August Minireviews – Part 2 – #20BooksofSummer

Still plowing through a pile of back-log reviews!!!

When Patty Went to College by Jean Webster – 4* – #20BooksofSummer

//published 1903//

This was a funny sort of book because there really wasn’t a plot.  We don’t get any character background or explanations – instead the reader is just dumped right into Patty’s senior year of college.  Each chapter is a little adventure, but other than Patty herself, nothing really ties them together.  In that way, this book was a little bit of a disappointment, and I definitely didn’t love this one as much as the Daddy Long-Legs books (especially Dear Enemy… gosh, I love that book SO MUCH).  Still, the stories were funny, and Patty and her friends very likable.  This is also #10 for #20BooksofSummer, so I’ve made it halfway through the list!

The Temporary Wife by Jeannie Moon – 3*

//published 2013//

This was a fun little story, although ultimately unmemorable.  I do love a marriage of convenience trope, and usually can’t resist them even if they sound terrible.  While I enjoyed this one while I was reading it, I didn’t quite enjoy it enough to pony up $4/ea for the rest of the books in the series.  Overall, this one had some likable characters and an interesting premise, but was a bit choppy on the execution and had a bit too much shagging for my taste.

Joy in the Morning by P.G. Wodehouse – 5*

//published 1947//

What holiday is complete without a Wodehouse??  This is one of my very favorites, and I read it in almost one sitting this time around.  There is nothing I can say about Wodehouse that hasn’t been said before.  If you haven’t read him yet, you need to find one immediately!

“One prefers, of course, on all occasions to be stainless and above reproach, but, failing that, the next best thing is unquestionably to  have got rid of the body.”

The Convenient Marriage by Georgette Heyer – 4*

//published 1934//

While this story was engaging and had its funny moments (the whole scene where they are trying to be highwaymen is quite, quite funny), it really wasn’t one of my all-time favorite Heyer stories (even with my favorite trope).  The main female character speaks with a stammer, something that doesn’t bother me at all to listen to in real life but g-g-g-grates on m-m-m-my nerves v-v-v-very m-m-much when reading.  It also seemed completely unnecessary.  Still, a happy one-off read, even if it isn’t one that I intend to add to my permanent collection.

The Five-Minute Marriage by Joan Aiken – 4.5*

//published 1978//

On the theme of marriages of convenience, I reread this one while on vacation as well.  While not quite as perfect as I remember (how could I possibly have forgotten how ridiculous it was that the entire family had names related to Arthurian legend??  Did I just not notice it the first time around??  The evil cousin’s name is Mordred??  Really??) this was nonetheless a truly delightful and fun romance, with a strong-minded and independent heroine who isn’t obnoxious.  It’s a bit on the melodramatic side, but I still thoroughly enjoyed the read.

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It isn’t the great big pleasures that count the most; it’s making a great deal out of the little ones.

-Judy in Daddy Long-Legs by Jean Webster, 1912

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It isn’t the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh–I think that requires spirit.

Judy in Daddy Long-Legs by Jean Webster, 1912

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Most people don’t live; they just race.

They are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose all sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out, and it doesn’t make any difference whether they’ve reached their goal or not.

-Judy in Daddy Long-Legs by Jean Webster, 1912

Dear Mr. Knightley

by Katherine Reay

Published 2013

So I actually really enjoy books that are letters when they are done well.  Someone told me that this was a remake of the 1912 delight Daddy Long-Legs, so I thought I would give it a whirl.

In Dear Mr. Knightley, Samantha (of course known as Sam…  is there any Samantha who goes by Samantha?) has grown up in various foster care homes, and spent the last several years of her legal childhood living in a sort of group home run presumably by Catholics, since the fellow in charge is Father John, called Grace House.  Sam is offered a scholarship of sorts of a prestigious journalist school in Chicago.  In exchange for having her tuition paid, Sam must write monthly letters to her unknown benefactor (“Mr. Knightley”) telling of her progress.

