Perla had an interesting comment on the Prologue to The Mask of Night, which I posted a couple of weeks ago. The Prologue shows Mélanie’s first spy mission, long before she and Charles meet. Perla said she enjoyed seeing this glimpse of a young Mélanie. She went on to say “I have not had much sympathy for Melanie, I hadn’t forgiven her even if Charles had. But this excerpt intrigues me. I very much like to see proof of Melanie’s independence and skill in action. I am only now starting to be able to separate Mel’s life from her betrayal of Charles. It’s very important to me to see this other life she led.”
I love it when I get a glimpse of my characters through someone else’s eyes. I was surprised and pleased that Perla stayed with series despire having trouble feeling sympathy for Mélanie.I always knew Mélanie, particularly in Secrets of a Lady, would be a difficult character for some readers to sympathize with(as I mentioned in an earlier blog post, one friend who read an early version of the book sad flatly that she didn’t like Mélanie and couldn’t imagine how Charles could possibly forgive her; of course another friend kept saying “why is it taking Charles so long to get over this, she was just doing her job” :-)).
Perla’s comment got me thinking about how sympathizing (or not) with a character affects our reading of a book. Francis Crawford of Lymond in Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles is a character who draws strong reactions from readers (and a character much on my mind, as I spent this afternoon with a group of fellow Dunnett-readers at an exhibit on Marie Antoinette and the Petit Trianon at San Francisco’s Legion of Honour). When I first read The Game of Kings, the first book in the Lymond Chronicles, I liked and sympathized with Lymond immediately. I didn’t know precisely why he was doing the things he was doing (which was a big part of what made him so intriguing), but I never doubted that he had good, noble reasons for his actions. But a number of readers find Lymond less than sympathetic in the early pages of the book (my mom kept saying “he burned his mother’s castle!” :-)). Some readers give up then and there (a number of friends I’ve tried to introduce the books to are in this category). Some stick with the books and start find Lymond more sympathetic somewhere in the second half of The Game of Kings (my mom was in this category). A few readers, I know from detailed online discussions of the books, never do particularly like Lymond, but stay with the books for rich adventures and historical background and the other characters.
Harriet Vane is another character I know some readers have trouble with, finding her two prickly to be sympathetic. On the other hand, she’s one of my favorite literary heroines. Another if Jane Austen’s Emma Wodehouse, though I have friends who think she’s far too self-absorbed to be sympathetic. On the other hand, I’ve never been able to warm up to Fanny in Mansfield Park. There’s every reason to feel sympathy for Fanny–she’s a poor relation, living a Cinderella existence in her uncle’s house, and yet she stays sweet and loyal and affectionate, even to those who haven’t treated her well. She’s arguably a nicer person than Mélanie or Lymond or Emma or possibly Harriet. But her moralizing (and lack of a sense of humor) grates on my nerves. (I have much the same problem with Jane Eyre, I confess, though she’s tougher and more spirited than Fanny, which to me makes her not only more interesting but more sympathetic).
Not sympathizing much with Fanny (or Edmund) doesn’t stop me from reading Mansfied Park and appreciating many brilliant things about it as a novel, though it the Jane Austen novel I return to least often. I’m happy Fanny and Edmund find their happy ending, but in a detached sort of way. I don’t find myself rooting for them the way I do more flawed characters who really engage my emotions and sympathies (perhaps all the more so because they are flawed)–Lymond and Philippa, Harriet and Peter, Emma and Mr. Knightley.
Have you found a major character difficult to sympathize with yet continued to read a book or series? If so, what keeps you reading? The storyline, the other characters, the desire to learn more about the unsympathetic character? Have you ever been surprised to find you viewed a character very different from fellow readers? What makes you give up on a character? What makes you stay with him or her despite your sympathies not being engaged?
By the way, as I mentioned in my reply to Perla, though The Mask of Night is set in January 1820 (just after Secrets of a Lady) there are several flashbacks in which you see a younger Mélanie and what her life and work were like before Charles.
Speaking of Mélanie and the ambiguity of her behavior, this week’s addition to the Fraser Correspondence is a letter from her to Raoul, after Charles has gone off on the secret mission he wrote about in last week’s letter.
