Regency Romances

I’ve been reading Georgette Heyer. Needed cheering up after so long in lockdown. Partly prompted by this glowing tribute from Stephen Fry in this piece in The Guardian. I disagree with him about her early covers, which I think, like Georgette did, enchanting. But maybe he has a point, that they discourage male readers. He praises her assiduous research into the historical period about which she is writing and the fact she does not bring a nineteenth century sensibility to her Regency novels. As to whether they are original or not, he says: It is not complete originality that engages us, it is how the picture is executed. Treatment is all. And this is where Heyer stands at the very head of the field.

I’ve enjoyed my time in her company very much. As recounted here I’d already read These Old Shades and The Devil’s Cub a little while ago. But have now read them again as well as a biography and three more novels.

When I mention this later reading people are inclined to turn up their nose. Which annoys me. An article in the Guardian a while ago noted how things enjoyed by women – including literature – have always been disparaged by those who set cultural standards in our society. It’s ever been thus in the patriarchy. The same things happens with films – RomComs, music – Chickrock, even internet discourse – Mummybloggers. It’s the same with women’s crafts, and domestic skills. The list goes. Compare the treatment of romantic literature with other genres read by men like westerns or detective stories. Examples from both have been recognised as classics. Not so for the sorts of books written by Georgette Heyer which are dismissed as light entertainments and nothing more. Mention you’re reading her and people change the subject quickly! It’s their loss.

Virago, all those years ago, successfully retrieved some women authors who had been scandalously overlooked by the literary canon – Elizabeth Taylor, Barbara Pym, Muriel Sparks. But there are still many who remain out of print. Not so Georgette – her fifty five novels have all been best sellers and have never been out of print. Whether she’s acknowledged as a serious writer is a moot point.

She would have liked such recognition in her lifetime but was resigned to not receiving it from the literary set. It is ironic that a Heyer novel would never be considered for the Booker Prize for Fiction, established in in 1969 by her publishing firm at the time, Bodley Head, and in part made possible by her royalties.

She was famously opposed to providing any personal information to support the sale of her books; writing to her publishers in response to one such request: I will give no biographical details … I will not submit to any sickening sentimental rubbish … Nor will I have details of my private life broadcast, or used for the sorts of publicity I detest. … I live in Sussex, extremely quietly, have a rooted objection to personal publicity, & own two dogs & a cat. … I’ll be damned if I’ll supply material for the sorts of nauseating soul-throbs dear to the American public.

She generally refused interviews which may have been sensible given how an article in The Times published in October 1970 treated her work; expressing surprise that her books whose appeal to simple females of all ages is readily comprehensible had become something of a cult for many well-educated middle-aged women who read serious novels too. This at a time when a new Georgette Heyer was selling over 60,000 copies in the first month after release. The article prompted a storm of letters from her fans.

Just over a year after her death on 4 July 1974 A. S. Byatt wrote an outline of her life for the Sunday Times Magazine which was published on 5 October 1975 under the heading The Ferocious Reticence of Georgette Heyer. This acknowledged publicly for the first time the skill and artistry that went into these books; her books did not just come to her. They were worked for, and worked at. She was one of those rare writers who create an idiosyncratic world, recognisably their own, a world with its own laws and language. You can read the full article here.

Georgette Heyer: Biography of a Bestseller Jennifer Kloester

This 2011 biography from the Melbourne based author, Jennifer Kloester is the second; afterThe Private World of Georgette Heyer by Jane Aitken Hodge in 1984 which Kloester draws on extensively. It’s a chronological telling of the life which is a bit frustrating if you are interested in the books. Bits about writing and publishing them are interspersed with house moves, worries about finances and other domestic matters. Added to that, there seems to be more about her detective fiction and short stories than her most famous Regency novels.

