arr reviewed Dancing at Midnight by Julia Quinn (Blydon - 2)
Review of 'Dancing at Midnight' on 'Goodreads'
1 star
NEGATIVE STARS
Okay, here's the thing, in the course of reading romance novels I fully expect each hero to suffer from his requisite deep, dark internal struggle. These are habitually far too manpain-y in nature to elicit any actual interest from me, but I accept as a matter of course the obligatory Daddy Issues, the always popular First Wife Problems (be she evil, fridged, or mad), the Unworthy Rake Conundrum, and even approach with some relief and a hint of engagement the Noble Soldierly PTSD and, the yet more rare, Self-Actualization Quest.
But in Dancing at Midnight Julia Quinn decided to go for an internal struggle that I can't regard with apathy, only rage.
John Blackwood's specific manpain is centered entirely around the fact that when he was in the army, he got drunk one night and as such failed to ensure that one of his fellow soldiers didn't rape …
NEGATIVE STARS
Okay, here's the thing, in the course of reading romance novels I fully expect each hero to suffer from his requisite deep, dark internal struggle. These are habitually far too manpain-y in nature to elicit any actual interest from me, but I accept as a matter of course the obligatory Daddy Issues, the always popular First Wife Problems (be she evil, fridged, or mad), the Unworthy Rake Conundrum, and even approach with some relief and a hint of engagement the Noble Soldierly PTSD and, the yet more rare, Self-Actualization Quest.
But in Dancing at Midnight Julia Quinn decided to go for an internal struggle that I can't regard with apathy, only rage.
John Blackwood's specific manpain is centered entirely around the fact that when he was in the army, he got drunk one night and as such failed to ensure that one of his fellow soldiers didn't rape a thirteen-year-old girl, which girl immediately thereafter killed herself, and whose mother blamed John for his failure to protect her as he'd offhandedly said he would just hours before.
Then the reader is somehow supposed to give a fuck that John feels really, really, really badly about it all, feel sorry about his offensive insistence that his soul is blackened~ as good as if he were himself a rapist, and rejoice when he ultimately decides that nursing Belle Blydon through a life-threatening fever absolves him of his imaginary crime because a life for a life amirite, one woman in a completely incomparable circumstance is as good as any other!
Everything about this book is irresponsible and downright exploitative and everyone involved should be ashamed of themselves.
