A discussion and review of Lauren Willig’s The Secret History of the Pink Carnation.
I listened to SH, narrated by Kate Reading, who did a wonderful job. I downloaded this last year, and it has languished in my audio TBR pile ever since. I was motivated to finally listen to it by Keishon’s TBR Challenge, one day late. Click on the cover below for excerpts, outtakes, and purchase information.
First a brief description and review (and, having only listened to the audio, I apologize in advance if I get any details wrong. I considered purchasing the ebook for my Kindle but at $9.99 — the paperback is $5.60 — I couldn’t justify the cost):
SH is a regency romance with a contemporary framing device. The contemporary story is a first person narration by Eloise, Harvard history dissertator in London researching the identity of the heroic Napoleon-foiler the Purple Gentian, and being prevented from getting the access she would like to the Selwick family papers by Colin, the distrusting, arrogant, but young and handsome, family descendant. When Eloise gets her hands on the diaries of Amy Balcourt, the narrative switches to third person omniscient, which was quite jarring for me, personally, as no diaries or letters would be written that way. The bulk of the novel follows the story of Amy, whose French father was killed by Napoleon’s men, and whose English mother died shortly thereafter of grief, as she travels from Shropshire England to France to join the league of the Purple Gentian and fight Napoleon herself. She meets and falls in love with the Purple Gentian, as well as meeting and being attracted Lord Richard Selwick, an Englishman abroad who appears to be happy working as a historian and collector of artifacts for Napeolon.
Here’s the thing about this book: you can’t take it even slightly seriously if you want to enjoy it. It is a comedy. You have a young English miss who decides to go to France and bring down Napoleon, who meets up with men in gardens at night, and who almost loses her virginity to a masked stranger in a rowboat on the Seine. You have a master spy whose major skill seems to be detecting the heroine’s identity by the sway of her hips, and you have a French inspector who says things like “so we meet again” and has a “super secret dungeon”, and a Napoleon whose office is left open for the seemingly constantly unchaperoned heroine to search in broad daylight.
The chick-lit framing story (complete with several references to shoe brands. I don’t have to name them for you, do I?) is minimal to the point of being nearly nonexistent, as is the plot of the historical bulk of the novel. Both Amy, the plucky, unexpectedly highly educated, impetuous, foot stamping, curl bouncing, tiny, beautiful heroine, and Richard, the sardonic, cool, handsome, intelligent super spy (we’ll have to take the author’s word on this, as our intrepid Amy scoops him nearly every turn, and her presence has the unfortunate effect of turning him into a giant raging hormone) who knows better than to deflower Amy, but can hardly help it.
I enjoyed this book for what it was: a historical romance with all of the usual tropes, played for comedy, and written in a style that mimics “better” fiction. You might be wondering, actually, what the author did with 464 pages and almost no plot? Well, she wrote. There are loads of comic asides and detailed descriptions, and careful scenes of dialogue, like this:
“I thought I’d find you here.”
“What?” Amy was jolted out of her blissful contemplation of Edouard’s letter, as a blue flounce brushed against her arm.
A basket of wildflowers on Jane’s arm testified to a walk along the grounds, but she bore no sign of outdoors exertion. No creases dared to settle in the folds of her muslin dress; her pale brown hair remained obediently coiled at the base of her neck; and even the loops of the bow holding her bonnet were remarkably even. Aside from a bit of windburn on her pale cheeks, she might have been sitting in the parlor all afternoon.
“Mama has been looking all over for you. She wants to know what you did with her skein of rose-pink embroidery silk.”
“What makes her think I have it? Besides,” Amy cut off what looked to be a highly logical response from Jane with a wave of Edouard’s letter, “who can think of embroidery silks when this just arrived?”
“A letter? Not another love poem from Derek?”
“Ugh!” Amy shuddered dramatically. “Really, Jane! What a vile thought! No,” she leaned forward, lowering her voice dramatically, “it’s a letter from Edouard.”
“Edward?” Jane, being Jane, automatically gave the name its English pronunciation. “So he has finally deigned to remember your existence after all these years?”
“Oh, Jane, don’t be harsh! He wants me to go live with him!”
Jane dropped her basket of flowers.
“You can’t be serious, Amy!”
“But I am! Isn’t it glorious!” Amy joined her cousin in gathering up scattered blooms, piling them willy-nilly back in the basket with more enthusiasm than grace.
