To Wed a Wicked Prince
Jane FeatherSimon & Schuster
Now, before you all castigate me for reading yet another crappy romance, let me just say that lately, I've had the attention span of a tsetse fly. Prior to picking up this (uh, is there a nice word for piece of shite?) gem, I had actually started Londonstani by Gautam Malkani. Awesome book, but the idiomatic dialogue (part gangsta, part Brit, part South Asian) makes for slow going and I just don't have the time to get into a good reading groove. I know, I know -- it sounds like I'm rationalizing, right? Well, let's just say that if it takes me over a week to read a trashy romance, we are not in Kansas anymore.
So, back to the book. I'm willing to acknowledge that I was an inattentive reader and that I actually skipped over entire sections of this novel (how many descriptions of well-appointed rooms or riding habits can one person take?) And I probably wasn't in the most generous frame of mind when it came to assessing the plot. Yes, it was shallow -- girl meets boy/prince, prince is involved in a plot to assassinate the tsar of Russia and lies to girl, boy and girl fight about the lies and eventually make up -- but it did exist. I cannot, however, find any excuse that can explicate the sheer wretchedness of the writing. Let's hope that Jane Feather is a pseudonym. Honestly, I wouldn't want to admit to having authored this particular story. In fact, I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I even read it. Minus two prinnys out of five.
Now, before you all castigate me for reading yet another crappy romance, let me just say that lately, I've had the attention span of a tsetse fly. Prior to picking up this (uh, is there a nice word for piece of shite?) gem, I had actually started Londonstani by Gautam Malkani. Awesome book, but the idiomatic dialogue (part gangsta, part Brit, part South Asian) makes for slow going and I just don't have the time to get into a good reading groove. I know, I know -- it sounds like I'm rationalizing, right? Well, let's just say that if it takes me over a week to read a trashy romance, we are not in Kansas anymore.
So, back to the book. I'm willing to acknowledge that I was an inattentive reader and that I actually skipped over entire sections of this novel (how many descriptions of well-appointed rooms or riding habits can one person take?) And I probably wasn't in the most generous frame of mind when it came to assessing the plot. Yes, it was shallow -- girl meets boy/prince, prince is involved in a plot to assassinate the tsar of Russia and lies to girl, boy and girl fight about the lies and eventually make up -- but it did exist. I cannot, however, find any excuse that can explicate the sheer wretchedness of the writing. Let's hope that Jane Feather is a pseudonym. Honestly, I wouldn't want to admit to having authored this particular story. In fact, I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I even read it. Minus two prinnys out of five.