It is however enlivened by extracts from Georgette’s letters. They are full of life; she uses lots of capital letters, has strong opinions, and makes lots of self-deprecatory remarks about herself and about her novels. She’s also candid in her descriptions of people, places and events. Born in 1902 into a middle class family living in London she described her schooling thus: I was educated at numerous high-class seminaries; I did not go to College, nor did I pass Matriculation or any other kind of examination. Her literary bent was inherited from my father.

Her grandfather was Russian and both her brothers had Russian names. She wasn’t inclined to see much Russian in herself, refusing to read Russian novels because of the difficult names, their appalling length and terrible obsession with fate. She finished up as English upper class as you can get.

She wrote her first book, The Black Moth, at seventeen, to amuse her younger brother Boris who was seriously ill. At her father’s suggestion she submitted it to a publisher and it was released in 1921, when she was nineteen. Between 1921 and her death in 1974 she wrote 55 novels and never had a failure. Apart from four books that she herself suppressed, all of her titles are still in print. The five novels suppressed are The Great Roxhythe (1922), Instead of the Thorn (1923), Helen (1928), Pastel (1929) and Barren Corn (1930). The last four are contemporary stories set in England in the 1920s. She also wanted Simon the Coldheart suppressed, but in 1977 her son allowed it to be republished as he considered her judgement had been too harsh.

She wrote historical novels based on real figures, books set in medieval times and books set around historical events. As well as detective stories – helped by her husband who did the plots, while she wrote the characters. But she’s most famous for her Regency historical fiction.

While she didn’t receive what she regarded as real recognition for her literary skills during her lifetime – despite very good reviews for many novels, Georgette’s novel The Grand Sophy was included in a list of ‘200 Best Novels in English since 1950’ chosen by Carmen Callil & Colm Tóibín in 1964.

Germaine Greer included a detailed commentary on Regency Buck in her seminal feminist work The Female Eunuch. I can only imagine it was as an example of the damaging romantic stereotypes by which young women are conditioned to accept the patriarchy – but I haven’t investigated. Georgette was also found in 2008 to be fourth in the list of the top twenty classic writers most frequently borrowed from UK libraries – a list that included Agatha Christie, Jane Austen and Daphne du Maurier.

So there’s plenty of evidence via readers that Georgette is a worthy writer. As noted in both the Fry and Byatt pieces linked above and in the biography she was a prodigious researcher into the period about which she wrote. And it is this detail that makes the books come alive. She had a library of some two thousand volumes and also studied contemporary magazines.

Thanks to which the sumptuous clothes on both women and men she describes are authentic – fabrics, colours, hats, hose and shoes. Not to mention hairdos – the size and shape of wigs, hair powdered or unpowdered. The manners of the period – bows and curtsies, giving a leg; the conduct of toilettes which could be a public affair.

The morés of the period; what is expected of respectable women and men, how the ton – high society – reacts to those who don’t follow the rules. Mens clubs, promenades along public paths. The different sorts of vehicles and who was expected to drive which sort are explained. Distinctions between classes and between rural and city society adroitly revealed. Sly references to contemporary events – a war on the continent, a royal peccadillo, a political scandal. It’s all there in these books.

It’s been said they are all the same. Not true. To be sure the cast of characters is familiar so that opening the book is encountering old friends. The plucky Heroine and her careless Guardian, the misunderstood Hero, one or more loyal Retainers on hand during a crisis, a few Bystanders – family members, friends, acquaintances, neighbours – to complicate matters or to inject some humour into the piece – a Villain – male or female, overt or covert. But the intricate plots are all different and give the author scope to concentrate on different aspects of the society that her characters are living in.

Landscapes and houses also richly observed. All within a complex social milieu. These novels could just as easily be described as comedies of manners. All acutely observed. And very similar to Jane Austin. I felt the plot of The Grand Sophy had similarities to that of Emma, and although I can’t remember it, Kloester says, The Foundling also has elements that are similar to that Austin novel.