And be sure to visit my new microsite on the HarperCollins website, which just launched on Friday. HarperCollins is doing a fabulous job with these microsites. Mine has some really fun features, including rotating book recommendations, photo albums (with a number of pictures that aren’t on this site yet), and a Timeline that integrates key events in Charles Mélanie’s lives with historical events. I’ll be updating the microsite frequently, so be sure to check it as well as this site.
Wednesday update: just a note to add that I’m blogging today on History Hoydens about Love & Dangerous Liaisons in which I talk about some of the real life people and events who inspired the intrigues in Beneath a Silent Moon.
Tracy Grant - Novelist 
January 20, 2008 at 8:03 pm
I don’t know if this quite applies; but I don’t like Mr. Bennett (of Pride and Prejudice) very much. Everyone sighs over his sad situation, married to an ‘inferior’ woman and having silly daughters. But look at his actions in the book. He neglects his daughters’ futures. He laughs at his wife (who has good reason to be nervous, with FIVE daughters to marry off, or face a future filled with poverty) He ignores Lizzie’s warning to him, (letting Lydia get into a situation where she elopes with Wickham) because he wants a peaceful life. Huh. Not much of a dad.
January 21, 2008 at 8:48 am
That’s a great example, JMM! I’ve always liked Mr. Bennett, but you make very good point about his behavior being less than exemplary in many ways, which goes to the point I was trying to make that why a character does or doesn’t engage a reader’s sympathies is often something intangible. One thing I really liked in the 2005 film of “Pride and Prejudice” is that, while I still liked Mr. Bennett, I saw Mrs. Bennett’s perspective more than I had ever done before. I loved her line to Elizabeth about “wait until you have five daughters and see what you think is important.”
January 21, 2008 at 7:57 pm
Yes, I liked the 2005 version. I may be one of the few; most people seem to have wanted a clone of the mini-series with Colin.
(Not that I didn’t enjoy it as well, but what’s the point of remaking a film if it’s just a copy?)
I’ve found that more and more, I have sympathy with characters in movies, books, TV, etc, that I’m apparently supposed to dislike. (The Evil Other Woman, whose crime is that she’s not a virgin. The… I can’t think of another example right now.)
I don’t mean I love villains! I’m constantly surprised by the Phangirls who think Erik (stalker and murderer) is the best man ever! Let’s see… deformed stalker vs. dashing Vicomte. Wow, that’s hard. (I love Raoul!)
And (since the 1982 movie and the musical) there are Chauvelin fangirls. Ok, the Baroness did give him a soft side by showing his love for his child (more power to her) but he’s not a hero. Even in the play, (where he’s remarkably sexy) he’s not a hero.
January 21, 2008 at 8:47 pm
I like the 2005 “Pride and Prejudice” a lot too, and I also love the 1995 miniseries. You’re right, they’re different, and I get different things from each and see different aspects of the book (I thought a the 2005 movie did a great job of bringing out the economic desperation of the Bennetts’ situation if the girls didn’t marry fairly well).
I too often find myself sympathizing with characters who aren’t meant to be sympathetic. In “Mansfield Park,” I’m much more inclined to see things from Mary Crawford’s point of view than from Fanny’s. And just yesterday a friend and I were telling another friend how in “Becoming Jane,” our sympathies were all with Jane’s rejected suitor, rather than with Jane and Tom. I often find well-written villains sympathetic at moments–that doesn’t mean I want them to succeed in their goals, end up with the hero/heroine, etc… but they’re well written (and acted) I can often see things from their perspective in certain scenes. Chauvelin does rouse my sympathies at times (in various adaptations and even in the books), but there’s never a moment when I want Marguerite to end up with him. I wouldn’t have minded Athos getting back together with Milady de Winter instead of killing her, though.
January 23, 2008 at 6:51 am
I just want to say that I may not have had much sympathy for Melanie, but I was impressed by her strength, intelligence and charm. She can stand up to anyone. I admired that in her because I had been so frustrated with heroines in conventional romances for years. They seemed to be all talk and no spine. The hero always had to ride to the rescue.
There was never a question for me of staying with this series. You have painted such a fantastic picture of a marriage between these two fascinating characters. As angry as I was at Melanie, I couldn’t read fast enough to get to the next scene. I had to see how Charles would react, what he would do. And I had to see if Melanie was still playing him, or if she wanted to stay and fight for their marriage because she truely loved him.
