Earlier this week, I was lucky enough to start reading Amanda McCabe‘s new book, A Notorious Woman, which is released in August 1 (pre-ordering is easy! Click here!)

Both the hero and heroine have Big Secrets; I am dying to know what they are, but I am content to wait until Amanda sees fit to tell me; see, I like Big Secrets. It draws out the drama and suspense a little more.

One of my critique partners, the Wise Writing Friend, dislikes them, and chides me when I try to do one–maybe I’m doing them clumsily, but I get the feeling she plain doesn’t like them. There are some people who think the author is trying to trick them, or maybe they think it’s lazy writing.

In thinking about books with Big Secrets, I recall Tracy Grant‘s Secrets of A Lady, which has a whopper of a secret (and whose book is released July 31! Interviewed here on Sunday!), Mary Doria Russell‘s The Sparrow, the Harry Potter series (um . . . what are you doing tonight at 12:01am?), and Charles Willeford‘s Cockfighter.

What examples can you think of? Do you like the use of the Big Secret?

Megan
*The Romantics, “Talking In Your Sleep.” HA! Gave you an earworm again, didn’t I?

Oh, shoot, not only do I have NOTHING today, but I also have had a smidge-y bit of panic attack today, rendering me even more incoherent.

Of course I wonder what would’ve happened to our Regency woman who had that kind of day–she wasn’t supposed to ever be out of sorts, so what do you think she did when she felt rotten?

-Claim it was her womanly time, only she probably just had to nod her head and blink significantly, and everyone would understand. And scurry away, as if it were catching.

-Claim she had loads of letters to write to her bestest girlfriend (who just happens to be the daughter of a Marquis or something), so she’d be holed up in her room all day.

-Insist she had to finish some Very Important needlework.

-Tear her gown, then retire to her room until it was repaired.

-Encourage the men of the house to go out hunting.

-Attend to her dropsical aunt, maybe putting some cotton into her ears to avoid hearing too much.

What can you suggest our antisocial heroine could do?

Megan

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(Thanks to Pemberley.com for the Cruikshank picture!)

Last week, while picking up my reserved copy of The Last King of Scotland (which was awesome, although I kept exclaiming “Mr. Tumnus!” when James McAvoy was doing some chick against a wall), I saw this book:

City of Laughter: Sex And Satire In Eighteenth-Century London by Vic Gatrell.

So, of course, I borrowed that, too. It is really, really fun, detailing the thriving love of mockery Londoners had for their own lives, and the lives of their betters. It goes from 1770-1830, so it’s got examples of many, many lampoons showing the Prince/Prince Regent, life in St. Giles paralleled with life in St. James, and acerbic comments on just how much importance people attached to themselves. Gatrell’s writing style is conversational and witty, with loads of scholarly research. There are tons of examples of satirical prints, some of which would be shocking now, especially when applied to our leaders.

I’ve barely made it past the introduction, but I’ve looked at all the prints, and they are worth the weight of the book alone (since I only borrowed it, I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s worth the cost, because that would be hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it, since I plan on returning it when its borrow time is up).

What is most fun and helpful about it is giving the flavor of life back then, like a particularly adept film, or a well-researched, well-written Regency. Do you like political and social satire? Who is your favorite? (Mine is Jon Stewart and Lewis Black. Yeah, I get two. I’m writing this). Have you seen this book yet, and what do you think about it?

Megan

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