As Georgette herself described the ingredients of a story she was developing (somewhat changed from this description it would become Devil’s Cub): the hero is to be a Bad Man (but Terribly Handsome and Attractive of course) & he’s to be a Famous shot. One of those impossible people who shoot as well Drunk as Sober. There will of course be an Abduction, a villain (neither handsome nor Attractive), a cross-country Chase, hair-breadth escapes, etc.

Another singular ingredient is the complexity of her endings where she manages to inveigle all of her major characters into a single place and have various imbroglios unravelled.

She always started with her characters and once they were in her head she wrote the stories very quickly; sadly feeling under pressure to do so for financial reasons. Amazingly nearly always her first draft was published unaltered. She complained that early editors at her publisher, Heinemann, didn’t even read her manuscripts before publication.

It’s claimed that she knew all of Shakespeare’s plays by heart and the titles of many of her books are taken from them and other poems.

The word most often used to describe her was formidable – even the Queen described her thus. She was conservative – despite having voted Labour in the 1945 election – and opposed to much of her contemporary society, inveigling against the evils of the welfare state.

The Black Moth (1921)

This is such a beaten up old copy. Mum has put her name in it, but not the date she acquired it. Halfway through I felt vaguely that I’d read it before, which I think is correct, but for most of it I felt the story was new. It’s amazing to think she was seventeen when she wrote it. Although it’s not as sophisticated as later novels. We meet our hero as a highwayman – although with a higher set of principles than your average robber; a latter-day Robin Hood. Which stretches credulity a tiny bit.

When not robbing people on the highways and byways our hero is Sir Anthony Ferndale, who likes to polish his nails and dress himself in silks and satins, ensuring the jewels in his cravat are pinned just so. His loyal sidekick Jim wonders at the contrast in the two aspects of the master her serves. We meet his brother, Richard Carstares and sister-in-law Lady Lavinia – both of whom have played their part in creating our hero’s present circumstances. Lady Lavinia’s brother, Tracy, the Duke of Andover wears his black hair unpowdered, and affects black garments, hence the moniker The Black Moth. A suitably sinister villain.

Our heroine is the innocent, unworldly Diana, who is treated to a visit to Bath by her Aunt Betty. Where she makes the acquaintance of a Mr Everard – a black moth amongst the gaily-hued butterflies. She finds him too intense and withdraws. He is smitten and intent on making the heroine his bride. Being a villain, he favours abduction over traditional courtship. An accurate rendering of the times. I’ve just read in the TLS that it’s estimated that some 20 percent of weddings in the first half of the eighteenth century were “clandestine”, where a blind eye was turned to kidnapping, coercion and bigamy. The “best man” was originally one who helped to steal he bride.

Back at the home of her aunt and uncle Diana is left to her own devices. Uncle is a bibliophile – more interested in his books than attending to his niece despite sensible Aunt Betty. It’s not really a spoiler to say that our highwayman puts a spoke in the villain’s plans. It’s the journey not the destination that counts. Along the way old wrongs are righted, consciences come clean and true love emerges in unexpected places. There the cross-country chase referred to above. Silly as it seems my heart was racing as fast as our hero’s horse over the course of it. There’s something about the way she paces her novels, and how she brings characters in and out of the story, that makes them engrossing.

You really feel that you know these characters and care for the good ones and hate the bad ones. In this age of auto-fiction with its bloodless characters and plotless stories I find it interesting to see how its done. I’ve decided it’s the slow accretion of detail and the choice of personal details that are disclosed that makes the difference. Whatever the mechanics, the result, in Georgette Heyer novels, is always true.

Georgette was upset when Heinemann scheduled this novel to be reprinted in 1951: I thought we were agreed that , with the exception of SHADES … everything prior to MASQUERADERS should be allowed to sink into decent oblivion. CORINTHIAN yes. The other three, ten thousand times, NO! The three were Black Moth along with Simon the Coldheart and The Great Roxhythe which she described as lethal and immature works and as childish and utterly frightful books. She claimed that if they were republished it will embitter my life!