January 23, 2008 at 8:20 am
I love hearing your take on the Charles & Mélanie books and Mélanie’s character, Perla–it’s fascinating! I’m actually glad you weren’t sure if Mélanie was playing Charles or genuinely loved him, because I wanted the reading to be questioning that in “Secrets of a Lady,” as Charles is questioning it. If her feelings were too obvious too soon, the ending would be too much of a foregone conclusion, I think. I’m glad Charles engaged your sympathies too. He’s a challenging character to write, because he holds his feelings very close and won’t always admit them even to himself,
You’ve read “Beneath a Silent Moon,” right? How did Mélanie strike you in that?
January 23, 2008 at 5:20 pm
I’ve just finished reading an engrossing novel by Philippa Gregory, ‘Fallen Skies’, set just after the First World War, and one of the characters was so very unappealing that the prospect of his comeuppance kept me turning the pages – and yet I got the feeling that the author wished the reader to pity him, if not sympathise with him. Both the anti-hero and the heroine had their flaws, but he was detestable, and I wasn’t able to put his behaviour down to the effects of the war – he was a weak little man, and the conclusion was a disappointment, too. Amazing writing, though, to draw me into the lives of these fictional characters!
And I, too, have never been able to identify with Jane Eyre and her ilk – Fanny in ‘Mansfield Park’, Esther in ‘Bleak House’, etc. I always think there might be a very good reason why these sanctimonious creatures are hard done by ..! The best balance is possibly Elinor in ‘Sense and Sensibility’, although that could just be in comparison with her melodramatic sister.
January 23, 2008 at 5:52 pm
Sounds interesting, Sarah–I love Philippa Gregory’s books, but I haven’t read “Fallen Skies.” Was the conclusion a disappointment because he didn’t seem to get enough of a comeuppance?
I do prefer Elinor Dashwood to the other heroines you mention–it may, as you say, be the contrast with Marianne, but somehow she doesn’t seem as sanctimonious. My favorite Austen heroines are Elizabeth and Emma, though.
January 24, 2008 at 6:57 am
I originally read Beneath a Silent Moon as an ARC! I did like Melanie in Beneath a Silent Moon, but since it came after Daughter of the Game/Secrets of a Lady, I was trying to read too much into her actions and words. I think I will have a different impression of her in Beneath a Silent Moon once I’ve read Mask of Night. There are so many layers that have yet to be uncovered!
What really made an impression was the divide between Charles and Melanie. At the beginning there was so much unsaid between them. It must have been a very scary time for Melanie, to find herself looking at forever with the reality of her situation as Mrs. Charles Fraser.
By the end of the book, you can see how much closer they had become. This is why I’ve been dying to see how the dynamic of their relationship has changed in Mask of Night. Each book has shown the growth process of their bond.
January 24, 2008 at 7:35 am
I’m glad you’re enjoying uncovering the layers in Mélanie and Charles’s relationship, Perla! Those layers are what make them so fun to write about. So you read “Beneath a Silent Moon” after “Daughter of the Game/Secrets of a Lady”? I’m just now going through galleys for the May trade re-release of “Beneath” and I’ve realized how many moments there are in Mélanie’s pov that read differently if you’ve already read “Daughter/Secrets.” I don’t think that means you’d be reading too much into her actions and words, just that you’d have more context for what she’s thinking and feeling. There’s definitely a deep divide between Mel and Charles at the start of “Daughter/Secrets.” Bridging that divide (or at least starting to ) was the challenge of that book. Hopefully “The Mask of Night” will shed more light on their relationship. And I think there’s still plenty to explore in future books :-).
January 24, 2008 at 8:10 pm
‘Fallen Skies’ – the ending was disappointing in that I wasn’t satisfied with the husband’s punishment; I got the impression that the author, after 600 pages of building characters and tension, either ran out of steam or painted herself into a corner, and just tacked on a convenient conclusion. I wanted him humiliated, cowed, and abandoned by even his faithful (or intimidated) wartime companion, for all the pathetic, self-centred garbage I’d been forced to wade through – ‘shellshock’ doesn’t cover it, he was a thoroughly nasty character! However, I was completely drawn into the story and the fictional lives – as you can tell – and was left wondering what became of the wife, her family, and her platonic love interest. Philippa Gregory really is a talented writer, though – I shall add her Tudor series to my TBR list!
