Giveaway & Review: WEAK AT THE KNEES by Jo Kessel

I received Weak at the Knees through TLC Booktours in exchange for writing an honestly honest review.

Before I start discussing this book, I want to let you all know about an awesome giveaway associated with the book tour. One lucky winner will receive a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, a famous wine from the Rhône wine region of southeastern France. The giveaway is open internationally to those of legal drinking age. To enter, simply fill out this Google form: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/13PQ8EBxNMtgk_JrkP391qhLCxtDUDioY1CLCq18IXlI/viewform

Now on to the review!

Danni's been dating the handsome and smart Hugh for eleven years, ever since high school. He lets her live in his flat even though she contributes nothing to the household expenses, has no job, is not going to school, and doesn't even have a consuming hobby. Meanwhile, he works his patootie off as a barrister. Not surprisingly, Danni is bored; and also unhappy, because she's never had an orgasm. Tiniest violin in the world! Maybe she should buy Hugh a manual or a diagram or something. Then her best friend suddenly comes down with a mortal illness and makes Danni promise her at her deathbed that 1. she's going to break up with Hugh, and 2. she'll never sleep with a married man. Because... science? So of course when her bestie dies, Danni breaks up with Hugh and sets off for the French Alps where the reader knows two things will definitely happen: she'll have an orgasm and get involved with a married man. And she does.

The above paragraph is basically Weak at the Knees' prologue, which clocked in at nearly 1/4th of the entire book (22%). It wasn't labeled a prologue, but that's sure as heck what it was. You all know how I feel about prologues, and especially how I feel about prologues not labeled as such. Quiz: what's the first rule of telling a story? Begin at the beginning! Really the only reason I kept reading was a morbid curiosity to see when the book would actually get started. Eventually it did, but it was still really boring because having an orgasm/affair isn't much of a plot. Also, by that point I disliked whiny Danni so much I wouldn't have cared if she took a header off a mountain.

Basically Danni has no agency in this novel. Does she do anything, period, at the start of the book? No. I'm probably supposed to take her leaving Hugh as a sign of agency, but why does she leave him? Because he "can't make you happy," according her best friend. Right. That might be because no one person can make another person happy. All Danni's decisions afterward are predicated by the actions of a man, from learning how to ski to having sex. Yeah, she may want to have sex with the guys, but the decisions are always ultimately theirs. The males drive the other action in the book, too: when Danni leaves France, for example, and even when she goes back.

I will admit I liked the meet-cute between her and Olivier du Pape, mainly because as soon as someone mentions he's married (which happens immediately) you know they're going to have sex. But the scene where they get together is kind of hilarious, and not in an intentional way. I loved it when Olivier was like, "I don't want you to ruin your life by having an affair with me!" Ruin her life, really? Someone's been reading a liiiiiittle too much Gustave Flaubert. And what's going to happen to Olivier's life in the meantime, business as usual? Nice dichotomy there. In any case, it's really hard to believe that there are any stakes involved in this extramarital affair because Olivier's wife is never there. Literally, she is never in town. We never meet her; I don't think we even ever know her name. Yet I found myself more sympathetic for her than for any other person in this book because she's the only one who's completely innocent of wrong doing and she gets shat on because Olivier and Danni find one another really, really attractive.

Melody from Redeeming Qualities wrote recently that one thing she loves about romance and adventure novels is "watching the author’s resultant struggle to steer the characters to a happy ending without in any way impugning their honor." This is not something Jo Kessel apparently struggled with in Weak at the Knees; all the characters acted dishonorably and in an expedient way to get what they wanted. Instead of caring about who she was hurting and whether or not it was worth it, Danni was mainly concerned that Olivier was taking advantage of her. It's a lovely world of narcissism and actions without consequences that these characters live in.

Weak at the Knees also had quite a few editing problems, but honestly I find the lack of storytelling and female agency in this novel more egregious. What story is being told here? Why should the reader care? These are basic questions that need to be addressed in any story.

Anywho, if you're still interested in giving Weak at the Knees a try, TLC Booktours is offering a paperback (US/Canada only) or eBook (international) copy of the book to one lucky reader! Just enter your name and e-mail into this handy-dandy Google form and I'll draw one winner using random.org on Friday, September 27th, and contact the winner by e-mail. All information will be kept private and deleted after the giveaway.