As Kloester notes: While naturally not as mature as her later work, there is nothing in them of which to be ashamed and many readers enjoyed them.

And they still love The Black Moth, as I was reminded scrolling through Instagram this week, and seeing this post.

Georgette wouldn’t appreciate the reference to Barbara Cartland. Kloester recalls Georgette being alerted in 1950 to plagiarism in Cartland’s first three books. Which was confirmed for Georgette upon reading them. Solicitors were approached. Georgette felt The Knave of Hearts was basically a retelling of These Old Shades and in addition to not understanding Regency dialogue or fashion, her imitator’s worst fault was a certain salacity which I find revolting, no sense of period, not a vestige of wit, and no ability to make a character live … I think I could have borne it better had Miss Cartland not been so common-minded, so salacious and so illiterate…. the whole thing makes me feel more than a little unwell. While no court case ensued, in 1971 the Cartland book was re-issued under a new title, The Innocent Heiress accompanied by an acknowledgement: In the Tradition of Georgette Heyer.

These Old Shades (1926)

This is a precursor to the book that follows and reading it first adds to the enjoyment of the latter novel. As noted Stephen Fry doesn’t like these covers but I do. In 1954 with the publication of The Toll-Gate, a new artist, Arthur Barbosa, was engaged by Heinemann and he went on to design her book jackets for the next fifteen years. Georgette was delighted with them. I think these are the ones on Mum’s books – although they are not credited to anyone. Georgette was vehemently opposed to anything sexual on her covers saying it was unfair to both author and reader to give rise to expectations that would not be delivered. She did not write bodice rippers thank you very much. These suited her perfectly.

The title for this book comes from a poem by Austin Dobson: Epilogue to Eighteenth-Century Vignettes; This Age I grant (and grant with pride), / Is varied, rich, eventful: / But if you touch its weaker side, / Deplorably resentful: …… Whereas with these old shades of mine, / Their ways and dress delight me; / And should I trip by work or line, / They cannot well indict me….

It seems, from comments she subsequently made about it, quoted throughout the biography, she was ambivalent about this, her first big success. Her son is quoted as telling his teacher who expressed admiration for the novel; Mummy says she could have written it better. And I suspect had it not remained so popular she may have suppressed it along with her other early work.

Kloester attributes it’s success to the novel’s female protagonist who was not simply a passive victim of adversity but an active, energetic force, determining her own destiny. This is Léonie who is never cowed or broken down by the events that beset her. … she remains feisty, courageous and endearing.

She is one of Georgette’s cross dressing characters – females dressed as males were relieved of society’s strictures. Here our heroine is rescued from a life of poverty by His Grace of Avon, nicknamed Satanas – the Devil. A man gambler and womaniser. We discover early on that the good Duke is intent on revenging himself on another nobleman – the Compte Saint-Vire – for preventing his marriage to the Compte’s sister. In a Wagnerite touch the St Vire’s line all have red hair – which is a clue!

So the Duke gets a little boy page – it’s not really a spoiler because any reader will recognise the truth fairly soon – who is really a little girl. And if you take notice of the hair, you’ll work out family connections. The issue is what is to be done? The Duke has a sister to provide humour, a good best friend who understands the Duke’s real nature and the page-boy/girl has a protector on hand. The scene is set. Now to the dénouement.

This novel revels in describing the manners and morés of high society. And through our little page the different treatment of girls and boys. Léonie has to be taught how to be a girl, and grumbles at the restrictions placed on her both by people and by the clothes she is expected to wear. She’s a great character.

Once again old wrongs are righted and revenge is had. He’s a hard man is our Duke, regardless of what his mate Hugh Davenant says. Although, of course, he’s going to surprise everybody by changing his wicked ways.