So this book was a solid 3/5 for me.  It literally stirred zero strong feelings in me, to the point where I wasn’t even going to bother reviewing it.  A fine read, not a waste of my time, but not something I want to recommend or anti-recommend to anyone, either.  But I enjoyed it enough to want to give Reay another chance, so I got on GoodReads to see if she had written anything else.  While there, I made the mistake of getting sucked into other people’s reviews of this book.  To my surprise, it apparently stirs very strong feelings in everyone else, because everyone either gave this book a 1 or a 5, which I found intriguing.  As I read through the reviews, I began to get annoyed, because people disliked this book for the wrong reasons, and so, here I am, writing a review for a book that I apparently liked more than I thought because the negative reviews made me feel rather defensive.

Here’s the deal: this concept doesn’t really work as a modern adaptation.  I don’t know how else to say it.  Where Daddy Long-Legs felt natural and real, Dear Mr. Knightley felt stilted and forced.  The whole book would have worked a thousand times better if Sam had just been writing in her journal, to the point where I just pretended she was writing in her journal so I could enjoy the book more.

But most of the complaints in the negative reviews centered around the fact that Sam didn’t sleep with her boyfriend, and that really began to tick me off.  Sam ends up living in an apartment over a garage.  The family who owned said apartment are super nice and rather conservative and they have younger children, and Sam decides that she really doesn’t want her (new) boyfriend staying the night because she doesn’t want to set a bad example for the kids.  As the story progresses, Sam just simply isn’t read to get in bed with this guy.  She really likes him, but she has a lot of trust issues (see: Sam’s tragic back story growing up in foster homes) and just isn’t ready.  All the reviews saying that this was “completely unrealistic” and that Sam just needed to “loosen up” and no 23-year-old girl could be so naive as to not know what her boyfriend wanted (which, by the way, misses the whole point – Sam did know what he wanted, and she just didn’t want to give it to him), really, really, really annoyed me.  Just because you are dating someone does not mean you are obligated to sleep with him/her.  I’m quite tired of the message being the opposite, that dating = sex and that if you aren’t having sex, then you aren’t dating right.  My gosh.  Sam’s reasons behind her decision to not sleep with her boyfriend were sound and logical, and even if they weren’t, it’s her choice and she can do what she wants.  I think it’s funny that the liberals are quite insistent that everyone do whatever they want to do, unless, of course, they don’t want to do whatever it is the liberals are doing.  Sheesh.

Anyway.  The other big rant about this book, read in multiple reviews, also illustrated that people missed the entire point of the story.  Sam has been abused and neglected her entire life.  She discovered Pride and Prejudice at a younger age, and books became her escape.  She loves the classics and has an excellent memory.  When she gets nervous or doesn’t know what to say, she quotes.  It’s her way of putting up a barrier, making sure people don’t get too close, keeping her life hidden.  Is it annoying?  Yes, that’s the point.  Sam isn’t real when she’s quoting; she’s hiding.  She spends the entire book learning to grow out of that shell, learning to face her past and let it make her stronger, instead of hiding it and letting it cripple her.

While I didn’t love this book, I appreciated Sam’s growth as a person, and her yearning for normalcy.

Actually, my biggest – by far and away – beef with this book?  It’s an obvious retelling of Daddy Long-Legs, yet that book is not mentioned a single time.  I literally read through everything – dedication, acknowledgements, endnotes, you name it, looking for some acknowledgement of Jean Webster’s classic story, and it wasn’t there.  That really burned me, actually, to the point of thinking about writing Reay a letter.  I mean seriously?

This is a fine fluff book, not a total waste of time, and I wouldn’t mind reading something by Reay in the future (if she can avoid plagiarism next time), but overall I would say time would be better spent reading Jean Webster’s Daddy Long-Legs and, even better, its sequel (and my favorite), Dear Enemy.