Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.94 AVERAGE
3.94 AVERAGE
adventurous
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
A little bit different of a Pimpernel adventure as our daring hero is in the hands of the enemy for most of the tale. Not particularly brilliant but the baroness delivers another exciting story of derring-do and bold plots
Every so often, I feel the urge to venture forth and either return to something I once enjoyed in my youth, or indulge in an area that, for whatever reason, has never greatly appealed to me. A reading challenge required a classic adventure work, and that is a genre that combines aspects of both situations: while I've read some of the big classic examples and liked them well enough, this happened so long ago that the only reason I remember bits of pieces of any of them is through the power of various, not entirely accurate adaptations. Under optimal circumstances, a reread of [b:The Count of Monte Cristo|7126|The Count of Monte Cristo|Alexandre Dumas|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1309203605l/7126._SY75_.jpg|391568] would have been first in my sights, largely due to phenomenal anime adaptation, the fact that I've seen fit to read other Dumas works in the intervening years, and the general delight I feel in telling people, yes, the author is black. However, looking back, my average page count per challenge read for this year is already much higher than I'm personally a fan of, so when this particular, relatively shorter, work crossed my path, fond memories of [b:The Scarlet Pimpernel|136116|The Scarlet Pimpernel|Emmuska Orczy|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1406764899l/136116._SX50_.jpg|750426], plus the usual practicalities of older woman authored work, led me to consider this a rather good score. Now, this work did not go so well in my estimation, and I'm self aware enough to recognize the incompatibility between the genre's typical targets and my own desired indulgences. Still, the fact that it wasn't either of those two far more famous aforementioned works means I still have a couple of rereads in my future, and I'd like to to think, in the case of the Orczy, that the old adage of the first work customarily doing far better than its successors will weigh in my favor.
If one pampered rich boy hadn't willfully succumbed to the most nonsensical of heterosexual nonsense I've seen in literature in a long time, the book could have been wrapped up in a hundred pages or so, easy. As it stands, that was not the case, so it was a matter of twists and turns and the diabolical evils of people who aren't rich trying to govern themselves and the ineffable beauty of the people who are rich trying to rescue their beleaguered comrades in wealthy bloodlines. Why all this good will showed up after the French Revolution outlawed slavery, I'll never know, but in any case, it was off to the races with beauteous damsels, secret disguises, dastardly blackmails, and a dude who couldn't go to two steps without having his massive physique, stoic integrity, sultry eyes, etc, etc, etc complimented by the earnest narrator. Honestly, what engaged me most was not any particular component of the narrative itself, but how easily I managed to catch the two main sleights of hand that figured in the protagonist's clandestinely heroic efforts. I hardly make a habit of reading these sorts of works, but I suppose reading, and every so often trudging through, various types of complicated/experimental/ornately written works at such a pace as I have for the past several years has made it easier for me to take note of narratological linchpins, even when admittedly not putting in close to my average effort. Still, it did deprive the work of some of its thrills and other elements used to generate a feeling of shocked and/or impressed amazement, so when the adventure finally came to a close, it wasn't as exciting as I imagine the author hoped it to be. Ah well. So it goes.
A theory I've mulled over in a largely unspoken manner over the past few years is that women writers are sometimes allowed to exist in the annals of history (in far smaller proportion to their existences in history) if they are especially useful to various components of the social status quo. Children's (training manual) literature, marriage plots, a nationalist consciousness expressed with various degrees of directness: many works rise above such simplifying labels, but that doesn't nullify how awfully useful they are for less than transcendent motivations. Orczy was a hardcore imperialist, militarist, and fan of the aristocracy (whatever the ideological jargon for that particular belief system is), so it was perfectly fine that she is credited with "introducing the concept of the hero with a secret identity into pop culture," as there is little worry that she is going to misbehave. That doesn't prevent the Scarlet Pimpernel's series of works, if my extrapolations from this work are correct, from being rich in queer possibilities, as well as less lovely considerations involving the comparison of anti-French Revolution propaganda to anti-Soviet propaganda (a transition Orczy made with ease) and the like. Still, a film adaptation of TSP put out today? I wouldn't mind that at all.
If one pampered rich boy hadn't willfully succumbed to the most nonsensical of heterosexual nonsense I've seen in literature in a long time, the book could have been wrapped up in a hundred pages or so, easy. As it stands, that was not the case, so it was a matter of twists and turns and the diabolical evils of people who aren't rich trying to govern themselves and the ineffable beauty of the people who are rich trying to rescue their beleaguered comrades in wealthy bloodlines. Why all this good will showed up after the French Revolution outlawed slavery, I'll never know, but in any case, it was off to the races with beauteous damsels, secret disguises, dastardly blackmails, and a dude who couldn't go to two steps without having his massive physique, stoic integrity, sultry eyes, etc, etc, etc complimented by the earnest narrator. Honestly, what engaged me most was not any particular component of the narrative itself, but how easily I managed to catch the two main sleights of hand that figured in the protagonist's clandestinely heroic efforts. I hardly make a habit of reading these sorts of works, but I suppose reading, and every so often trudging through, various types of complicated/experimental/ornately written works at such a pace as I have for the past several years has made it easier for me to take note of narratological linchpins, even when admittedly not putting in close to my average effort. Still, it did deprive the work of some of its thrills and other elements used to generate a feeling of shocked and/or impressed amazement, so when the adventure finally came to a close, it wasn't as exciting as I imagine the author hoped it to be. Ah well. So it goes.