Devil’s Cub (1932)

This was always my favourite of Georgette’s novels. I’ve always thought it had a The in the title, but not so. I remembered it almost from the opening page. Of course the Devil of the title, is His Grace of Avon from These Old Shades and we get some more of Léonie here, so you really should read the one before the other. Vidal, the Cub of the title, is their son. He plays dual roles – that of Hero and Villain.

Very much in villain mode at the start of the book; he shoots a highwayman come to rob him in the opening pages and is unrepentant. He’s quite prepared to face the consequences but his father, furious that the son has upset his mother, demands that he leave England. The cub, whilst a rake, loves his mother, and honours his father – that’s the hero side coming out – so accedes to the request / order.

Seeking consolation in exile he arranges a tryst with Miss Sophia Challoner. A golden haired beauty but as silly as can be. She imagines this dashing noble, enamoured of her beauty will marry her. An illusion in which her just as silly mother, is happy to believe. Not so her sensible sister Mary; not as pretty but with something of a patrician air inherited from her father. He was of noble lineage, disinherited when he married beneath him. No guesses for who will be the heroine.

Mary, concerned for her sister’s reputation, manages to substitute herself in the carriage sent to take Sophia across to France. The expulsion she expected when her ruse is discovered does not eventuate. Instead she is forcibly carried onto the boat – where sea sickness interrupts the expected seduction scene.

She’s a wonderful heroine; and when our hero compares her to his mother you know her fate is sealed. But there’s much to be got through before that happens. Which I stopped writing this blog to re-read.

There’s a great deal of humour, mostly supplied by Léonie and the brother in law she induces to follow her to France to save her son. Eventually a whole cast of characters assembles in that country; all with quite different interests and hopes. There’s another chase with the Cub in hot pursuit of Mary. Finally the Devil himself puts in an appearance.

Each of the disparate incidents are so adroitly handled all the ensuing hijinks come across as quite plausible. If you are to read one Georgette Heyer this is the one – but it’s enhanced by reading These Old Shades first.

Georgette was interrupted in the writing of it by the birth of her son. But it was successful from the the minute it was published. It would seem that she was under pressure, due to the popularity of These Old Shades to write a sequel though it took her six years to do so. Heinemann’s lack of acknowledgement that the two books were linked was one of many complaints about their treatment of her. She later acknowledged that writing this book she hit on a manner that suited me, & which the public seemed to like. Indeed they still do.

The Grand Sophy (1950)

This is the Georgette Heyer book Included in 200 Best Novels in English since 1950 chosen by Carmen Callil & Colm Toibin in 1964. I hadn’t read it before, but having now done so, agree it deserves to be on that list. It brings to mind Jane Austen’s Emma.

You suspect from the outset that Sophy will not be the good little thing her father Sir Horace promises when he lands unexpectedly at his sister’s and asks – rather bullies – her into taking Sophie in while he goes abroad. Indeed he goes further and expects Lady Ombersley to marry her off. Sophie has lived with her diplomat father on the continent ever since her mother died. She has not had a traditional upbringing to say the least. So we don’t believe Sir Horace when he says she won’t cause you any trouble.

What we don’t know at the outset is what sort of disruption she will bring to the Ombersley household. Nor are we at this stage knowledgeable enough to recognise the truth of his comment she’s never at a loss for something to occupy herself with.

First we hear about the unusual circumstances of the Ombersley family – a feckless father has left them in dire financial straits so the expected inheritance from a rich relative has gone to the responsible oldest son, Charles Rivenhall who now rules the roost. Much to the chagrin of his younger siblings.

Lady Ombersley, illustrating her lively, irrepressible but decidedly weak personality, discloses all this to her brother along with the information that Charles is engaged to a blue-stocking and does not to care for very lively girls. Thus the stage is quickly and efficiently set.

The detailed description of Charles that follows confirms he’s our hero. He wears riding dress instead of pantaloons, ties his cravat plainly, disdains fopperies such as seals, fobs and quizzing glasses, and, shock horror, has his coats cut so he can shrug himself into them without a valet!

