Not Jane Austen! There is no plot and really, it's just a soft-porn book; or seems like! And honestly, we can make a drinking game of how many times the author uses the same adjectives over and over again! I read it because my husband gave it to me, thinking that I would really like it. I honestly don't know how I managed to get through it, as it did not capture me, but that being said, it wasn't entirely horrid either. I think 1.5 stars would be more accurate. Ah well, more books to be read which I'll enjoy more! ( )

A sequel to the 2005 (very bad) Pride and Prejudice movie. The 1980 mini series starring Elizabeth Garvie and David Rintoul as Elizabeth and Darcy is my favourite.
There is too much sex and not enough plot or character development ( )

Perhaps I should cut-and-paste the opening lines from my Time After Time review. This was another case of not loving a book someone enthusiastically and sincerely and optimistically recommended as one I would love. Despite my protestations that I don't like romances - and that I mostly loved Pride and Prejudice for my imaginary best friend Lizzy and wasn't all that jazzed about Mr. Darcy - my friend insisted I would love this book. ...Sigh.

For a work fan-fiction, it's not too badly written. Lathan effectively sidesteps the he-said/she-said trap and mostly avoids purple prose despite venturing frequently into the Darcy's bedchamber. Unfortunately, a regency romance - and that's basically what this is - typically ends where this one begins; reading page after page of married bliss and mature mutual love really isn't all that interesting. Toss in a heavy dose of mad lust and you have a hot mess on your hands.

I confess, about halfway through I started skimming, only reading enough to know the bliss was interrupted by the obligatory misunderstanding, the appearance of the equally obligatory boor-with-unseemly-attentions, and the not-altogether-unexpected brush with death. Along the way we are treated to a delightful ball, detailed descriptions of the lovely Pemberley, and reminders of the deep enduring love - and serious case of the hots - between Darcy and Lizzy. Of course, Darcy rises to all occasions and they live happily ever after. The End.

All that aside, the real reason I disliked the book was Latham's characterization of Elizabeth. After a promising start with some reasonably charming daydreams and witty repartee, things falter with decisions and dialogue that doesn't ring true.

I was mostly willing to stick along for the ride until the whole thing went irrevocably off track when Elizabeth teased Darcy about being, "so cute." Sorry, but my friend Lizzy simply wouldn't say that.




( )

I have mixed feelings about this book. On one hand, the author does an excellent job giving her text and dialog a true 19th century sound. I like that in an historical romance, and not all authors even make the effort.

On the other hand though, the plot (and I use that term generously) is unbelievably dull and repetitive. Nothing much happens, unless you're interested in detailed descriptions of every room in Pemberly, the gardens at Pemberly, and a bunch of neighbors of Pemberly who appear to have put in just to populate the scene. I didn't count how many times Lizzy and Darcy have sex, but it's a lot. Not even abundant coupling, however, saves the book, as the sex is decidedly NOT hot. It's lukewarm at best, and accompanied by so much gooey love chatter, that this reader felt like a ten-year-old boy going "eeewww."

This author has written 8 other Darcy books, but perhaps she should have combined them into just two or three books instead. She has a talent, and I urge her to leave the Darcys alone now and use her imagination to write some original fiction. ( )

This title never appeared in the library's system, and I intended to read it in a bookstore sometime until I decided a root canal justified an indulgence. For all its reasonable cover, it is pretty much porn. The only thing there's more of than coitus is adverbs. I'm not as deadset against them as, say, Ernest Hemingway or E.B. White, but damn. So the prose was amusingly appalling. So was the story. Except there wasn't a story: no plot, no development, only telling and description, nothing but sex and expenditure.

Aha, a new Jane Austen title: Sex and Expenditure. It's not as good as Taxi and Taxidermy or Cunning and Cunnilingus, but it's pretty good.

I was sure Lathan was a fundy Christian before she declared herself one in the acknowledgments (placed at the end): Darcy's a virgin, his Anglican chapel is staffed by a devotee of John Wesley (who founded Methodism), and Elizabeth refers a possible pregnancy as a "blessing." Although Lathan details, with Jean Auel's thoroughness, the physical acts, and describes her characters as wantonly passionate and uninhibited, she avoids any oral-genital contact, and she calls the fucking "loving," as in, "they loved for hours." Yeah, and for the other 21 hours of the day they didn't love each other? Okay, the Darcys wouldn't use coarse language, but Lathan confuses her own religion with theirs.

It's all tell tell tell, and telling with redundancy, wordiness, misspelling, and bizarre, sloppy, and incorrect grammar. They tell each other they love each other, they fuck, and they buy each other stuff, but Lathan gives them no wit, nobility, devotion, or any other characteristic from their source. Instead she gives the reader morsels such as "Bingley nearly was required to physically restrain me"; "in the short time of their acquaintance"; "pausing momentarily"; "usual wont" (my especial favorite); "free reign"; information having "disseminated" (an intransitive verb since when?); "You are from Hertfordshire, I am taken to understand?"; and "[f:]or the subsequent five days, Lizzy slept interminably." Adverbs and redundancy: "Marguerite calmly turned toward her mistress, her face a study in serene indifference, intoning unemotionally ... (96)." Marguerite is "Madeline" once, but goes back to being a daisy before endangering her appendix.

The usual textual inaccuracies and anachronisms: "Darcy House" in London doesn't have the "flamboyant embellishments" Pemberley has. Darcy's father's name is James. Elizabeth calls Darcy "William." Darcy refers to Lady de Bourgh as "Aunt Catherine" (he does not address her). Darcy does address Georgianna as "Georgie." "Georgie" plays "'Ode to Joy' by Beethoven" at Christmas 1816.

Worst of all, the author wrote a sequel not to the novel but to the cinematization with Keira Knightley. She admits as much, and she refers to Elizabeth's visit to Pemberley and Darcy's second proposal as they happened in that film. In which case I wonder she didn't just film a porno instead of writing one.