I liked Venetia and Damerel and Heyer's usual cast of the good, the bad and the ugly, particularly the awesomely awful Mrs Scorrier and the unbelievably obtuse Edward. The final plot twist seemed ludicrous, but delivered Lambton to the page and so can be forgiven for being incredible.

In this book, though, that double standard that is never discussed in Heyer's other books, or is brushed past or blinked at, is really discussed and it can't be blinked away. Boys will be boys: women have to wear it. I suppose I'll have to stop reading Heyer's for a bit. Good thing I've run out of my borrowed pile.

I like this one. It’s wickedly funny in places and very sweet in others. While I can say that in general I have problems with the rake motif, in this particular instance I felt like the personalities worked. Anyway, it makes me happy. [Oct. 2009]

Of all of Heyer's books I've read so far, this was the one I had the most trouble with. Which is to say, by the end, I loved it and loved Venetia and Damerel's banter and relationship (That whole orgy banter! Be still my heart!) but as I was reading, it felt long in places. I had a harder time getting into it than with some of Heyer's other novels: it was a bit too much inside of Venetia's head somehow, and too traditionally 'Romance', especially in the beginning. But I still loved all the characters by the end, and was sad to get to the last page. (Especially Aurelia. Such an authentic voice there, I actually heard her voice very distinctly in my head.)

I started reading Georgette Heyer when I was a teenager, some thirty five years ago, when my mother gave me Friday's Child and told me she thought I would enjoy it. Since then I have read all the romances, a number of them countless times. They have long been the books I turn to when I'm feeling unwell, a bit fragile, or when it's cold and wet and I need a comfort read!

Just recently I have started listening to audiobook versions of Heyer novels. I did not think that I would enjoy listening to book readings, but I have been acquiring audiobooks to give to my mother, who has lost her sight and have greatly enjoyed listening to them myself. This brings me to Venetia. I still have my first copy of Venetia, a 1971 paperback edition, now showing signs of multiple re-reads. I am currently listening to the unabridged audiobook read by Sian Phillips. (There is an abridged version available and as much as I appreciate the narrator, Richard Armitage, I am sure I would get annoyed listening to an abridged version of such a well-loved book.)

I realized this afternoon, as I listened, that I always feel tears come to my eyes at exactly the same place in the narrative. Feeling weepy is not my usual reaction to reading Heyer. Indeed, off the top of my head, I think that the only other one of her books to have that effect on me is Sylvester, in which a scene towards the end of the book never fails to bring a lump to my throat. Venetia may not be great literature, but in my view it has quiet emotional power, great sweetness and an engaging narrative. It is a book that I have probably read upwards of a dozen times over the years. I am sure that I will read it (or listen to it) many more times in years to come. Venetia is one of Heyer's most likeable heroines and Damerel is one of her most attractive heroes. The minor characters are interesting and even Flurry the dog is beautifully realized! Venetia is definitely on my Top Five Heyer list. Today it's my absolute favourite, but I suspect that's only because it's the one that's engaging me right now!

Update: 5 October 2011. I have just finished a re-read of this novel, as a buddy read with my friend Jemidar. This time I read it on kindle, to save my 1971 paperback edition from further wear and tear. It remains as special to me as ever, my pavlovian response of tearing up in the middle of chapter 15 quite unchanged.