A theory I've mulled over in a largely unspoken manner over the past few years is that women writers are sometimes allowed to exist in the annals of history (in far smaller proportion to their existences in history) if they are especially useful to various components of the social status quo. Children's (training manual) literature, marriage plots, a nationalist consciousness expressed with various degrees of directness: many works rise above such simplifying labels, but that doesn't nullify how awfully useful they are for less than transcendent motivations. Orczy was a hardcore imperialist, militarist, and fan of the aristocracy (whatever the ideological jargon for that particular belief system is), so it was perfectly fine that she is credited with "introducing the concept of the hero with a secret identity into pop culture," as there is little worry that she is going to misbehave. That doesn't prevent the Scarlet Pimpernel's series of works, if my extrapolations from this work are correct, from being rich in queer possibilities, as well as less lovely considerations involving the comparison of anti-French Revolution propaganda to anti-Soviet propaganda (a transition Orczy made with ease) and the like. Still, a film adaptation of TSP put out today? I wouldn't mind that at all.
Armand is a bit tiresome (or worse) in this one, but he does redeem himself. Percy and Marguerite are as delightful as ever, Chauvelin is scheming in rare form, and the League is suitably dashing. Knocked off a star for the over-flowery, melodramatic style (very of its time, I suppose).
The sequel to The Scarlet Pimpernel. Something I should have read in my preteens. It made me think back to a long time ago.
adventurous
medium-paced
The slowest book of these so far. And not for any added intrigue or appeal. There's still intrigue and it's worth the read if you liked the Scarlet Pimpernel, but El Dorado is longer for no obvious reason.
adventurous
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
This book could be either one or five stars, but it made me laugh so much that I went for a fiver here.
(Also, no anti-semitism OR racism here! Yay!)
Let's just say, this book is ridiculous. It shouldn't surprise anyone who has read the first book, which I enjoyed so much that a friend of mine gave me a copy of this baby. There's not much thinking involved here; the reader knows who is a villain, because Emmuska Orczy will tell you. And if they're bad, they're all bad, and possibly also have a hideous appearance.
Because that's another thing. She does this whole describing a character's personality through their looks, which was a thing back in the early 20th century for writers of romances and probably is now too, only I've been fortunate enough not to have read those. The women are usually just so silly, and don't worry their pretty heads (an actual quote) about other people's strife. They themselves keep saying that they're just women and what could they do to help (hint: nothing). Marguerite, the main babe, is being referred to as 'little mother' despite not being a mother. She's just so feminine.
All those things that would infuriate most, but luckily in here they can't - because it's all so stupid.
And the most wonderful thing: Scarlet Pimpernel himself, who is as grotesque as usual. He is so amazing, Emmuska Orczy doesn't bother explaining the details of his feats, since we wouldn't be able to reproduce them. Here is a small list of amazing things he does in this book, (avoiding the spoilers but I'm exempting the events that would happen in every book, let's be honest here):
* when tortured in a Salem-esque manner, he still bribes a man to be shaved each day because he can't bear not to look English enough,
* also after around 2 weeks of this torture, on the brink of death, he punches a man for insulting his wife and sends him sprawling,
* was once told by someone he doesn't know how to love in an argument, so he then brings it up in every conversation and every letter with this person,
* at the end of the book, still exhausted and recuperating from the near death experience, Emmuska Orczy can't resist mentioning he also shagged his wife really well.
I'm off, gotta go and watch that 1980s Scarlet Pimpernel movie with Ian McKellen as the villain Chauvelin, just look at this face:
EDIT: This was once played by an all-female cast in Japan *makes grabby hands*:
(Also, no anti-semitism OR racism here! Yay!)
Let's just say, this book is ridiculous. It shouldn't surprise anyone who has read the first book, which I enjoyed so much that a friend of mine gave me a copy of this baby. There's not much thinking involved here; the reader knows who is a villain, because Emmuska Orczy will tell you. And if they're bad, they're all bad, and possibly also have a hideous appearance.
Because that's another thing. She does this whole describing a character's personality through their looks, which was a thing back in the early 20th century for writers of romances and probably is now too, only I've been fortunate enough not to have read those. The women are usually just so silly, and don't worry their pretty heads (an actual quote) about other people's strife. They themselves keep saying that they're just women and what could they do to help (hint: nothing). Marguerite, the main babe, is being referred to as 'little mother' despite not being a mother. She's just so feminine.
All those things that would infuriate most, but luckily in here they can't - because it's all so stupid.
And the most wonderful thing: Scarlet Pimpernel himself, who is as grotesque as usual. He is so amazing, Emmuska Orczy doesn't bother explaining the details of his feats, since we wouldn't be able to reproduce them. Here is a small list of amazing things he does in this book, (avoiding the spoilers but I'm exempting the events that would happen in every book, let's be honest here):
* when tortured in a Salem-esque manner, he still bribes a man to be shaved each day because he can't bear not to look English enough,
* also after around 2 weeks of this torture, on the brink of death, he punches a man for insulting his wife and sends him sprawling,
* was once told by someone he doesn't know how to love in an argument, so he then brings it up in every conversation and every letter with this person,
* at the end of the book, still exhausted and recuperating from the near death experience, Emmuska Orczy can't resist mentioning he also shagged his wife really well.
I'm off, gotta go and watch that 1980s Scarlet Pimpernel movie with Ian McKellen as the villain Chauvelin, just look at this face:
EDIT: This was once played by an all-female cast in Japan *makes grabby hands*: