Aimee

It's rare nowadays that a book hooks me immediately from the get-go, but I knew pretty early on that I was going to enjoy—and I did, very much so. 

I'm going to have to re-read this book to give it the review it deserves, but I loved it. I thought it a beautifully told story without overwrought and unnecessary dramatics; just the simple yet profoundly wholesome story of two men falling in love during a time that didn't see it as such. 

I'm going to have to re-read this to give a proper review. This first read was purely enjoyment.

It would've been a 5* for me has there not been times where pacing felt a bit laggy. 

But, overall, I really enjoyed this read, and will definitely be looking at other books in Emily Henry's oeuvre :) 

Between a 4.25 and a 4.5 rating overall. 

My first Mimi Matthews book, and it was wonderfully different to my typical HR reads; I'd grown tired of the overused rakish Dukes and insta-lust, and this was a surprising but very welcome departure. 

This was like the complete opposite of insta-lust/a lack of emotional connection. I really felt that Philly and Arthur's connection was borne from commonalities and compatible personalities over sexual attraction or otherwise. Sure, the physicality was there to a certain extent, but it didn't feel lusty; more so a seemingly genuine appreciation for someone beautiful—both body and character. Tbh, I felt no lust whatsoever, which could be partly attributed to the fact that Mimi doesn't write intimate scenes. Their interactions and connections felt wonderfully devoid of lust, yet their compatibility in all aspects didn't dwindle despite that. Their scenes, and especially their initial scenes, were so lovely and sweet; a very innocent, first-love type love.

On a similar note, it was wonderful to finally have some emotional intelligence and maturity between a couple. Wilful miscommunication between two adults has always rubbed me wrong, so I was really happy to see how well they communicated with each other—minus the obvious, and though can understand why Arthur lied by omission with the Duke and such, I do wish he'd have communicated it earlier.
Another thing I picked up early that I really enjoyed was Mimi's writing. Her writing's as strong as any other accomplished HR author, but what stood out to me was her ability to create and sustain atmosphere. A key example was how well I felt she expressed Moreland's atmosphere and demeanour—very uncomfortable, very sinister, without overdoing it. He truly felt like a psychopath (or is it a sociopath? I always get the two mixed up). In addition, the small scene with Forsythe during Philly and the Duke's  carriage ride was so well placed despite its seemingly small inclusion. It served to really hammer home that sense of dread and uneasiness; you could feel what Forsythe was likely thinking at that moment, able to visualise the ominous scene that he was seeing: another young woman on the cusp...
Relating to that, I loved the initial contrast between the Duke and Arthur; a discussion on violence, power, masculinity, and trauma that subverts itself when you look at the Duke versus Arthur—trauma-induced versus cruelty-inflicted, and violence as a symptom of injury, not of character. The “half-mad” former soldier versus the man whose violence is an extension of himself, a feature of his personality. The sad irony was really palpable to me, given that Arthur was a man brutalised by violence, Moreland as a man who brutalises with violence, and the contrast between the Duke's carriage ride versus Arthur in Chapter 20 is enough to instil that. I felt it really elevated the romance between Philly and Arthur; two wounded people recognising and working through both inflicted pain and inherent cruelty—in the ways they've respectively experienced it.
Admittedly, I wasn't expecting Forsythe to be the villain. But despite the surprise, it did come across as somewhat meh for me. I didn't quite understand it. Forsythe fell for Molly; Molly wanted wealth so married the Duke; they continued their affair despite her marriage, until the Duke found out and forced Molly to end it; Forsythe murdered Molly and wanted the Duke blamed, thus deciding he'd murder Philly to have the Duke punished for her murder, and by virtue, Molly's murder?? I get that his vengeance was to Molly for making him feel unworthy of love, but surely the fact that he'd killed her, and the blame resting on the Duke, meant that there was nothing more to be done?? I suppose it was that he felt it was the Duke's fault, but I wasn't really feeling the connection personally. 
But overall, it was a book I truly enjoyed reading. I've missed feeling butterflies when reading, and there were a few moments where I felt them. I'll definitely be reading the rest of Mimi's oeuvre!

I originally had this book set at 2.75, but decided to raise it to a gratuitous 3 as I did enjoy the beginning.