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Movie Review: BEL AMI

Originally released: 2012
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Uma Thurman, Christina Ricci, Kristin Scott Thomas
Directed by: Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod
Based on: the novel of the same name by Guy de Maupassant

Georges is a poor young hoofer in 1890s Paris looking to make his mark. After meeting an old army buddy, he gets involved with a group of snooty bourgeoisie and a bunch of women who all want to hit that. His male colleagues hate him and treat him like a pussy, but that's probably because he keeps sleeping with their wives. Don't worry, though, Georges isn't just a hot piece of ass--he has a ridiculously complex Plan to get money so that he never has to watch cockroaches crawl around his apartment again.

I first heard about Bel Ami from Anachronist at Books as Portable Pieces of Thought, and it sounded so incredibly stupid that I seriously HAD to watch it. Bel Ami actually wasn't THAT bad, though (I probably would have enjoyed it more if it was), despite the fact that it contained some of the most awkward sex scenes I've ever seen. The cinematography and set design was gorgeous, and the movie did have some semblance of a plot (even if it didn't seem like it did for at least the first hour). I also thought the gender roles in the film were pretty interesting. As for Robert Pattinson... eh.



I mean, it's RPatt, so he basically spends forty percent of the movie staring and another forty smirking, which is pretty annoying. But he did make Georges sympathetic. I was honestly kind of rooting for the guy, but I'm not sure I was supposed to be. RPatt has said that Georges is amoral, but that doesn't really come across, especially in comparison to the other characters. He seems more of a bumbling idiot than a master manipulator, and he does care what at least one person thinks of him--his true love, Clothilde. I'm not sure if this is a failure on the screenwriter's part or RPatt's, but if you want someone who embodies a sexually objectified male, he does fit the bill.

Anyway, gender issues! Bel Ami reflects the fin-de-siècle paranoia about degeneration and indolence. Men should Do Things On Their Own and Not Rely On Women and all that good stuff. Except Georges basically gets everything from women, and has no intention of doing any work himself. His dad did that and it was for the birds! He'd rather make money on his back (to be fair, it's probably the only thing he's good at, and he is pretty). Georges basically takes on the role of a woman sleeping her way up to the top (à la Nana--post here--or Camille), but he's a dude. And it does get super-awkward sometimes.



Meanwhile, there are a lot of strong female characters in this film, most especially Uma Thurman, who plays Georges' wife, Madeleine. She smokes, drinks, plots to manipulate political elections through the press, and has no intention of letting anyone besides herself wear the pants in their marriage (side note: all the female leads in this movie should send thank-you notes to the cinematographer and director, because they looked freaking gorgeous). Wow, so many awkward sex scenes between those two. Even the other women Georges hooks up with come on to him first. Does Bel Ami pass the Bechdel Test? No way. But it does show women as independent, intelligent, and powerful. I would like to say this is interpreted as a positive, but instead it's more of a sign that civilization is going to the dogs--or at the very least, people like Georges.

When it came to the twisty, Les Liaisons Dangereuses-type plot, however, I thought the film really faltered. We get only the vaguest sense of what's happening at the newspaper Georges work at, or the political and financial manipulations Madeleine is a part of; and frankly Georges' plan to get the better of everyone makes no sense. Does it really take that much effort to infatuate a teenager? There are also a bunch of things left unexplained or that seemed kind of pointless.

Even with the interesting gender role reversals, I would say unless you have a particular love for Maupassant or the setting (which I do), you can skip Bel Ami. It's only minimally entertaining and kind of leaves a bad taste in one's mouth.

Review: LE ROAD TRIP by Vivian Swift

Are finances, family, or work preventing you from taking the vacation you so desperately need this summer? Then allow to me to humbly recommend this book.

In 2005, Vivian Swift went on a honeymoon to France. Le Road Trip is a memoir-slash-sketchbook of her trip through Paris, Normandy, Brittany, Bordeaux, and the Loire Valley. I don't usually go for travel memoirs, but this one included illustrations, so I figured it was worth a try. Plus: France.



Le Road Trip immediately won me over, before the book even started, with the fronticepiece where Swift warns, "This is not a book with a lot of really useful information in it... what--do I look like Rick Steves?" Swift states the purpose of Le Road Trip is to inspire people to plan their own adventure or remember previous trips, and in that the book succeeds completely. Swift's stories and illustrations brought back my own experiences traveling in France, and soothed the escapist fantasies I get some all a lot of the time. It really does feel like a travel sketch diary, and because of that, it seems as if you're in a conversation with the author.

For example, packing--I am a bit obsessed with the elusive perfectly packed suitcase, so I was immediately taken in by Swift's packing advice. We're both proponents of the single carry-on bag. I lived in Europe for a whole semester with clothes from a single carry-on. Not that I wasn't sick of my wardrobe before a week had passed, or that there were times when I was woefully unprepared for certain weather conditions, but the woes created by a small selection of clothes pale in comparison to the misery of jumping onto a midnight sleeper train with a suitcase the size of a small dresser and discovering you can't even get to your seat because the isles are packed full of stowaways and it will barely fit in front of the bathrooms at the end of the train, let alone in the hallway (yes, this happened to the woman I was traveling with. Never have I been so glad I packed a small bag. Also, never have I been so glad dogs like me, because the stowaways had a lot of them. Most hellish train ride ever!).



Aside from the lovely watercolor illustrations, Swift's writing is fun and irreverent, interspersed with a few quotes and facts, but mainly focusing on her interactions with other people. I loved her "travel tips"--e.g., have a bottle of champagne waiting for you when you get home--and how she approaches travel. A lot of travel memoirs like this might draw pseudo-meaningful connections between travel and life, but Swift deliberately avoids this. She makes it clear she's on vacation as a tourist, trying to have fun and relax, and her experiences are ones nearly any tourist can relate to.

Not that there weren't some things that bothered me, of course. Swift does her fair share of perpetuating stereotypes--Parisians are more rude than New Yorkers? Color me doubtful on that one. And I have never heard of anyone having so much trouble with train station ticketers as she does. But when she isn't making sweeping generalizations about French people--and the incidents of that are pretty isolated--Le Road Trip is delightful and interesting, and gorgeous to look at. Definitely something I'd recommend for Francophiles or armchair travelers.

Book Review: PERFUME, THE STORY OF A MURDERER by Patrick Süskind

Once upon a time in France, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born into a harsh world. Forget about love and human kindness; everyone is out for themselves. Especially when it comes to Grenouille, because he has no soul--or so people believe, because he has no scent. He doesn't smell bad, like the fish market he's born in, or good, like a baby generally does--he doesn't smell of anything. Ergo, he freaks people out. As far as they're concerned, he shouldn't even exist. One of his nursemaids calls him a vampire, and this is more accurate than she knows, because once Grenouille realizes he can distill people's scents, he decides to steal them for himself. And by people I of course mean beautiful young virgins.

This novel wasn't exactly pleasant to read, but it had its moments. The first fifty pages or so are pretty boring, because Grenouille's just an innocent little serial killer and doesn't do much except sniff around woodpiles and whatnot. There's also a slow part in the middle where J-BG lives in a cave for seven years and entertains himself remembering all the smells he's smelled (yeah, I skimmed through that part). Other than that, though, the book's actually pretty interesting, especially when Grenouille is learning how to become a perfumer; and the very end, which nearly punches you in the face with its existentialism, really makes the entire novel worth it.

One thing that did surprise me was the subtext. I definitely don't think every work of fiction emerging from Germany in the last 60 years has something to do with WWII, but in the instance of this specific book, there's a case to be made. Like Adolph Hitler, Grenouille is seemingly unkillable, surviving abandonment by his mother, anthrax, some sort of black plague episode, and hypothermia, just to name a few. He's completely asexual and not a sensuous person at all--as in, he doesn't care about food or beauty or being comfortable; he only cares about scent. When he does kill, it's not because it brings him a personal sense of satisfaction, it's just a means to an end--gaining these girls' scent so that people will love him and do whatever he wants them to. The killings aren't acts of passion or even hate, but are efficient, almost mechanized, so that Grenouille can get what he really wants: control and power. "If he wanted, he could be feted in Paris... or could walk out to Versailles and have the king kiss his feet; write the pope a perfumed letter and be revealed as the new Messiah...."

Despite seeing with their own eyes the evidence of Grenouille's murders, and hearing him confess, the people of Grasse cannot resist the pull of Grenouille's perfume:

The ten thousand men and women, children and patriarchs assembled there... grew weak as young maidens who have succumbed to the charms of a lover. They were overcome by a powerful sense of goodwill, of tenderness, of crazy, childish infatuation, yes, God help them, of love for this little homicidal man.... These people were now pure liquid, their spirits and minds were melted; nothing was left but an amorphous fluid, and all they could feel was their hearts floating and sloshing about within them, and they laid those hearts, each man, each woman, in the hands of the little man... for better or worse. They loved him.