I think you have to be in the mood for this kind of writing, because as a reader you are constantly being asked to pause in the action and smile or nod or appreciate the wittiness or nice turn of phrase, rather than just being invited to pass through them to get into the story. I did enjoy it overall — it was very very funny at points — especially on audio. But I have to confess that the style is not my thing, and so it’s a matter of subjective preference, and no reflection on the book, that I likely won’t continue with this series.
In preparation for writing this review, I looked at the Amazon reviews, and was shocked to see the vitriol with which the many people who gave SH a one or two star rating expressed their views of this book. How could so many of them be shocked to discover SH is a romance novel?
It turns out that the fact that this was a romance was not at the forefront of the marketing of the book, or it was, but there were other cues from other genres mixed in. First, the title and cover are not typical (no naming of a title, such as duke, no clinch, no bare skin). And it was released in hard back and trade paperback, not mass market.
How about the blurbs? Not that much to signal a romance. Eloisa James calls it a “delicious caper… a fascinating story”.
“This genre-bending read a dash of chick-lit with a historical twist has it all: romance, mystery, and adventure.” Meg Cabot, author of The Princess Diaries
“A historical novel with a modern twist” — Mina Ford
“A merry romp with never a dull moment” — Mary Balogh
The blurb doesn’t have the usual cues either (a focus on the hero and heroine and their conflict), although it is clear there is a “passionate romance” somewhere within the pages:
The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, a wildly imaginative and highly adventurous debut, opens with the story of a modern-day heroine but soon becomes a book within a book. Eloise Kelly settles in to read the secret history hoping to unmask the Pink Carnation’s identity, but before she can make this discovery, she uncovers a passionate romance within the pages of the secret history that almost threw off the course of world events. How did the Pink Carnation save England? What became of the Scarlet Pimpernel and the Purple Gentian? And will Eloise Kelly find a hero of her own?
Willig herself said in an article at MSNBC.com which pictures her at Harvard, where she was in law school when she wrote the book, “[SH] is sort of on that uneasy cusp between what you call a traditional romance novel and more mainstream historical fiction.”
And in the same article: “Laurie Chittenden, Willig’s editor at Dutton, said the novel is a unique marriage of ‘chick lit’ and serious fiction.”
In that article, and in many others at the time of the debut, and in the marketing of this book, Willig’s own educational background (graduate work in history at Harvard as well as a law degree) was a part of the package in selling the book as historical fiction.
I may be totally off base in this, but in my opinion, while the writing style was not typical of historical romance, the character, plot, situations, setting, sensuality level, and focus on romance situate this book 100% smack dab in the middle of the genre. To me, the difference was in the writing style.
If you took a passage like this:
A basket of wildflowers on Jane’s arm testified to a walk along the grounds, but she bore no sign of outdoors exertion. No creases dared to settle in the folds of her muslin dress; her pale brown hair remained obediently coiled at the base of her neck; and even the loops of the bow holding her bonnet were remarkably even. Aside from a bit of windburn on her pale cheeks, she might have been sitting in the parlor all afternoon.
And de-Williged it, it would read more like this:
Jane approached carrying a basket of wildflowers, looking her usual utterly composed self.
Because I happen to really like historical romance, I liked SH, but I think marketing this book as historical fiction backfired for at least some readers who have very negative opinions of romance and felt tricked into reading one.
Here’s a typical Amazon 1 or 2 star review:
I went in to reading the book expecting a tongue-in-cheek take on espionage during the French Revolution. Instead, I got a bodice-ripper.
And another:
The author sounds smart and interesting, to bad she’s using her skills to produce formulaic drivel. The historical background of this book is geared for the type of reader who only reads the first paragraph of any story in the newspaper.
A Goodreads review from 2006 is typical:
Perhaps my disappointment is my own fault. The jacket blurb is fabulous, the cover captivating, the premise intriguing. I waited weeks to have enough to time to curl up on the sofa and read this book. I made it to page 55 (at page 22 I decided to force myself to get to page 100-not going to happen though, I just can’t do it.).