I felt that the beginning was somewhat stronger than the rest, though not without its problems. I wasn't a huge fan of the insta...interest (?). It happened too quickly, with little to truly substantiate this sudden concerned and protective nature. Their lack of any real connection left things feeling inauthentic and simply for convenience's sake, to get the plot rolling quicker. I mean, you're telling me this man's hit over the head and half-dead, yet his interest in Violet prevails enough that he chases her to the south of France? I'd have preferred it, and enjoyed the beginning more, had things been worked differently to where their connection was truly fuelled by something other than superficially developed interest.

While this book attempts to include themes of female strength, it felt very watered down—almost to the point of passive gratuity. This relates to my main gripe with the book as a whole: the male saviour/white knight complex. I could write an essay on the issues I have with this book relating to Daniel's male saviour syndrome (which I may write for my upcoming blog), but the fundamentals follow that I felt Daniel was fixing more than helping. His male saviour complex subverts the attempts at female strength and autonomy by replacing Violet's external control with a more palatable, internalised form—which defeats the whole purpose/underlying message! He becomes this benevolent fixer that ends up framing male protection (and violence) as the singular solution to female pain and trauma, thereby trading her overt oppression for a more romance-justified version of control. More so than that, he engineers the destruction of her external threats, which serves to mitigate any attempt at agency on Violet's part. He becomes the sole agent of change for Violet, providing  freedom like a gift to bestow over a state she achieves. You could argue she achieves this as a byproduct of Daniel's machinations, but her healing journey felt almost secondary to the more overt plot of him proving his worth by rescuing her. It's because of this that I feel she's just exchanged one cage for another, going from one of fear and exploitation to one of luxurious, passionate dependency—an unequal power dynamic with a man that just so happens to be decent.

That being said, Violet's representation of trauma and PTSD was better portrayed here than in other historical romances I've read. However, as others have brilliantly pointed out, a large chunk of Violet's trauma was bitten off. You could argue too much, for despite the majority of the book (and you could argue Daniel's whole character purpose) being dedicated to her recovery, nothing in it felt particularly satisfying. I think this is partially down to how Jacobi and Violet's rapist were handled—also tying into my issues with Daniel's male saviour complex. Both villains make too late of an entrance, with very little development, to feel like much of a threat. Their resolution felt superfluous and too poorly developed to truly warrant the feelings of revenge and justice that I'm sure was Ashley's purpose in those scenes. 

One thing I did appreciate was the infuriatingly sad reminder of how many brilliant women—from the poorest to the wealthiest of the world—were confined to the strict boxes mete out by society, unable to cultivate or mobilise their capabilities. Violet was a decent attempt at highlighting how—in another life, under a different sex, with more resources—she too could have been Daniel: afforded a university education and the time and resources to follow his passions.

That leads me into my next issue, which was how trickle-down economics was framed as kindness, which was most potent in the country inn scene. Perhaps on an individual basis there's some merit, but it still left a distasteful feeling. Daniel's entitlement is on full display, from his actions to Violet's constant rumination of it. Even when the entitlement is acknowledged by Daniel himself, it doesn't make him any more likeable. It feels too much like virtue signalling to come across as anything but a half-assed attempt to make his entitlement more palatable. 

There's so much more I could say, but the review would be too long 😂 I'll update should I decide to write my full thoughts elsewhere.

Overall, I have too many issues with this book—a lot of which I cut—to truly enjoy this book. Aspects were good—I enjoyed the Marseille bonding bits, for example—but there was too much talk and not enough walk for my tastes. Between the poorly developed attempts at female strength (that Violet deserved much better than), to Daniel's persistent need to wax poetry during inopportune speeches (which made him feel like a flip on those villains), the book had too many inconsistencies and instances of performativeness to truly feel like a good book. Disappointing, considering I was very much looking forward to reading Daniel's story.

After being in limbo, trying a few books and nothing quite hitting that unexplainable thing I needed it to hit, I finally found it in this book.
I wasn't a huge fan of Mason overall, though he did have his moments. Linnet was my main source of perseverance. As with most of the books I've read from Alice Coldbreath, the plot was easy-going and lacked drama, though still somehow managed to retain my interest. A few underdeveloped plot points, but those were to be expected.

Overall, for what it was, it did the job. Lighthearted enough to be relaxing but struck the balance where it didn't fall into boring. An okay read :)