After this massive incident of Group Think, which results in Grenouille's escape, the town of Grasse tries its best to mind-bleach the entire episode. They convict an innocent man of the killings, the records pertaining to "G" are lost, and no one speaks of it again. Life forcibly moves on. One might say Grasse has lost its innocence, but it would be more correct to say that the people of Grasse lost their perception of their own superiority. Grenouille's perfume of beauty, love, and purity reached these people and they all reacted with their basest lusts and greediness, behaving like "human beasts." Because of the enchantment of having their desires satiated, they let a murderer go free--not only that, but worshiped him. It's not just the knowledge that they're no better than Grenouille, but how thin their veil of morality and humanity is that keeps the citizenry from looking each other in the eye.

This is the type of novel where everyone is to blame. Even the people who "save the world" from Grenouille (at his own design) do so in the most disgusting and inhumane method imaginable, then congratulate themselves afterward. The narrator believes Grenouille is a terrible person, yes, but he's a terrible person because the world, totally selfish and greedy, made him that way. Aside from his superpowers--unkillable, super-smell, etc.--there really isn't much difference between Grenouille and any of the other characters in this novel. Does Grenouille really have no soul? Of course not; he desires the same thing we all do, love. It's when he realizes no one will ever love him--or vice versa--that he gives up.

If this story is a metaphor for what happened to Germany in WWII, then it's only in a more abstract sense. But I don't think it's as cynical as it first appears; if anything, Süskind is making an argument for tolerance and kindness and the Enlightenment values of freedom, equality, brotherhood, etc. (except for when it comes to women; if I thought the movie was misogynistic, the book is a lot worse). So while this may not be my favorite book ever, I do think it was worth reading. There are Ideas and there is History, and it reads amazingly fast in the non-boring parts (which is most of the novel). On more than a few levels this book is deeply disturbing, but then what else would one expect from a novel about a serial killer?



Musical notes: "I Think Ur a Contra," by Vampire Weekend

The Forbidden Rose by Joanna Bourne

Setting:  Post-Revolutionary France

Stereotypes:  Spies can do anything.

Major likes:  The setting; Adrian Hawker

Major dislikes:  Marguerite; the sex scenes

Musical Notes:  "The Dog Days Are Over," Florence + The Machine



Movie Notes:  Scenes from The Count of Monte Cristo, especially in the baths, helped create the look of the book for me in my head.


Review

The first review I ever posted on this blog was for Bourne's second novel, My Lord and Spymaster, which I loved.  The Forbidden Rose didn't live up to the excellence of ML&S, but it was still very good. 

Marguerite is a former aristocrat in Robespierre-run France, whose chateau has just been looted and burned to the ground.  At first she seems typically delicate and survival-challenged, unable to even kill a rabbit for her dinner.  Then William Doyle arrives with his sidekick, Adrian Hawker, and takes charge.  William claims to be a French bookseller, and he convinces Marguerite it would be a good idea for him to escort her to Paris.  They both know the other is misrepresenting themselves, but that doesn't stop them from being attracted to each other.

I absolutely loved the setting of this book.  I have a weakness for Revolutionary France and Bourne's research is spot-on.  She really has a gift of making her readers feel as if they're witnessing a historical time period first-hand.  All the paranoia, uncertainty, and blood thirsty excitement of the era is palpable.  If you've ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel, this book has the same sense of tense adventure.

Unfortunately, it doesn't have the same sense of mystery and surprise, and I think that's one of the reasons why I just enjoyed it and didn't love it the same way I did ML&S.  It doesn't take more than a few dozen pages for us to know exactly what all the characters are up to.  Also--and I hate to say this--but the plot is starting to get formulaic.  In My Lord & Spymaster, we had a woman whose father was suspected of crimes while her love interest was determined to see him pay for said crimes; in The Forbidden Rose, we have a woman whose father is suspected of creating a list of men to be assassinated, and her love interest who is determined to kill him for doing it.  Bourne is a good enough writer that I'm sure she could have come up with something at least a little different than that to keep the plot going; one gets the sense that even she's bored with it, as the plot is mainly just glossed over in favor of more interesting adventures, such as exploring Paris' catacombs and chasing down street thugs.

