February Book Choices

Ok, so since February is all about romance, I thought I'd do the following theme:

Classic Romance Novels (that I have not read by three of my favorite authors)


A Laodicean by Thomas Hardy.

Hardy is my favorite author, but I never have read this one. The following little review seems sort of dry, but I guarantee you, no Hardy novel is dry. Romantic desire is at the heart of each of his stories, while interwoven with a different social/economical dilemma in each.

Using the restoration of a castle as a framework, classic novelist Thomas Hardy considers the ancient analogy between architecture and philosophy. "Laodicean" is a term for early Christians lukewarm in their beliefs. Hardy's character, passionate architect George Somerset finds himself captivated by "Laodicean" Paula Power, whose views on conventions of any kind are lukewarm at best.


The Professor by Charlotte Bronte.

This book is said to be her most autobiographical. While the main character is actually a man, it describes Charlotte's obsession with her own professor, which resonates in each of her novels.

The hero of Charlotte Bronte's first novel escapes a dreary clerkship in industrial Yorkshire by taking a job as a teacher in Belgium. There, however, his entanglement with the sensuous but manipulative Zoraide Reuter, complicates his affections for a penniless girl who is both teacher and pupil in Reuter's school.


Twilight Sleep by Edith Wharton.

Ummm . . . so this one does not sound strictly "romantic" but I couldn't resist given the title. I cannot imagine the romance takes too far of a back seat, given Wharton's history. Here is a little review (the shortest I could find!):

Wharton is as stunningly effective as in "A House of Mirth", here conveying the frustration of a circle of people interdependent upon one another, destined to follow society's rules no matter what the cost. Each character desperately clutches at a "twilight sleep"; the mode of coping each engages to distance reality. Masquerading as habit or whim, the painted veil of illusion overlays each mode of addictive escape. Nona, the beautiful, well-bred New Yorker struggles with an imperatrix sister-in-law Lita, whose values (and their consequences) threaten the entire social order Nona's family fabric is woven of. The Marchesa dispenses her social value as Pauline erases her son's debts. Lita's tabloid exposure and screen career must be suppressed. The men escape into work while the women flail at vanity of excess. The whistle of tragedy sounds in the distance as Nona falls into love with a married man, her brother Jim hopelessly esconced in a bad marriage with a woman he idolises, while her father works himself into an eagerly embraced oblivion, while Jim's father openly drinks to forget the societal oasis he knew before his divorce. Nona's mother compulsively schedules all their lives to death, while pursuing the escapist mysticism of faith healing and the blind support of the latest guru. As the Jazz Age brings down the curtain on the theatre of old New York and its values, Art and Cinema loom. While the family coalesces at their country estate to save Jim and Lita's marriage, each battle with their chosen talisman against life and its evils. Much more is at stake and much more is lost. This startlingly psychological novel will fascinate any student of life. The sacrifice of a fragment to obtain the societal whole inevitably comes, more starkly portrayed here than anywhere, the novel having served as forceful denouement. In the tolling bells of Whartons' worlds, the death of illusion sounds the deepest peal.


There you have it. Here is a poll: