Regency lite, or Jane fix part II

It's not a secret that I've got a thing for Jane Austen's books (witness the links at right, or previous posts), but I haven't really gotten into reading any other Regency-era influenced social comedies. One name that kept popping up as a tolerable readalike author is Georgette Heyer, the historical novelist whose works usually end up in the romance section along with the ripped bodice covers of Christina Dodd, Kathleen Woodiwiss and the like. But since I've often mentioned Heyer's name when pressed for books like Austen's, I thought I might determine if her books leaned more towards the heaving bosoms of the romance novel, or if she captured the same battle of social customs as Austen.

Happily, Heyer gets the point behind Austen's novels: namely, her social satire. On the flip side, however, she has none of the subtlety that makes Austen's six novels so great. I randomly chose Cotillion from 1953, roughly from the middle of Heyer's writing career (she died in 1974). The elements of the story are fairly simple: a heroine of reduced circumstances stands to inherit a fortune from a querulous adopted grandfather--with the stipulation that she marry one of said grandfather's nephews in order to receive the money. The plucky heroine here is Kitty Charing, raised in general isolation by a governess overly fond of the romantic poets. Kitty is not in any mood to marry any of her potential suitors, except one: the rakish Jack. But when Jack doesn't show to claim Kitty's hand, she latches onto a plan: enter a sham betrothal with Freddy, the least objectionable of her choices, and get to London to work her charms on Jack. Once in London, a series of misunderstandings, pompous characters and secret engagements ensures that everyone gets exactly what they deserve.

There are scenes in ballrooms, social gaffes, clandestine meetings in shrubberies--basically everything that a Janeite would be familiar with. Heyer lampoons much of the musty social pretentiousness of the day (a Mr. Collins type would find many kindred spirits here). But here it all comes over very heavy handed. Part of this is due to the clumsy dialogue. The men use so much jargon are so preoccupied with their own preening, that it's hard to appreciate even the hero of the story. With the exception of Kitty, all the characters come across as very flat--and Kitty can't be called very deep either. The plot also takes awhile to get going, which makes the lack of well-drawn characters problematic at the beginning. I had to push to get through the first 50 pages.

Heyer has been praised for her attention to historical detail, and she does create a believeable world (Kitty and Freddy's reluctant tour of London? Classic). And I was grinning at various points throughout the story, as Heyer heightened the absurdity. By the end, I was enjoying myself, even if I had to skim over some of the more annoying bluster from some of the more unfortunate characters. Die-hard romantics might not be satisfied--there's no Darcy in a wet shirt moment or swoony letters from Wentworth. (In all honesty, the mental image I was getting of the hero was not so much Colin Firth but more Bertie Wooster). Would I recommend Heyer again? Yes, I think I would, in spite of the clunky dialogue. It's not quite on the same footing as Austen, but at least it's in the same orbit.