We have a lady villain in this one; beautifully drawn; the aforesaid blue-stocking, Miss Wraxton. She’s despicable. Charles likes her air of grave reflection. But we know beneath her simpering appearance she’s a viper intent on causing dissension ‘mongst the family and distress to all.

Sophie when she arrives is not what I expected. She’s not arrogant or haughty, nor is she discomposed at being thrust upon her unworldly relatives. She’s charming to all, polite and engaging, interested in everything about everybody. Soon everyone loves her for her charming ways. Except, of course, Charles, and Miss Wraxton.

The oldest Ombersley daughter, Cecilia provides a secondary love story. Despite having been half promised to a Lord Charlbury, handsome and wealthy, a desirable beau, who has unfortunately come down with the mumps, she’s fallen in love with Augustus Fawnhope. Georgette had great fun with names. He’s a poet fancying himself in the Byronic mode – and the source of much humour over the course of the story.

As her father said, Sophie is able to occupy herself very well. She’s also extremely astute – lots of emotional intelligence as we would call it. She recognises, where others don’t, the pall of unhappiness that hangs over this family. And she’s happy to take the trouble to investigate, slowly, charmingly, what is amiss with each and every one of them. As she explains to a couple of characters, why should she not make herself useful and intervene to make people happy. And so she sets her mind to leading people to their true desires – even when they themselves don’t understand what those true desires are. Sophie is much better at identifying problems and working out solutions than Austin’s Emma!

There is a suggestion in the biography that Georgette had Jewish ancestry; through her Russian family tree. If so, it didn’t stop her from including an anti-semitic character, along the lines of Shakespeare’s Fagan in this novel. He’s a very unsavoury money lender named Goldhanger of whom who our heroine has to extract some family heirlooms. A small vignette but unpleasant in this day and age.

As always everybody comes together at the end – this time in a dilapidated mansion. There are shades of Noel Coward in the finale with characters arriving and leaving on cue and going in and out of rooms as though in an onstage farce. A very satisfying conclusion.

Always self deprecating, Georgette said on handing this over to her publishers, it did not perhaps stink as much as at one time I feared it might.

It certainly didn’t with the general public. Heinemann thought it the best Heyer for a long time. A review in the Chicago Sunday Times noted: It is no small feat to make Regency London come to life, and to make its characters speak and act as did the people of that time and place, without too much quaintness of strangeness of manner.

It was an instant best seller, selling 40,000 copies in its first five months in Australia, and 400 to 800 copies a day in London. The author, far from being gratified by this success was appalled at the impact on her finances. She was always in trouble with the tax office; in part because of the very high taxation regime in England under the Wilson Government and also due to very poor financial advice as well as her living a lifestyle above her means. In any event, told about the success of The Grand Sophie she wailed This spells RUIN!

Venetia 1958

No cover on this one, but I like the GH imprinted in the corner. This is the book for which Stephen Fry wrote the piece that is linked above. I hadn’t read it before. It’s described in the biography as one of her finest novels. A quiet book with a great deal of subtle humour. Georgette described it as not quite like Me. She worried it would be too simple Except that my hero is a Rake, which always gets my silly sex.

I have a cousin named Venetia and wonder if she was named after this novel? Venetia, of course, is the heroine. She’s been brought up in country Yorkshire in the family manor Undershaw; with only her father and brothers for company after her mother has died. She has only once been disconsolate about her lot – when her father refused to let her go to his sister in London to come out in Society.

She’s accustomed to this life even as it has continued after her father’s death – which occurred within a month of the glorious victory of Waterloo. In this novel we get snippets of historical events thrown in. It’s now three years later. Older brother, Conway is away with the occupying army in France and she’s been given legal responsibility both for the estate and for her younger brother, Aubrey.

The return of Conway is a source of much speculation throughout the novel. He’s a careless correspondent and they have no idea what he is up to – which, as it turns out is quite a lot, with disastrous consequences for Venetia and Aubrey.

