Sandra Schwab, Castle of the Wolf (Dorchester/Lovespell, 2007)
On first reading, I was disappointed with Sandra Schwab's Castle of the Wolf.
I say first reading, because I was so bothered by my disappointment, so unsatisfied with my lack of satisfaction, I had to read it again almost immediately afterward.
I can feel you rolling your eyes, and I would, too, if I were you. "Why?" you might ask yourself (or me, if we happened to be friends and discussing this over bitter beer or sweet coffee); "Why, when the stack of important, delectable, worthy books you haven't read would circle the globe three times, laid side by side and spine to spine? Why re-read a disappointment?"
"Because," I might tell you, signaling our barista for another round, "the elements which didn't disappoint were so clever, so rich, so evocative of time and place!"
The tale: our heroine, Miss Celia Fussell (we call her Cissy), mourns the recent passing of her genteel, scholarly, and nigh-impoverished father. The year is 1827, and Cissy, beautiful, over-educated, and penniless, finds herself at the mercy of an inexplicably vindictive, social-climbing sister-in-law, eager to claim the title of Lady Hailstone and oust Cissy from the family home ("Oh, that old trope!" you exclaim, and I put out a soothing hand and touch your sleeve). The will is read. To paraphrase: "I, Lord Hailstone, bequeath to my beloved only daughter my crumbling, gloomy castle in Germany -- which none of you knew I possessed! -- on the sole condition she marry the previous owner's son -- a complete stranger to you all! -- within four months! HA!"
(I lean back, sip my beer. Your brow is wrinkled. "Surely nothing so hackneyed as that!" you exclaim, but I nod.)
Cissy, certain she has no other option than to claim her inheritance, packs for Germany (here, a wonderful detail: she wraps each precious book in one of her dresses before placing it in the trunk, and just like that, we get to know her character). Upon her arrival to the Black Forest and the Castle Wolfenbach, she is met by a hall full of dour-faced servants, an irate and even violent Fenris von Wolfenbach (her peg-legged, nasty-tempered, unwitting betrothed), and a cobwebby, gargoyle-studded edifice: the Castle itself.
You -- erudite and well-read -- probably recognize a bit of Jane Eyre here -- and Sense and Sensibility and Bluebeard and Beauty and the Beast, and half-a-dozen Brothers Grimm stories and another half-dozen best-forgotten bodice-rippers (if you would admit to such a repertoire), and you'd be right. They're all here, along with so many others, I couldn't pretend to recognize them all (perhaps I should have started reading some of those -- many of them are in that globe-encircling stack).
A younger, handsomer man appears on the scene, and flatters Cissy with his attentions. The feelings he excites are in marked contrast to those inspired by the surly Lord ("A Darcy/Wickham kind of thing?" you ask. Well, he's an actual brother and not a mere brother-figure, but yes, almost exactly like a Darcy/Wickham kind of thing). But Cissy quickly discovers, as she says, that "all that glitters is not gold", and realizes her preference for the moody, one-legged, honorable man. The wedding takes place, the inheritance secured. Now, all she has to do is win her husband over, convince him to consummate their marriage and assure herself he's fallen as deeply in love with her as she has with him.
The lines between homage and parody and cliché are too thinly drawn here to salvage this plot. If you are a reader craving a solid, consistent story with original plot and no loose ends, this is not the book for you.
If you are a stickler for consistent period dialogue, this is most definitely not the book for you. Unless you can abide the combination of an almost painful lack of verbal contractions with liberally-sprinkled exclamations like "Holy cow!" and "Geez!" and "Heck!" stay away from this one.
However, if you want a rich, dark and sometimes bitter fairy tale, complete with a couple heavy-panting boudoir scenes and evocative descriptions of nineteenth-century Europe and antique architecture, you might find this a good read. For some of us -- in some of our moods -- character and prose and ambiance are more important in a novel than other elements. The characters here, even tertiary ones, are memorable and unique to themselves within the confines of the book. The narrative language is expressive and full-bodied, and if you want a real treat, you'll go listen to Schwab reading her own words in her soft and lilting, charmingly accented voice. You can find the podcast link on her Web site. Her voice is hypnotic and beautiful, and hearing her read her work helped the printed words come alive more gracefully in my mind as I read Castle of the Wolf the second time 'round.