I thought I was getting a fabulous historical novel, but it reads like every other Regency era romance out there
And people are still getting mad about it 5 years later. Here’s a GoodReads review from last month:
This book was crap. It was just complete and total crap. The thing that made me the most angry is that at the back of the book the author has a “historical note” where she talks about this garbage in light of its place in the “historical fiction” genre. Oh. My. Gosh. THERE WAS NOTHING HISTORICAL ABOUT IT! The Scarlet Letter is historical fiction. Cold Mountain is historical fiction. This, as I have already said, is crap. Mentioning Napoleon and the year 1803 does not make a book historical fiction. It makes it a crappy romance novel that mentions Napoleon and the year 1803.
If you look at blog reviews, many of them came from non-romance blogs, and many were quite critical on the same grounds. For example, seeFyrefly’s Book Blog for her (not vitriolic at all, but decidedly mixed) review and a list of other reviews.
I’m not shocked at how derogatory the reviewers were about the romance genre — that is old news. But it surprised me to take this little trip into the history of the series and see how SH was marketed.
I guess the publisher (Dutton, a division of Penguin, I think) knew what it was doing, because the sixth book in the series was just published this year and made the NYT extended bestseller list, and while there are far fewer reviews for later installments on Amazon.com, the average rating is higher (4 stars). I would be interested to know who the series’ core readers are, and whether it has attracted a lot of readers of historical fiction.
(PS. The title of this blog post is a joke, a play on the title of the book. I am under no illusion that I have “discovered” any kind of “secret” whatsoever!)
I have this book on my TBR pile!
However, I do remember that when this book was released in 2005, there was a fair bit of resentment within the romance community because of the emphasis on Willig’s academic background and the packaging of the book as a “non-romance” historical romance novel–regardless of the glowing reviews from James and Balogh. The consensus was that the book was a typical historical romance, but it was being presented as “better” than historical romance with its hardcover format and clinch-less covers. However, I feel the packaging and marketing was just another instance of the publishing industry leaning on the loyal, big-spending, voracious-reading romance community, but angling for the acclaim from the historical fiction crowd, who deride anything with romance and sex as “bodice rippers.”
Huh. Very interesting, Jessica. I’ve been meaning to get this for ages, and recently requested it from the library. Now, since I love romance (though not too crazy about chick lit) I’m hopeful that I’ll enjoy it.
However, I, too, was under a misapprehension about it, partly because of the way it was presented, and also because of the “literary fic”-type cover. I was oblivious to the controversy about it, but it makes for interesting food for thought before listening to it.
Thanks for the link! On the whole, I enjoyed this book more than I didn’t enjoy it, but it’s been eight months or so since I’ve read it and I haven’t exactly rushed out to get the sequels, either. My problem was not so much the romance-y nature of it – I’ve read plenty of historical romances that I enjoyed – but with the fact that the “historical” part of things felt a lot like set dressing; it wasn’t grounded in the time it portrayed in the way that I expect a good historical romance to be. I don’t know if that comes from the chick-lit blended into the mix, from Willig leaning too hard on the romance angle and neglecting the history, or if the anachronistic tone is just Willig’s style.
I’m not sure how SH came to my attention; looking at my livejournal notes, it appears that I read it in 2005, so probably not long after it was first published. I remember Willig’s background being heavily emphasized in the marketing, but shrugged it off, because it seemed 1) pretentious and 2) not really relevant — how many lawyers write romance, after all? It seems like a lot.
While I enjoyed SH, each subsequent book seemed less original and engaging, to the point that I stopped even borrowing the books from the library. I think in part because the contemporary portions of the book felt derivative of other chick lit, and also in part because it felt like the plot was being dragged out in effort to extend the series. (Relatively few series can hold my attention beyond three or four books.)
I attended Willig’s workshop on historical research and accuracy at RWA09, and found that her speaking voice in real life is very similar to her written voice in the SH series. IMO.
I think with that statement you nailed it on the head. If you accept all of the books as comedy, they are quite enjoyable. I’ve read all of the books in the series, so does that make me one of her “core” readers? I have only read library copies though because of the hardback format.
In the series, some are better than others. Pink Carnation is, IMHO, one of the better ones. Blood Lily, the latest, is also one of the better ones. BL is set in India and has a heroine who has to do a great deal of growing up. I liked her because she realized her situation was of her own making and she was determined to make the best of it.
Sometimes the “framing” with Eloise and Colin gets old. It interrupts the main story and that can be jarring. But the asides into the present are brief and often are funny in their own right. I’m sure I’ll continue to read the series as long as she writes it.
