Avon, $5.99, ISBN 0-380-78075-5
Historical Romance, 1995
No matter your feelings about the Netflix show, it’s undeniable that Julia Quinn hit her stride with the Bridgerton series. Dancing at Midnight, however, is not peak Quinn. It suffers from the same affliction as her debut, Splendid—one-dimensional angst that’s more plot device than an organic part of the character’s personality.
In fact, Dancing at Midnight takes this to new heights… er, lows.
Let’s talk plot: Lady Arabella Blydon, another blessed beauty, laments the sheer hardship of being beautiful and brilliant. Naturally, when a character constantly reminds everybody of her intellect as a bluestocking, you know what that means (spoiler: she’s not as smart as she thinks she is). Tired of being admired—poor dear—she flees to the countryside for some faux rustic living. Think of it as camping for the aristocracy. Here, she meets Lord John Blackwood, the obligatory wounded war hero, because what’s a historical romance without a dash of trauma?
If Splendid was Julia Quinn’s riff on Cinderella, Dancing at Midnight is her take on Edmond Rostan’s Cyrano de Bergerac, with a side of Beauty and the Beast for good measure. The banter and chemistry hint at the Ms Quinn we love, but poor Lord John is like a human seesaw, leaving you with whiplash. One moment, he’s convinced he’s not good enough for Bella and must push her away; the next, he’s pining for her, reeling her back in. It’s like watching a cat play with a mouse—except it goes on far too long and stops being fun.
Bella, meanwhile, is the reckless, naive heroine of your nightmares. She makes decisions that are so mind-numbingly stupid, you’ll find yourself wondering how she survived this long. Whether it’s charging into dark alleys alone or gallivanting into storms unprepared, Bella is here to ensure your blood pressure stays elevated.
On the bright side, the secondary characters steal the show. Bella’s family is downright adorable, even if they’re a testament to the dangers of spoiling someone until they think they’re far smarter and hardier than they actually are. And let’s not forget the secondary romance—it’s far more engaging than the main one, providing a much-needed break from the hero’s melodramatic antics and Bella’s perilous decision-making.
In summary, Dancing at Midnight is not the author’s best work by any means. This one’s for completionists who want to collect every Julia Quinn book, even if they never actually read them. If you’re looking for better stories, stick with the Bridgerton clan and leave Bella and John to their overly dramatic angst.