I also enjoyed your blog on the History Hoydens site – I’ve always preferred to read about the Georgian era (late eighteenth century, anyway) over Austen’s Regency, because it seemed a livelier, more adventurous time, and although there was still that veneer of respectability, and the sexual double standard, aristocratic women had more fun! Even the fashions were sexier, emphasising the waist as well as the bosom, and rustling in yards of bright silks instead of prim white muslin! How sumptuos and exotic.
January 25, 2008 at 7:28 am
Thanks for the description of “Fallen Skies.” I think it’s fascinating how, even when a character doesn’t engage your sympathies, you can still be caught up in the story and eager to know what happens next. Philippa Gregory is a very talented writer–I couldn’t put down “The Other Boleyn Girl”–Mary Boleyn definitely engaged my sympathies. Anne did at times as well. At other times, she didn’t–but either way, I wanted to read more about her, and more about the complex relationships between the sisters and their brother.
So glad you enjoyed the History Hoydens blog! I love the Regency, but the 18th century also fascinates me. I love comparing and contrasting the two, through characters who have been born in one era and come or age or matured in another, through the contrast between 18th century parents and their children growing up in the Regency, etc… I do have to say, from reading Emily Copwer’s letters, Regency ladies still did have a lot of fun :-).
January 25, 2008 at 1:41 pm
I’ll echo Perla in saying that I didn’t precisely “like” Melanie on my first reading of the books. I found her fascinating and wanted to know more about her. I still do, but in the meantime I’ve read both books over again and have come out with a bit more of an affinity to her. I’m still not sure I would trust her as a friend, but I probably wouldn’t have a choice. I’d find her too interesting not to spend time with her, if she would deign to allow me.
Cate
PS: JMM, if you see this — your comments are similar to what I’ve heard from the woman who introduce me to Tracy’s book and with whom I’ve lost touch. Did you once hang out at CWF?
January 25, 2008 at 4:58 pm
Thanks for commenting, Cate! I love getting people’s different takes on my characters. I’d never really thought about whether I’d trust Mélanie as a friend of not. I think I’d would–she’d actually extremely loyal. The problem would be if her loyalty to her friend conflicted with her loyalty to something else. And I’m sure she’d want to spend time with you, Cate–for one thing you’re very smart and interesting :-), but also she’s pretty open and friendly and likes people. One thing that’s fun in “The Mask of Night” is that you get to see her (and Charles) a lot more with friends–David and Simon (who were in “Beneath a Silent Moon”) and Isobel and Oliver Lydgate. It was fun exploring Mélanie ‘s and Charles’s interactions with their friends (in fact there’s a scene where she talks to Raoul about what it’s like to have friends, unconnected to “work” and her loyalty to them.
January 26, 2008 at 4:03 am
I’m Janet, Catherine. It’s been a long time.
I loved The Other Boleyn Girl, even if it is mostly fiction. (Imagine that – a novel that’s fiction!) 🙂 I enjoy books in which heroines have to manuver and manipulate their way through a world in which men have all the power – I’m tired of the “feisty, foot-stomping misses who act like they’re in the 21st century”.
“Marry for money? Never!” Uh… right.
“Servants have rights, too!” O-K.
“I’ll get a job, even though I am a gentleman’s daughter!” *Snort*
I think that’s one reason readers have a problem with Melanie – too many romantic heroines (and DOTG and BSM are often classified with historical romance) are such PC nitwits, it’s a shock to read about a woman who is capable at a job which requires deceit and manipulation.
I’ve read several books which described the heroine as a spy; but the heroine can’t tell a lie to save her own life! “Oh, I hate lying!” Then why are you spying, nitwit!?
*Shakes head, steps off soapbox*
Sorry. Anyone who knows me knows my opinions on this. I’ve bored people to death with this, I’m sure. 🙂
January 26, 2008 at 5:48 am
I’ve always liked heroines who defy convention, JMM, whether they maneuver and manipulate (Scarlet O’Hara comes to mind, but Georgette Heyer’s Venetia Lanyon is a very sympathetic heroine who is nevertheless very good at manipulating the situation to bring about her happy ending) or outwardly break conventions (such as Sophy Stanton-Lacey, Barbara Childe, and Harriet Vane among others).
