For sheer fun, you can't beat Georgette Heyer — but that isn't all she can do. Though this is hailed as a "sprightly" Regency romance (which it is), it contains a lot of social commentary and even oblique criticism of the established mores of the time. And yet with all that, the novel is no thinly disguised tirade against the historical roles of men and women. Its characters are at the forefront, and it is only in the context of their lives that Heyer explores the social underpinnings of their world.

But first for the fluff. Venetia Lanyon has lived an isolated though not unhappy life in the country, managing her brother Conway's estate at Undershaw after their father's death and taking care of her youngest brother, Aubrey, who is lame. Though very beautiful, Venetia has never had a London season, and at twenty-five she is approaching the realm of spinsterhood (yeah, yeah, I know — remember this is Regency England!). Her only suitors are Edward Yardley, a most worthy (but officious) neighbor, and young Oswald Denny, who is bent on being a dark, brooding Byronic hero. Venetia is just coming to a decision about the direction of her life when she unexpectedly encounters the "Wicked Baron," Lord Damerel, whose name is a byword of wickedness in the surrounding country.

In some ways Damerel has an echo of Rochester in him; he has the whole dark-and-terrible past thing going on, he is rude to outsiders, he consorts with Venetia as a friend first, etc. But despite this, I didn't find him particularly compelling. Heyer doesn't do much analysis of Damerel's personality and influences, preferring rather to focus on her heroine. But we miss out a bit by not getting to see things from his perspective. In Sylvester, Heyer delves into both sides of the story and it really helps to make the title character more likable. Damerel especially could have used this treatment, with the sins of his past looming over the present action of the novel. While we do get to see him acting honorably, his former actions are such that a little more introspection and repentance wouldn't be out of order.

One of the heavier themes in this lighthearted story is the double standard for men and women during that period. One of the older married women in the story, Mrs Denny, counsels Venetia explicitly about how the husbands and brothers can go off and have affairs with "the muslin crowd" without it touching their hearts, which always remain faithful to their wives and sisters. Mrs. Denny acknowledges that it is strange to her that the men can carry on these affairs without any apparent emotional turmoil (unlike women), but she seems content with the state of things. And of course, she says, the women who indulge in such affairs are perfect pariahs, not to be associated with. Thank heavens there is no ambiguity there!

Extramarital affairs are wrong and I don't think anyone can indulge in them without emotional and relational repercussions. I'm not advocating a state of things in which women can sleep around with no consequences just like the men. The real problem is that in this period it is acceptable to everybody for men to have these affairs. The women in their lives think it's normal and just swallow it. It's a cynical, ugly thing and Heyer, far from skipping over it in quest of fluffy fun, actually spends a fair amount of time working out these implications in the lives of the characters.

And yet I wasn't wholly satisfied with the ending... there is much joking about all the Paphians Damerel is going to keep alongside his wife, all the orgies they will have, etc. Maybe I'm just straitlaced, but I don't find that amusing — and I doubt Venetia would either if Damerel did indulge in extramarital affairs. I just felt it was treated too lightly. You know it's bad when you start sympathizing with the stuffier characters in a novel!

Perhaps it is for this reason that I found Venetia herself a bit hard to like as the story went on. Oh, of course I didn't want her to marry Edward Yardley or the ridiculous Oswald, and yes, I wanted her to get together with Damerel. But it seemed that she throws everything else out the window when it comes to Damerel. She contemplates ways to ruin herself socially so that she will be on his level; nothing else matters but for her to marry him, even though he is a rake and there is no real evidence of reform. I don't *think* he will be unfaithful to her, but there's that element of doubt, isn't there? But they are good friends; it isn't just about her beauty. Perhaps I simply didn't allow myself to be convinced.

I found Aubrey's condition fascinating in its depiction of the psychology of deformity. Aubrey is a well-written character, and I sympathized with his struggles with his physical issues and how they affect his relationships with other people. This hasn't changed since Regency England; I'm sure a person in a wheelchair or with some other noticeable disability would find much in common with Aubrey's acidic hatred toward anyone who gawks at him or averts their shocked eyes. This tension becomes a plot point and strong motivation for the characters later in the story.

As always, Heyer uses wonderfully authentic Regency sayings in both her characters' dialogue and her narrative (such as "we shall deal extremely" meaning we will get along well; "without a feather to fly with" meaning without any money; "doing it too brown" meaning trying to fool someone and failing, etc.). I should start introducing these phrases into my own conversation, though no doubt they lose some of their zest if they aren't delivered in a perfect British accent. Ah well.

I think what it comes down to is that I would have enjoyed this story more if I felt I could trust the the protagonists. As it was, moral behavior seems important only because of what society would say, not because it was a core part of the characters (as with Austen's Fanny Price or Elizabeth Bennett). And that's why I can't rate this one more highly. A fun romp, to be sure, but lacking that foundational empathy I wanted to feel for the characters. ( )

Lady Wombat says:

So far, my favorite of the non-comic Heyer books. Unlike the majority of her other books, the hero is not simply the empty embodiment of the Regency ideal, but a far more complex creature. So, too, is Venetia, one of the few heroines who doesn't end up simply letting the man solve all her problems. Good delineation of secondary characters, too.

Not my favourite Heyer novel, but even so it still sparkles. Venetia is a great heroine, she's fun, knows her own mind and will not settle for second best, and is not afraid to risk everything to get it. Damerel is a typical Heyer hero in that he is not as black as his reputation. Venetia and Damerel's friendship feels very authentic, especially in comparison with the suffocating attentions of the well meaning, but boring, Edward and the histrionic Denny and Damerel's aunt's well meaning attempts to marry him off and restore his reputation. ( )

I loved this book! Probably my favorite Heyer novel so far. Venetia was a wonderful, bold heroine and her relationship with Damerel was just... exquisitely mismatched. ( )

Delightful Venetia Lanyon is nearly resigned to spinsterhood despite her beauty, thanks to enormous responisibility and two lackluster suitors, but her rake of a neighbor, Lord Damerel, gives her a kiss that awakens her passion, and undoes a bachelor.