Aubrey is a lovely character. Born with a deformed hip, he limps and is treated by insensitive characters – obviously villains – as a cripple. But his is a life of the mind. He is precociously talented, his head in the classics, in advance of going to Eton.

Two suitors are vying for Venetia’s hand; boring Edward and foolish Oswald – another Georgette character who fancies himself in the Byronic mould. Both provide much humour in the story going forward – especially Oswald. You just want to hit Edward over the head! Venetia, sensibly is interested in neither; though aware of her very limited options should she decline the eminently suitable, in terms of respectability and income, Edward. Keeping house for Aubrey seems to be her most likely outcome as an unmarried woman in this society.

The happy conviviality of this rustic community is jolted by a visit from the owner of the neigbouring estate, the Priory – Georgette’s Rake. The behaviour of the owner, Lord Damerel, has provided gossip for people in the community for years. In his youth he absconded with a married lady – around the time of the short-lived Peace of Amiens – causing the death from shame of his father. He’s since returned but without the lady. But his debauchery continues – gaming, drinking, consorting with prostitutes. Not a respectable suitor at all. Hence our hero.

Venetia in her happy go lucky, unchaperoned, country way is destined to meet the Lord while out picking blackberries. He mistakes her for a common country wench and has no hesitation in handling her freely. Her dog comes to her rescue. Discovering she’s a lady he desists from further unwanted attention but is smitten by her feisty, unaffected personality.

Circumstances throw them together and love blossoms. It looks as though this will be a romance without complications. But of course that cannot be. Conway doesn’t appear, but without advance warning sends others in his stead. We have another of Georgette’s female villains in the despicable Mrs Scorrier.

Finally the adults around her decide to intervene in Venetia’s life. Resulting in one of a heartfelt lovers farewell. Our rake behaves handsomely although Venetia doesn’t think so. She is whisked off to London and into society. She’s another great female character from Georgette. Independent and resourceful.

She fits in happily it seems into her Aunt’s social rounds – balls, parties, concerts, theatre. But all the while she’s making plans for a different sort of life. Then she makes a remarkable discovery – but one an attentive reader may have guessed. This leads to some awe-inspiring planning including a little blackmail, wherein our plucky heroine is able to turn society’s conventions to her own advantage.

According to the biography Georgette only wrote it because of her financial difficulties with the tax office. Lucky for us she had those difficulties!

Conclusion

So there you have it. I thoroughly recommend Georgette Heyer’s novels – all those millions of readers can’t be wrong. There is much more to them than is credited. A whole period is dissected. Read attentively the descriptions and you will know as much about Regency England as you need to know. What an extraordinary period that was.

Enjoy the humour, which is often laugh out loud funny. Pompous characters are pricked. Conventions ridiculed. Pretensions mocked. The same personality types exist in all societies including ours.

As for the romances, Georgette herself explained their appeal in an essay about Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre: Mr Rochester was the first, and the Nonpareil, of his type. He is the rugged and dominant male, who yet can be handled by quite ordinary a female: as it might be, oneself! He is rude, overbearing, and often a bounder; but these blemishes, however repulsive they may be in real life, can be made in the hands of a skilled novelist extremely attractive to women. Charlotte Brontë, immensely skilled, knew just where to draw the line.

And so might I say, does Georgette Heyer in her funny, observant, exciting novels. There is now a whole world on the internet devoted to her, including this site anchored by the author of the biography All Things Georgette, and this one by the International Heyer Society Incredible.

The next ones I’m going to read – not in the foreseeable future but I’m sure I’ll come back to them – are The Foundling (Austinesque), Friday’s Child (that she considered her best), The Black Sheep (to test whether Georgette really could create a New Model Heyer-Hero as she claimed – who incidentally makes his fortune in Australia) and Sylvester (which I can’t remember anything about except that I liked it).