Another stumbling block for me in enjoying this book was Marguerite.  Just as in ML&S, the story in Forbidden Rose hinges on the main character; but unlike ML&S, where I ADORED the main character, Marguerite drove me absolutely batty.  I honestly wanted to strangle her.  Any woman of good sense would have realized she was poisoned.  And she can send her friends into mortal danger but can't let her murderous cousin to be killed?  This does not make sense, just as her constant refusal to believe she and "Guillaume" can be together doesn't make sense.  I started to get the feeling Marguerite would walk into walls if someone wasn't keeping an eye on her.

Anyway, this is really a good book, but I think for me Bourne works best with characters from the London underworld--like Adrian Hawker, a pubescent pickpocket whom Doyle won in a card game.  He's a great character, with an inexplicable attachment to Doyle, and I can't wait until he gets his own book!

Overall I would recommend The Forbidden Rose, even though I still like My Lord & Spymaster and The Spymaster's Lady better.  Joanna Bourne is always worth your time, though.

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Wicked Becomes You by Meredith Duran

In which Tasha has a case of the blahs.



Dear Historical Romances,

You and I, we used to be so close.  You gave me escapism, long sighs, and swoon-worthy heroes.  Long nights staying up way past my bedtime to find out what would happen next.  I gave you... well, money.  But I was glad to give it!  So long as I got a wonderful romance in return that transported me to another place and time.

But now, I'm just not feeling it.  I haven't for a while.  It's not you--well, sometimes it is you.  Okay, MOST of the time it's you.  But in this case it's not.  There is absolutely wrong with this particular book.  On some level, I recognize this, and thus I kept reading until the bitter sweet end.  Sweet because it was a HEA (naturally), bitter because all I felt was bored.  When the hero and heroine first kiss--meh.  When they start throwing glasses and pitchers of beer at one another in public--yawn.  When they purge deep emotional issues--are you freaking kidding me?  Is this supposed to be the tortured emotional part?  Because BLAHHHH.

Gwen is the perfect debutante, but the men she agrees to marry keep ditching her at the altar.  Why???  After the second one, she has a breakdown and decides she's done with being good--she wants to be wicked!  Fortunately, the person she comes across just as she arrives at this deep personal realization is Alex Ramsay, her brother's bestie and a notorious kick-boxing rogue.  Or is it roguish kick-boxer?  Whatever.  They travel to Paris, Monte Carlo, Alex shows her how to be wicked, blah blah blah.

Did you hear that?  "Blah blah blah."  That's what I kept thinking while I was reading this book.  But it's really not the same old thing--it's set in exciting locales, is cunningly researched and written, and... well, those are the only positives I can think of at the moment.  I did really enjoy the parts of the novel that showed me settings I'd never seen in a romance before, like the freaking Moulin Rouge (!); I should have been geeking out something fierce, but instead all I could keep thinking while I read it was, "This book would be so much better if it wasn't a romance!  Then I wouldn't have to suffer through this rigmarole of a relationship."

I didn't feel any chemistry between the hero and heroine at all.  Alex's contempt of Gwen's innocence was more believable (and off-putting) than his sudden breakdown into admitting, "Oh, I've been in love with you all along!"  Suuure.

Meredith Duran's greatest strength has always been her fascinating heroes, but Alex isn't terribly interesting.  He doesn't do very much and I never got a sense of his history or emotions, or even what he looked like for that matter.  Gwen, meanwhile, was hard to take seriously, and every time she said she never wanted to get married, it made me roll my eyes.  Perhaps I would have found her protestations easier to believe if this wasn't a romance novel.  Or if she hadn't been raised to believe her entire roll in life was to marry an aristocrat.

As the book went on, the only thing I really cared about discovering was why Gwen's fiances kept dumping her.  Sadly, the explanation was stupid and unsurprising.

Of course, perhaps someone who isn't a jaded old crone in the course of a genre breakup would feel differently.

I'm sorry, historical romances, but I don't think we should see each other any more.  At least not for a while.  I thought we were true loves and nothing would ever be able to keep us apart, especially with a book like this one.  But Wicked Becomes You has served to show me that even the best relationships have to come to an end eventually, and I'm not sure I have the fortitude to read another book by a great author and feel nothing.

Sayonara,

Tasha B.

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