Your discussion of the marketing and the reception the book has received is interesting. I was aware, of course, of Willig’s background, but had never thought about the rest of it.
I’ve never read this, though I’ve picked it up (in the bargain bin, no less) several times. Every time I’ve read the back cover or the first few pages, there’s something about it that just doesn’t jive with me. It looks like it wants to be historical fiction – seriously, the cover is lovely – but the blurb about “…will Eloisa Kelly find a hero of her own?” tells me that it’s not lit fic but chick lit with a lovely cover. I think I want it to be A.S. Byatt’s Possession but it’s actually something akin to, I don’t know, Candace Bushnell or something (sorry, not well versed in chick lit.) (And the idea of Eloisa Kelly needing to find a hero for herself…well, I have opinions about that too.)
I was unaware as how it was marketed, though it makes sense in retrospect. In terms of the packaging and book type, though, are we now seeing that more often in historical romance? I’m thinking specifically of Kate Noble’s books, both of which were originally released in trade paper format with less romance-tells on the cover except for that damn script font. Actually I can’t think of any other examples off the top of my head, but from a marketing perspective there seems to be a lot of overlap between historical fiction and historical romance reading. I personally wasn’t keen on Noble’s books being released as trade papers for my own financial reasons, but at the time I imagined that had more to do with trying to capture the historical fiction crowd along with the romance readers. I wonder how her books were perceived by those who might have thought they were purchased “serious” historical fiction?
The Scarlet Pimpernel is historical fiction?! OMG, what planet is that reader living on? SP is the ultimate in trashy historical romantic suspense. Just because it’s got the cachet of having been written by a Baroness (Shades of Persuasion: “She’s a ViscountESS! A ViscountESS!”), and is now itself somewhat a historical artifact doesn’t make it anything other than the purplest of purple historical romance, with requisite HEA and many many trashy sequels.
@jmc:
Actually, I think it was (a) her Ivy League education, and (b) the fact that she had done graduate work in early modern British history, that was seen as more relevant than her being in law school.
I confess there was one bit in the MSNBC piece that made me roll my eyes so vigorously they almost rolled right out of my head:
Oh really? I’ll have to tell my husband to get going on that Boer War historical novel right away. Should be a piece of cake!
I think the style might be a feature for me, rather than a bug!
The reason I haven’t read it yet is the frame story. I am not fond of frame stories. But I to plan to read it eventually, since I love reading stories that play with genre.
I agree with most of what you’ve said here. There’s much more emphasis on the historical romance than the contemporary one; I think two weeks pass in “real time” in the first book, compared to months in the world Eloise is researching. That continues in the next two books, which is as far as I’ve read. Obviously the framing romance is going to get worked out over the length of the series, which is a rather Eloisa James sort of device (not that this is a bad thing).
I was in the right frame of mind for these when I picked PC up. I needed light reading, with funny characters and ridiculous situations, and that’s what I got. The marketing angle is interesting, that’s for sure; I suppose if I had picked this up with expectations of SERIOUS HISTORICAL SCHOLARSHIP, I would have been disappointed. But then I find that some popular historical fiction rubs me the wrong way; I’d rather have the light version than be expected to take seriously the stuff in some HF.
And I’m laughing along with Sarah at the idea of Scarlet Pimpernel as historical fiction!
I too was one of those who picked it up expecting it to be historical fiction and instead found it to be more chicklitty. Once I’d got over that and ignored all those pesky questions such as her walking right into Napoleons study, I enjoyed it for what it was, a well written, light novel with an interesting plot.
I have a masters degree in history so I am quite picky about my history in all the fiction I read. I also write historicals but so far no one has ever suggested marketing me as anything other than what I’m happy to be-a romance writer.
I wonder whether this strategy was a success overall for her publisher?
@Sarah Frantz: No , no, it was The Scarlet LETTER in the review. But Willig’s book reminded me of Pimpernel, so no wonder you misread it. Orczy was surely an influence (isn’t it actually referenced? all those flower spies). I really like Pimpernel for its trashiness, so I kind of enjoyed Pink Carnation, but like Kate, from what I had read about it I had expected something more like Possession, so I kept thinking “This is Byatt for dummies” and was rather disappointed. Which was unfair, perhaps, but the marketing did misrepresent it.
