The Black Moth (1921)

Jack Carstares, the disgraced Earl of Wyncham, left England seven long years ago, sacrificing his honour for that of his brother when he was accused of cheating at cards. Now Jack is back, roaming his beloved South Country in the disguise of a highwayman. Not long after his return, he encounters his old adversary, the libertine Duke of Andover, just in time to dispute at the point of his sword the attempted abduction of a society beauty. But foiled once, the ‘Black Moth’ has no intention of failing again … Elsewhere, Jack’s younger brother Richard has reluctantly taken up the role as head of the house in Jack’s absence, and must endure daily snits and whinging from the love of his life, Lady Lavinia.

Written when she was just 15, The Black Moth is no doubt a great achievement, but it is Heyer’s first book and it shows.

The italics above is the blurb given on the book, and I felt mislead. Two-thirds of the plot actually revolved around Richard and Lavinia, both of whom are incredibly annoying and not characters I enjoyed spending time with. Richard is a spineless sap while Lavinia is incredibly self-centred and silly. We meet Jack in the prologue, and then he completely disappears for almost 100 pages. If he was a much larger part of the story and his character developed further I probably would’ve enjoyed him at least.

The Black Moth has issues with pacing. The focus on Richard and Lavinia involved no action and was not only boring but worse, often irritating. There was a lot of Telling and almost no Showing regarding their relationship and I have no real idea of why Richard was so besotted with her. We’re also left to decide for ourselves what Jack and Diana (the society beauty) see in each other – although that doesn’t require a lot of analysis. Diana does show moments of the spark Heyer’s leading ladies are known for, but it’s not enough. Heyer’s trademark wit was clearly still in development and there is little of it here.

The whole premise of the story seems weak. Too much is made of the accusation against Jack, and therefore Jack’s position in society is resolved with ease when he does reappear. While this is clearly the point of that plot line, it all comes across as a bit too tidy for my liking. And after the final confrontation between Jack, Diana and the Duke, I found the Duke’s reaction rather odd and was left a bit bemused.

Overall, The Black Moth just didn’t work for me on almost every level. ( )

I can’t make up my mind whether I like this one or not. I guess I do, but the heroine is so wimpy! I prefer the heroines along the lines of Frederica or Mary Challoner or Drusilla Morville. (June 2008)

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Her earliest book. The characters overall were pretty flat, except for the villain, who was at least annoying. It’s also a little more on the wild side of her books, and more and more I’m gravitating towards the other kind. [Feb. 2010] ( )

Every time I read this book and it is worth rereading, I am flabbergasted by the fact that Georgette Heyer began it when she was fifteen years old. The characters are very well drawn with a subtle mixture of emotional depths that is very insightful. Even her villain is quite three dimensional with an intriguing blend of good and bad that made him in the end quite likable.

Nobody does period speech as well as Heyer and she has been much emulated. If I had to compare Heyer with Jane Austen all I can say it I have read her more often and more repeatedly that any of Austin's works in which case once was enough. ( )

The very odd thing about this story is that its plot is very juch the back story suggested for several of the characters in These Old Shades except the names are different. The repentant villain of this story is in effet the hero of that one. This sequence (there is a third, Devil's Cub) are among my favorites of Heyer's, though set earlier (mid1700s) than her Regency classics. ( )

I acquired this rather late and reading it long, long after "These old shades" the thing that strikes me most is how much it reads as a study for Justin Alastair. The same ruthlessness, sardonic wit and elegance. One almost wishes him to get away with it. ( )