I think you’re right about Mélanie–as I’ve mentioned, I’ve always known she’d be a difficult heroine for some readers, which is part of why I find her so much fun and so challenging to write about (even starting on book four in the series, I’m not always sure what she’ll do in any given situation). Mélanie isn’t sure herself, which I think scares her sometimes. On the other hand, there’s my friend who couldn’t figure out why Charles didn’t forgive Mélanie sooner because she just doing her job :-). I love talking about my characters and getting these different takes!
January 26, 2008 at 4:15 pm
The problem would be if her loyalty to her friend conflicted with her loyalty to something else.
I think this is exactly what would make me nervous about getting close to a woman like Melanie. Of course, it’s also the reason I would want to be close to her. She’s loyal, but she, like everyone, has a hierarchy of loyalties and she’s not likely to be changed.
JMM, can you send me a note? (blakeneytrilogy AT hotmail DOT com) I’d love to catch up and I lost your email a while back.
January 26, 2008 at 4:38 pm
I’m reading a fantastic book at the moment, full of rich, diverse characters, who are all human and evoke the reader’s sympathy as well as their antipathy – ‘The Crimson Petal and the White’ by Michel Faber. Nothing really happens, as such – I’ve found either nuance or plot must be forfeited to a degree, for either to work effectively – but I have never met such multi-faceted, believable figures in a story before; I keep wanting to check the London census for 1881, to see if I can find William Rackham and his family! 😉 Even the introduction is a superbly crafted ‘hook’, which draws the reader in and keeps them interested throughout the 800+ pages.
January 26, 2008 at 5:57 pm
Cate, that’s a really good point about Mélanie–I’m just trying to figure out if her hierarchy of loyalties make her any more likely to betray a friend than anyone else would be. Not sure what I think the answer is–it’s fun to mull over. Her betrayal of Charles is a bit different, because she went into the relationship intending to betray him. I think I may blog about literary friendships this week…
Sarah, “The Crimson Petal and the White” is an amazing book. So rich and vivid. The characters really came to life (you’re right, I can imagine finding them on a census or walking down a London street and finding the Rackham house still there).
January 26, 2008 at 6:57 pm
Anyway, to get back to the original question… I can’t get into “Mary-Sue” heroines – women who are so perfect, so righteous, so wonderful – because I don’t feel connected to them. I know I screw up.
Dorthe said – and I agree – some women like to read the “perfect heroine with the jerk hero” books because it gives them a sense of superiority to the male of the species.
It’s safe. The hero will always mess up and be forgiven by the Noble Long Suffering Heroine. It’s a form of power.
I don’t like “Gary-Stu” heroes, either. 🙂
January 27, 2008 at 7:58 am
I know just what you mean, JMM–I’ve always had a hard time identifying with characters who are too “perfect” (in fact, going back to Fanny and Jane Eyre, then tend to fail to engage my sympathies, though intellectually I can agree they are very deserving of sympathy).
January 27, 2008 at 7:16 pm
It’s interesting the question who engages one’s sympathies. I’d say that as far as heroines are concerned I’ve always liked women who aren’t identified with the male agenda. I mean women like Marguerite, Harriet Vane and Tracy’s Melanie who are autonomous and don’t define themselves through men’s eyes. They try as best they can to be agents rather than victims unlike the manipulative, righteous females who somehow end up “castrating” their men – the Cartland heroines for example, or their contrasts women who become caricatures like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada. In a way such a character reveals how destructive that kind of behaviour is, but in a woman it’s despised and must be stopped, in a man it’s respected. The autonomous agenda makes a heroine “flawed” of course, because when you act you make mistakes, because you can’t predict everything and pursuing your own agenda does collide with other people’s. Again not a problem when a man’s doing it – like Percy when he chooses his mission over domesticity.
I liked that Tracy said that he had wanted Milady to end up with Athos rather than being killed by him. When I first started reading The Scarlet Pimpernel, I thought that Marguerite was a Milady kind of character (I was happily surprised when she turned out to be different. I was thirteen at the time, and it meant a lot to me to read about such a powerful character who still ended up with the hero). What Marguerite does have, but which Milady didn’t is a loving heart. I think that’s what makes me like a character. That’s why I got on better terms with Chauvelin, when Fleurette appeared and why I like the Mrs Bennett in the 2005 version, but not in the book and not in the tv-series, where she didn’t project much beyond hysteria. By a loving heart I don’t mean that kind of narcissistic obsession of a (musical) Chauvelin or a Phantom, but the ability to value someone else and worry about that person’s welfare.