@Jessica: Further proof that we all have our own filters. I didn’t (wouldn’t, don’t) care about the MA in history, and marketing that didn’t really make an impression. But I was boggled by the idea that she had time to write a novel while in law school, since most of my classmates struggled to stay on top of reading and writing for course and clinic work.
@Renee: I think this is one of the audio books in which the narrator actually makes the experience an even better one via her performance.
@Evangeline: I agree with your assessment 100%. And thanks for letting me know about romance community reaction in 2005. I would have loved to be here then!
@Fyrefly: Yes, I found it very ironic that the author’s bona fides in history were at the forefront of marketing, when the situations presented in the book were so modern.
@Phyl: Once I saw it as comedic, I stopped getting irritated at things like the hero’s total inability to actually spy. I kept thinking “Princess Bride” and it helped. I did enjoy it overall — after all, there are lots of book I don’t even get through.
@Kate: I think Pam Rosenthal is another historical romance author who gets the Willig/Noble treatment. I haven’t read Noble (have one on my TBR), but to me, Willig is 100% historical romance, while Rosenthal is truly doing something more daring and “out of the box”. (I just don’t count the snippets of modern day in SH. There were so few of them, and they didn’t mesh with the historical plot. I mentally excise them when I categorize this book. Cheating, I realize) It seems to me that the marketing should reflect the contents of the book. But I am naive.
@Sarah Frantz: I’ve seen an adaptation of SP, but never read it. It sounds like I have to remedy that right away!
@Victoria Janssen: I think you might like it a lot. I was careful to put my dislike of the language in the “subjective” category, because I do think it is a matter of taste.
@SonomaLass: You’ve got the timelines right. And in terms of page number, I am guessing less than 5% is devoted to the contemporary romance.
@Kate Pearce: the series sells very well, if the # of books and the latest one’s being on the extended NYT list is any indication. But whether “word got out” after SH that it is a romance, and the bulk of readers are romance readers, or whether the series’ marketing really did attract a group of people who wouldn’t be caught dead reading historical romance, I can’t guess.
@Liz: thanks for the clarification!
@jmc: I know, such an underachiever, that Willig. Poor thing. Maybe one day she’ll actually excel at something.
I was aware of the marketing when the books came out, but since I didn’t read any until they were out in paperback, I’d already seen some reviews. The reviews probably influenced me more than the author’s degrees. I went in expecting something along the lines of well-written historical chicklit and that’s basically what I got. I like the books a lot, and I’ve seen them appeal to sort of a crossover audience. For instance, most of my friends don’t read romance, but several of them read this series.
I read historical fiction as well as romance and I’ve seen these discussed by the hist fic crowd. Some folks like them and some don’t. There are some hardcore historical fiction readers who won’t tolerate even the hint of a romantic plot, but there also seem to be plenty of readers who love historical fiction and also like some romantic plots as long as the book isn’t total wallpaper and it’s packaged to look at least a little more highbrow. Many of these people probably would never pick up anything with a clinch cover, but I can see where something like Willig’s series would hold appeal for them.
I have been reading this series since it came out, and some of the books are hit and miss for me, but I still look forward to each one. I agree that the key to this series is that it is a comedy, it’s not meant to be taken seriously.
I do know of historical fiction readers who enjoyed the series, and also of romance readers. Part of the issue re marketing for this one is in the fact that the books don’t fit any particular genre completely. There’s a bit of chick-lit (I usually just want those part to get moving), some historical data, some historical romance. Oh, and I totally think it is meant to be a nod to The Scarlet Pimpernel. No doubt in my mind.
Funnily enough, this is the second post I have seen about this book in the last year. I guess that means that the marketers did something right if we are still talking about the book five years later, and six books in the series.
I found this one too silly to finish. However, I recently picked up The Betrayal of the Blood Lily (#5, I believe) after reading good things about the setting and central characters. I did enjoy it as mostly lightweight fun with some moments that got my attention. I’m not sure I would read more–or not for a while–but I’m glad this is the book I chose to try Willig again.
On the marketing, I think parts of the online romance community are so constantly looking for offense that they can overreact to any deviation from the usual schlock book covers. The “Author thinks she’s lit fic but she’s only chick lit” and “Book pretends to be Serious but is really average romance” arguments read to me as reverse-chip-on-shoulder and offensive in themselves. (There’s also the “Book pretends to be romance but is really some hybrid form” argument, but it doesn’t sound like that one arises here.)