book review: A Most Peculiar Circumstance
A new feature! Note: I received a copy of this book for review from Bethany House Publishers.
First, the good: in Arabella, Turano gives us a heroine who is a strong woman of faith and an independent personality. Arabella fights for women’s rights to vote, to find safe and fulfilling employment, to be treated as partners and respected by their husbands, and to express themselves openly—and Turano presents these qualities as worthy attributes. For Turano women are, and should be, strong, independent agents. Turano adeptly presents capable female characters and enlightens her readers to the challenges such women would have faced in 1880s America. Agatha Watson, to give one example, is a talented New York journalist. To make use of her admirable skills and be taken seriously as a reporter, however, she is forced to write using a male pseudonym. Other women experience awakenings over the course of the book, realizing their capabilities, surmounting societal constraints upon gender expectations and defending themselves from the neglect of their husbands. Turano presents society women and prostitutes alike as women worthy of our regard. She emphasizes the dire straits faced by the latter, illuminating the serious constraints to basic survival as a poor woman outside the bounds of family in the 1800s. Men, too, find enlightenment, realizing they have taken for granted the notion that all women will find fulfillment only in marriage—and that they can treat them as property once they are successfully wed.
This long list of admirable qualities makes the deficiencies in this book even more frustrating. First, Turano fails to observe the requirement that historical fiction must inhabit a fully historical setting. Turano’s New York is a world of horse-drawn carriages and gas lamps—good—but it is also a world in which Arabella’s niece goes by the overwhelmingly ahistorical name of “Piper.” Such anachronisms are jarring to the reader, and they could so easily have been avoided. Second, while Turano strives to demonstrate in the character of Arabella that a woman can be strong, independent and feminine—a worthy goal—she relies upon trite stereotypes to accomplish this. Arabella speaks publicly for women’s rights and carries a pistol in her reticule, but she loves the color pink and enjoys reading romance novels. The latter qualities are meant to punch her ticket as a feminine woman. The reader—and Arabella—deserve more. Finally, and most importantly, Turano misses an opportunity to delve more deeply into questions of gender roles and Christian belief that continue to be important topics of debate. How did the church address notions of women’s roles in the late 1800s? How did questions of faith enter into the realm of the suffrage movement—or the treatment of “fallen women”? How might a spirited woman such as Arabella have responded to and/or engaged with the church? Turano does open the door to important introspection when Arabella questions her own potential to be judgmental. I would love to see Turano complement personal introspection with attention to the broader context of nineteenth century Christianity. Doing so would ground her characters more fully in time and space, as well as giving the reader important food for thought.
The first two of my three criticisms, in particular, may seem niggling, but it is precisely their niggling quality that makes them so objectionable. Christian historical romance fiction can be written astoundingly well. Lynn Austin’s “Refiner’s Fire” trilogy set during the Civil War serves as one excellent example. Turano could easily elevate the quality of her work by taking all elements of her history seriously and by taking the time to accomplish her goals without resorting to trite categorizations. I hope she continues to write stories about strong Christian women, because I love the message she has shared in A Most Peculiar Circumstance.
Jen Turano, A Most
Peculiar Circumstance (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 2013).
I’d
really like to give Jen Turano’s A Most
Peculiar Circumstance a wholly positive review. Turano tells us the story of Arabella Beckett, an
unconventional woman of 25 who travels throughout the country in support of
women’s suffrage. Asked by a
desperate mother to intercede in a suspected kidnap while traveling in
Illinois, Arabella finds herself jailed on accusation of assault—and mired in
the sordid web of a prostitution ring.
Arabella escapes prison thanks to the providential appearance of private
detective Theodore Wilder, who has been hired by her worried family to track
her down after she fails to inform them of her whereabouts during her latest
lecture tour. Back in New York,
Arabella is faced with pressure from her family to wed, irritated by the handsome
but chauvinistic Wilder, and drawn into a mystery involving the disappearance
of numerous local prostitutes that will land her in serious danger more than
once. The rest of the plot details
I’ll leave to the reader; following are my observations, good and bad,
regarding Turano’s book.
First, the good: in Arabella, Turano gives us a heroine who is a strong woman of faith and an independent personality. Arabella fights for women’s rights to vote, to find safe and fulfilling employment, to be treated as partners and respected by their husbands, and to express themselves openly—and Turano presents these qualities as worthy attributes. For Turano women are, and should be, strong, independent agents. Turano adeptly presents capable female characters and enlightens her readers to the challenges such women would have faced in 1880s America. Agatha Watson, to give one example, is a talented New York journalist. To make use of her admirable skills and be taken seriously as a reporter, however, she is forced to write using a male pseudonym. Other women experience awakenings over the course of the book, realizing their capabilities, surmounting societal constraints upon gender expectations and defending themselves from the neglect of their husbands. Turano presents society women and prostitutes alike as women worthy of our regard. She emphasizes the dire straits faced by the latter, illuminating the serious constraints to basic survival as a poor woman outside the bounds of family in the 1800s. Men, too, find enlightenment, realizing they have taken for granted the notion that all women will find fulfillment only in marriage—and that they can treat them as property once they are successfully wed.
This long list of admirable qualities makes the deficiencies in this book even more frustrating. First, Turano fails to observe the requirement that historical fiction must inhabit a fully historical setting. Turano’s New York is a world of horse-drawn carriages and gas lamps—good—but it is also a world in which Arabella’s niece goes by the overwhelmingly ahistorical name of “Piper.” Such anachronisms are jarring to the reader, and they could so easily have been avoided. Second, while Turano strives to demonstrate in the character of Arabella that a woman can be strong, independent and feminine—a worthy goal—she relies upon trite stereotypes to accomplish this. Arabella speaks publicly for women’s rights and carries a pistol in her reticule, but she loves the color pink and enjoys reading romance novels. The latter qualities are meant to punch her ticket as a feminine woman. The reader—and Arabella—deserve more. Finally, and most importantly, Turano misses an opportunity to delve more deeply into questions of gender roles and Christian belief that continue to be important topics of debate. How did the church address notions of women’s roles in the late 1800s? How did questions of faith enter into the realm of the suffrage movement—or the treatment of “fallen women”? How might a spirited woman such as Arabella have responded to and/or engaged with the church? Turano does open the door to important introspection when Arabella questions her own potential to be judgmental. I would love to see Turano complement personal introspection with attention to the broader context of nineteenth century Christianity. Doing so would ground her characters more fully in time and space, as well as giving the reader important food for thought.
The first two of my three criticisms, in particular, may seem niggling, but it is precisely their niggling quality that makes them so objectionable. Christian historical romance fiction can be written astoundingly well. Lynn Austin’s “Refiner’s Fire” trilogy set during the Civil War serves as one excellent example. Turano could easily elevate the quality of her work by taking all elements of her history seriously and by taking the time to accomplish her goals without resorting to trite categorizations. I hope she continues to write stories about strong Christian women, because I love the message she has shared in A Most Peculiar Circumstance.
Sending historical fiction to a real historian seems a bit foolish. :-) I've read the first of the Refiner's Fire series (it was free on nook), and I thought it was easily the best historical fiction I had read in a long time.
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