I think Percy is the character that I really love the most, and that is because of the tension between his role as a fop, his role as a hero and his own awareness that the real Percy is neither, but like he says in I Will Repay just as flawed as the woman he had to get down from a pedestal.
January 27, 2008 at 7:46 pm
Thanks so much for the wonderful comments, Dorthe! That’s such a good point about heroines who are autonomous and act on their own, according to their own goals/agenda/ideals. Sophy in Heyer’s “The Grand Sophy” definitely acts autonomously. My mom once said Barbara Childe in “An Infamous Army” was “an unhappy Sophy,” which I’ve always thought fits. I think Bab can’t quite work out how to be autonomous and her own person, so she ends up striking out in destructive ways.
I think what you describe as a “loving heart” is what my dad, a social psychologist, called empathy, which he thought was so important in the development of a healthy personality and way of relating to the world (I used to run a lot of character situations past my dad). You’re right of course, that Milady didn’t have a loving heart/empathy, but I kept wishing she did (and thinking that if I’d written the story I’d have written her that way :-). I too was thrilled, as a young girl, that a character like Marguerite got a happy ending–it seemed as though those sort of powerful, interesting women usually ended up as villainesses. I actually think Mélanie has a fair amount of empathy, which is why I think she’d be a fairly good friend despite her ruthlessness, a topic I’m trying to blog about now.
January 27, 2008 at 8:52 pm
Marguerite’s ‘autonomy’ doesn’t last for long – after TSP, she lives solely for Percy’s love, just as her loyalty and maternal love for Armand guided her actions in her earlier years.
I must admit, I’ve always had trouble balancing her fantastic backstory with the selfless and trusting nurturer that she is at heart – it’s as if her career on stage, and her role as revolutionary mascot from her salon, were roles that she was trying on, to see what fit, or appropropriate ‘masks’ for her to hide behind, but that she was only waiting for another male ‘crutch’ to trust and truly devote herself to. She is not coldly independent, like Becky Sharp in ‘Vanity Fair’, but rather self-contained; with Armand, and after she meets Percy, she is able to reveal her true nature and abandon the defensive tactics of her life alone. (When of course, she goes from one extreme to the other, and her enemies are able to take full advantage of her trusting and generous nature!)
January 27, 2008 at 8:56 pm
I’m sort of torn on Jane Eyre – it was so fantastic to see a heroine who was allowed to be p*ssed off at the world! She was allowed to be angry at the fact that she was stuck in an abusive family, that people didn’t appreciate her because she was plain and poor. She loved Helen, her classmate, but found her too passive and accepting.
On the other hand, I disliked her attitude of superiority. Not to mention her barely concealed contempt for poor Adele, who commited the crime of being pretty, French (horrors!) and illegitimate.
“The autonomous agenda makes a heroine “flawed” of course, because when you act you make mistakes, because you can’t predict everything and pursuing your own agenda does collide with other people’s.”
As usual, you said it better than I ever could, Dorthe. That’s why heroines are often so passive (or PC foot stomping fiesty); the author/screenwriter/director is often too afraid to offend anyone.
And if a heroine’s goals put her in conflict with the hero, guess who gives up her goals? If the hero’s goals put him in conflict with the heroine… guess who stays on course?
January 27, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Sarah, as I think I’ve mentioned before, I prefer Marguerite in TSP (and even more so, perhaps, the Marguerite we get a glimpse of in the backstory) to the character she becomes in the later books. Much as I enjoy the later books, I so wish Marguerite was given more to do, more autonomy as Dorthe puts it so well. Even some goals that don’t revolve round Percy.
JMM, I like Jane Eyre’s anger, too, and her ability to stand up to Rochester and others (in this, I find her much more interesting than sweet, demure Fanny in “Mansfiled Park”). It’s her superiority, as you say (great way of putting it) that makes me lack sympathy for her. In particular, the attitude toward Adèle by everyone in the novel (including, it seems, the author) really rankles whenever I return to the book. Many of the film adaptations soften this and have Adèle integrated into the family, which I much prefer.
One of the things I love about the Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane romance is that so much of is about finding a balance between two autonomous individuals. There’s that lovely exchange about harmony and counterpoint when they go to the concert at the end of “Gaudy Night.”
May 9, 2008 at 9:58 am
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