3.5 stars
First off, I just want to say that why the title brings to mind that dreadful “romantic comedy” with Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey, the plot of the book bears no resemblance, save that there are ten days involved. Sometimes I think publishers actually want people to be put off by their titles.
Unusually tall and with her reputation in tatters, American heiress Edie Jewell had not had any luck finding a suitable husband, despite the aid of London’s premier matchmaker. With only a short time left of her first season before she has to return to New York and face the society that condemned her after a foolish misstep, she met the impoverished but charming Duke of Margrave. He needed a fortune and someone to help him to restore his many estates and take care of his many grasping relatives, not to mention to make it possible for him to return to his adventures in Africa. Edie desperately needed to make a good match, so she never had to go back to America. She boldly proposed to Stuart, promising him her enormous dowry, as long as he promised to travel to Africa as soon as she learned to manage the estates, and never return.
Stuart stayed away for five years, but when his valet is killed by a lion and he also barely survives, he decides that it’s time for a change. While Edie has excelled at taking care of his family, tenants, land and estates, barely thinking of her absent husband, Stuart has frequently through of the remarkable woman he left behind. He returns to England, wanting to have a true marriage with his wife, building a proper legacy with her to leave their children. Edie is horrified, and insists he agree to a legal separation. If he doesn’t agree, she’ll leave him. Stuart suggests he be allowed to change her mind. In the ten days before her ship leaves for New York, he get the chance to charm her. If she willingly kisses him before the ten days are up, she gives up on the separation idea. Edie’s younger sister, Joanna, is determined to do her best to help him, not just because she seems to think her brother-in-law will keep her from being sent away to finishing school.
Full review.
Sometimes I think publishers actually want people to be put off by their titles.
You didn’t ask for you, but I’m going to give you an “AMEN!”
It’s such a dumb title, which is a shame, because the book really isn’t a bad one. If I hadn’t read a whole bunch of Guhrke before (she is firmly on my B-list, but tends to be enjoyable nontheless), I doubt I would ever have bothered with this book.
At some point don’t romance novels need to distinguish themselves in some way? I find the titles and cover art to be largely interchangeable. While I don’t maintain a shameful tally I should because I can’t keep track of which I’ve read, loved, hated, etc. Largely because the cover blurbs, titles, and art are entirely indistinguishable. What is it about romance novels that require them to adhere so strictly to the same design code? Gabaldon seems to be doing OK by breaking this mold.
I think in some cases, the industry profits from the fact that so many of the covers and titles and fonts used are so interchangeable. The readers know what to look for, and it’s obvious that they’re getting a historical/contemporary/paranormal romance. Covers tend to follow trends. A few years ago, the preferred cover art seemed to be mantitty, followed by a period where there was a couple canoodling on the cover. Now the majority of books seem to focus on heroines in beautiful dresses, often seen from the back. Historical costumes for historicals, people frolicking in casual situations on contemporary covers. Man titty with tribal tattoos or girls in leather trousers, tramp stamps and some sort of weapon (normally a sword or a crossbow) on the paranormal ones. It’s a brand recognition sort of a thing. I suspect the majority of customers actually prefer the slight samey-ness of the covers rather than get annoyed by it, otherwise there would be more variety. Romance is the number one bestselling fiction genre, after all.
One of the reasons I think Gabaldon is an exception is because she really isn’t marketed chiefly at romance readers. Her books aren’t necessarily as easily classified in one genre. I’ve found them in the fantasy/sci-fi section of bookstores, under romance and in general fiction.
Is the appropriate form of mantitty “mantitty”, “man titty”, or “man-titty”? ;)
As an author, do you think it helps or hurts you to have your books largely indistinguishable from the rest of the books in the genre? I wonder if readers prefer this or simply accept it as a matter of course. I can imagine why publishers would want this consistency but I can’t come up with any reasons why individual authors would like it, other than it helps readers quickly identify genre.
Personally I’m sick of accidentally re-purchasing books I’ve already read because they’re so indistinct. Now excuse me while I go find excuses to drop man titty into conversation…
I think the books are intentionally interchangeable for the lesser known authors. Given the quality of much of the writing, that is kind of fair.