"I know! She was the delightful creature who cut up her brother, and cast the pieces in her papa’s way, wasn’t she? I daresay perfectly amiable when one came to know her."—Venetia on Medea.Venetia is about soul mates. Two people who, despite completely dissimilar life experiences, recognize in each other a mind that works the same way, a shared appreciation of the absurd, a fundamental decency toward others, and to some extent, a disregard for convention. The eponymous heroine is not quite so willing to flout convention as her new friend Lord Damerel, who has a reputation as a rake, but as she comes to know him, she becomes more willing.Venetia is a victim (though not a bitter one) of the selfish behavior of others. Owing to her father’s obstinate reclusiveness after the loss of her mother when Venetia was young, she has hardly gone out in society, except among her sparse neighbors near her Yorkshire home. Her father’s death a few years earlier, rather than setting her free, left her in a situation that is in some ways worse. She manages the estate for her army officer brother, whom everyone expects home at any moment (since the defeat of Napoleon three years before) but who hasn’t shown any remote interest in taking up his inheritance and merely writes that he is sure Venetia knows best what to do. Her younger brother, who is preparing for Cambridge, is a brilliant scholar with a deformed hip that causes him to retreat into the world of books as much as their father ever did—but they at least hold each other in affection.Venetia makes the best of things. She suffers no illusions about the selfishness of the men who control her life, but she does not bear grudges. She remains amiable and cheerful, taking people at face value; and her naïveté is natural, without guile, while not preventing her from knowing her own mind or seeing people clearly. She resists the efforts of anyone to manage her life, beyond what she perceives as her duty to people she acknowledges have a right to control her. These include her father and brothers, possibly one uncle, and no one else. If she has a failing it is her inability to force those about her to take her seriously. It is not so much that she cannot stand up for herself as it is her unwillingness to force an issue when she knows it will lead to conflict and hurt. It is all the more remarkable because no one in her entire life has ever provided her with a model of self-immolation: indeed, the members of her family are almost without exception egoists who care only for their own comforts. But it is not in Venetia’s nature to repine or to hold their faults against them. Even when she acknowledges that there was no love lost between herself and her father, she is not resentful.So when Lord Damerel rides into her life, and they discover an affinity of minds that neither has ever experienced before, she is grateful to have found a kindred spirit. "I always wished for a friend to laugh with," she says to him. For Austen fans, it isn’t difficult to find familiar character archetypes, though of course they are well developed, as Heyer’s characters always are.Edward Yardley, Venetia’s worthy suitor, is similar to Mr. Collins in both his capacity for self-delusion and his supreme confidence in his own qualities even in the face of a firm refusal. Instead of acknowledging his object’s capacity to think for herself, he attributes her refusals to his proposals to various excuses that comport with his rigid notions of propriety and mistaken view of her character. He also represents the option of the loveless but comfortable marriage that will give a gentlewoman her own home. Venetia seriously considers marrying him, but knows how unfulfilling she would find life as his wife.Lady Denny, a neighboring matron, fills a similar niche to Lady Russell, though Venetia has never allowed her judgment on an important matter to supersede her own. But she has Venetia’s interests at heart and tries to take care of her protégée, and Venetia generally values her counsel and her society. There are others, of course, but no space to delineate them all. And the plot itself, beyond this introductory set-up, deserves no spoilers. Suffice to say that it is highly satisfactory to see everything work out in the end. Indeed, for many Heyer fans, the final scene is their favorite from her entire œuvre. One final and remarkable aspect of Venetia is the sprinkling of quotations throughout the novel. Lovers of the Elizabethan poets will find their favorites, as well as references to classical mythology, and, perhaps most entertainingly, choice biblical bits from Venetia’s old nurse when she is strongly moved.Note: I wrote this review for Austenprose, where it was published on 29 May 2011.

This is the first Georgette Heyer novel that I've either read or listened to, although she has been recommended to me many times. I listened to an audio version, masterfully narrated by Richard Armitage; my only regret is that it was an abridged version. Overall, it was a nice bit of fluff, perfect for listening to while on a long drive. Generally, I don't care much for romances, but this was more like a witty Jane Austen romance instead of either gushy drivel or a bodice-ripper. Venetia is a sheltered young woman, shut away in a country home by her father after her mother's death. She (and everyone else) fears that she will end up a spinster as she has reached the ripe old age of 25 and is still not engaged; she has two suitors, but neither appeals to her independent spirit. But then the handsome local rake, Lord Damerel steps into her life . . . As I said, there were a lot of elements that reminded me of an Austen novel: Venetia's care for her lame younger brother; the arrival of her elder brother's pregnant wife and her mother, who plan to take over the estate; Venetia's witty exchanges with Damerel and her brother Aubrey; the bumbling suitors. The novel has many twists and turns as well--it's not written according to a formula, as are so many novels of this genre. It's not great literature, but its a good, fun read.

Sigh of happiness and content. But I would like to know whether Conway threw Mrs Scorrier out of his house and whether he stayed married to that drip.

Twenty-five year old Venetia Lanyon has seen little of society beyond her family's country estate. Since her reclusive father's death, she has run the estate for her younger brothers - the inheritor is overseas in the army, and the youngest at home, studying for Cambridge. While she has two suitors within her limited acquaintance, one is presumptuous and boring, the other too young and melodramatic; she treats them politely but doesn't take seriously.Venetia herself is one of the reasons I liked Venetia so much - she's spirited, friendly and very capable of managing the estate. She's charming and tactful, with a taste for plain-speaking; this disregard for social conventions reflects her sense of independence, rather than an ignorance of the world. And while she dreams of seeing the world, she views her situation with a certain pragmatic acceptance - she's more inclined to do something about her problems than wallow, but not so perfect that nothing ever troubles her.Her brother Aubrey is a precocious, bookish teenager, destined for an academic university career and deeply self-conscious of his limp. His relationship with his sister is characterised by in-jokes, quotations, tolerance for each other's differences and a strong sense of companionship. Sibling relationships in Heyer's novels have never struck me as having particular depth or significance, so I was pleasantly surprised.Venetia and Aubrey's life is changed by the arrival of a normally-absent neighbour, "the Wicked Baron". Reputation aside, Lord Damerel is a fairly unconvincing rake, (with the exception of his first appearance). However, he's a very convincing to both Venetia and Aubrey. Too few romances seem to be about friendship. I was delighted.Of course, friendship doesn't have the same inherent tensions as courtship, (even viewing Damerel and Venetia's friendship as a subtle courtship), and so unexpected news from Conway turns the Lanyon household upside down...Circumstances in Heyer's novels are often amusing - characters plot and plan, and they may find themselves in awkward situations in consequence. But in Venetia, the situation is genuinely beyond the Lanyons' control. And I found myself really empathising with their struggles, and liking what their reactions revealed about their characters, and how important their friendship with Damerel in all of this. Unfortunately, Venetia loses some of its depth - and, I would argue, realism - as the story progresses, (although Venetia never loses her independent spirit). Characters disappear abruptly, and change of scene is not a change for the better. I still liked it, but I could have easily liked it more.But I'm judging it by the things I liked, rather than the things I didn't. It's not perfect, but I found in it a heroine I wanted to be friends with, who possessed psychological depth and a lot of other qualities I admired. I've only read a fraction of Heyer's novels, but this is going on the list with Cotillion as my favourite. He laughed out at that, flinging back his head in wholehearted enjoyment, gasping: “Why, oh why did I never know you until now?”“It does seem a pity,” she agreed. “I have been thinking so myself, for I always wished for a friend to laugh with.”“To laugh with!” he repeated slowly.“Perhaps you have friends already who laugh when you do,” she said diffidently. “I haven’t, and it’s important, I think—more important than sympathy in affliction, which you might easily find in someone you positively disliked.”

