I guess I was overly disappointed because it’s Loretta Chase, and I know she can write amazing, well-written books with great, intelligent characters. That was not this book at all.

Zoe was a fleshed out character? You must be joking. She was inconsistent at best and completely ridiculous at worst. The thing about the harem was laughable; and while she’s billed as spunky, it’s more like she’s oblivious with the emotional maturity of a three year old. Marchmont wasn’t much better. This is definitely not one of Chase’s better books.
And what is up with Chase and jewels lately, anyway? She went on and on about them in the book before this one, too, but in that instance I thought it was clever because the main character was a courtesan and courtesans were often called jewels. But now I’m beginning to think it was actually just completely random.

Tell us how you really feel!

You’re right — Zoe is only “fleshed out” in relation to the other women in the book. In particular, I was surprised at the lack of attention paid to her recovery from kidnapping and slavery. The book begins right when she returns — wouldn’t you think she would have some psychological issues to work through?

And you’re right, the jewels were a very important theme, in the worst possible way. All of the women were left drooling idiots in the presence of jewels, even Zoe, who just adored her giant gawdy engagement ring.

And what is up with Chase and jewels lately, anyway? She went on and on about them in the book before this one, too, but in that instance I thought it was clever because the main character was a courtesan and courtesans were often called jewels. But now I’m beginning to think it was actually just completely random.

Yes, all daughters of Eve, the original bad apple.

Angela, you nailed it. I’m on page 154 of this book right now and I’m getting progressively more creeped out by the dynamic between this grown man and this child-woman hybrid. She’s sexually informed, yet inexperienced. She speaks with the uncensored forthrightness of a child, and expresses her anger by doing things like stamping her foot, kicking his shins, and throwing a book at his head.

Yes, I think you are both right, and thanks you for helpong me see more clearly this aspect of the heroine’s characterization.

And, of course, as Angela noted, the fantasy of the women-girl, the adult but child, the experienced but naive, excitingly active but controllably passive, sinful but pure, is an old one, an impossible set of dichotomous expectations no one woman could inhabit — and that’s the point, right? This makes the characterization of Zoe of a piece with that of her sisters: different stereotypes are in play, but they are drawn from the same bin of bad apples.

If there was an embodiment of the virgin/whore dynamic then Zoe was it. A Victorian Englishman’s wet dream, as it were.

Angela, you nailed it. I’m on page 154 of this book right now and I’m getting progressively more creeped out by the dynamic between this grown man and this child-woman hybrid. She’s sexually informed, yet inexperienced. She speaks with the uncensored forthrightness of a child, and expresses her anger by doing things like stamping her foot, kicking his shins, and throwing a book at his head.

I can believe that Zoe’s development was somewhat arrested by her years in the harem, but I just prefer, as a reader, to see heroes lusting after grown women (Mr. Impossible‘s Daphne, for instance) instead of these vaguely fetishized creatures.

The portrayal of the book’s other women is really secondary, for me, to my difficulties with the h/h relationship.

For my part, I got the impression that the heroine of LOS believed that men generally behaved like little boys. I’m not sure if that’s better than depicting women as “vain, stupid, shallow, and selfish” but could it be that if one takes Chase’s work as a whole, one can see a pattern of derogatory stereotyping which affects both genders?

I wouldn’t want to make that blanket judgment without rereading the Chase’s I’ve read. I can honestly say it never occurred to me until I read DTM.

I don’t think stereotyping is a good idea in fiction in general, but I’m personally more unhappy with harmful stereotypes about women in a patriarchal society than about men.

Angela Toscano wrote:

I’m so glad you wrote this, Jessica. I couldn’t get through it. Every page I read was painful to me especially the descriptions of Zoe’s sexuality. If there was an embodiment of the virgin/whore dynamic then Zoe was it. A Victorian Englishman’s wet dream, as it were. It really bothered me, not to mention the descriptions of her sisters.

I didn’t get into this, but I agree with you that Zoe;s sexuality was discomfiting for the reasons you mention. I also had a problem with the heroine; sexuality in her last book. She was a courtesan, which I loved, but there was no trace of present or past lovers, which I thought gave readers the same impression a spinster story would.

Carolyn Crane wrote:

Here’s the other thing, though. As I read, (and please know that I’m making this comment with other books in mind, not this one) I sort of push items that irk me like this aside in my mind, because for me it tends to be all about the entertainment, and I just want to get to that. So I rarely question those sorts of things or demand anything different, because in my mind, it’s what comes with certain books. And if at some point items like this hinder my entertainment, like commenters above, I stop reading.

Carolyn, I agree with you — there’s a certain level I can take of what I dislike, but when it goes beyond that, my enjoyment takes a dive.

I think we all have things we can’t push aside. Historical inaccuracy, for example, doesn’t bother me. Even lame Scottish accents don’t bother me. Noblemen with bodies like bricklayers? Doesn’t bother me. Virgins who have multiple climaxes the first time? Nope.

But pernicious stereotypes of women are my hangup, and this one just crossed the line for me.

Here’s the other thing, though. As I read, (and please know that I’m making this comment with other books in mind, not this one) I sort of push items that irk me like this aside in my mind, because for me it tends to be all about the entertainment, and I just want to get to that. So I rarely question those sorts of things or demand anything different, because in my mind, it’s what comes with certain books. And if at some point items like this hinder my entertainment, like commenters above, I stop reading. And it occurs to me that I’ll have the (usually unacknowledged) sense that most other romance readers are probably fine with this, and I’m somehow just in the minority or being extreme. What is that? It’s like an unexamined bias against ‘romance readers’ of which I am one. Would I react the same way in any other genre? I guess I’d have to think about that.

Anyway, I’m glad for a post like this.

Unlike you, I never identified much with the heroines in the old school romances. Probably because I came at romances older and from reading fairy tales & fantasy, a genre that gave me a complex about being the oldest sister. Even at a really young age I was particularly sensitive to elder “wicked” and “ugly” sisters in stories and strongly identified with them. Same case in “Don’t Tempt Me” every time the sisters came on stage I thought “Surely, that’s not all there is to them”? As a combined result of these things, I don’t think I got past page 84. I also distrusted the fact that Zoe’s main appeal to Lucien seemed to be the fact that she was a stripper trapped in the body of an English debutante. Which was weird because the prologue would have suggested an entirely different story and character. I didn’t see the children in that prologue in the adult characters. Zoe’s attractiveness should not have been so situated (at least at the beginning since I didn’t get further) on the sensual. Lady Tarling was probably sensual. There are many beautiful women out there, many attractive women, why does the hero fall for this one and not that one? Oh I see. She’s the most beautiful . No, not good enough. I want something that shows me how love comes in a better manner than that.

Lord of Scoundrels I think played with the old-skool romance stereotypes whereas I don’t have the impression of Don’t Tempt Me doing that. Jessica may have started out with a misguided, misandronist attitude towards men but both she and Dain grow and mature over the course of the novel and come to appreciate each other as equals based on internal character rather than external factors like beauty. In fact, that’s one of the things I have always favored in Chase’s books. I don’t know why it failed in this new one.

Just an aside, have you noticed the philosophers with the most heinous things to say about women are always the ones who had the least contact with women? Except for Rousseau who had too much contact with women, if you know what I mean.