Unusually racy by Heyer's standards, the hero being a notorious rake – and not only not a reformed one to begin with, he remains more-or-less unreformed at the end. Nor does the heroine want him any different. "Shall I enjoy [your orgies]?" she asks him. La!

Will I never learn? There should be an automatic warning on Amazon that pops up whenever I blindly deposit another Heyer romance in my shopping basket: 'You do not like Georgette Heyer. Please remove this item'. In fact, buying Venetia on Kindle was even worse than that, because I remembered - too late - that I had already borrowed the same novel from the library, and then returned the book unread because I couldn't get past this instructive, nauseating description of the Heyeroine: 'But Venetia had been born with a zest for life which was unknown to him, and a high courage that enabled her to look hazards in the face, and not shrink from encountering them.'And that, in a nutshell, is my first problem with Heyer: there is absolutely no subtlety, depth or insight in any of her Regency romances. The heroes and heroines are entirely straightforward and safe, and the plots are formulaic. There is absolutely no comparison with Austen, and this from a reader who only discovered the genius of Jane's writing last year! My excuse for buying Venetia is that one online review likened the eponymous Heyeroine to Jane Austen's Emma, a tenuous recommendation that nevertheless drew me in. However, the similarities are purely superficial: despite Venetia Lanyon's secluded upbringing (in Yorkshire - another lure), her independent status, and an older love interest who resides in a neighbouring estate, she is a mere pretender to Emma Woodhouse. Austen created timeless personalities in her own time, but Heyer seems so concerned with researching the Regency era that she forgets to craft believable - or even varied - characters. Venetia is twenty-five, stunningly beautiful (with 'large, brilliant eyes' and 'guinea-gold hair'), intelligent, charming and loved by all. Not even one pretend-flaw. Damerel, the 'Wicked Baron', is a watered-down Rochester, all swarthy features with a reputation that exceeds him. They meet, he kisses her 'ruthlessly', thinking her a servant girl, and a very tepid romance develops - slowly - over three hundred pages. He's not even allowed to be a proper rake, only a misunderstood Byronic hero transformed by the love of a good woman! Secondary characters are introduced to stretch out the story, take up a chapter or two, then vanish without a trace. Is there a sequel - what happens to Venetia's pregnant sister-in-law and her domineering mother? Does Conway ever return home? Will Edward marry Clara? Not a clue.He repeated very creditably: '"Idiotish"!' A laugh shook him. 'I thought I should never hear you say that again!''Do I say it a great deal?' she asked, and then, as he nodded: 'Oh dear, how very tiresome of me! I must take care!'My second gripe is with Heyer's excessive use of Regency slang, or 'flash talk', but not because I find her doublespeak hard to decipher - most of her expressions make sense in context (bar 'antidotes', which I think are old maids, and how 'eating Hull cheese' can possibly mean getting drunk). I am not 'stoopid', or illiterate, but Heyer's constant, indiscriminate swapping of plain English for Woosterish terms, irrespective of character or situation, drives me up the wall! Venetia and her scholarly brother Aubrey have been sequestered in remotest Yorkshire since they were born, and yet they bandy slang terms like the 'Pinkest' dandies in London. Historical detail is all very well, but some brave editor should have told Heyer to put down the 1811 Dictionary of Vulgar Tongue and step away. Without constant references to York and Thirsk, I never would have known that the Lanyon family are supposed to live in North Yorkshire, because they speak exactly like the haut ton in the fashionable south, and sound just as idiotic (or should that be 'idiotish'?) The only clever riposte in the whole story - 'More hair than wit' - actually comes from Shakespeare!Georgette Heyer had the best intentions - painstaking research, inoffensive characters, entertaining plots - and thousands of readers still love her Regency romances, but I cannot balance her fluffy, girls' own frolics with Austen's sharp eye and skilful narratives. I keep trying, for some reason, but have yet to find the Heyer novel that breaks the mold.