Avon, $5.99, ISBN 0-380-78562-5
Historical Romance, 1996
Julia Quinn has earned quite a few titles over the years, but one that often sneaks into the conversation—right after “Queen of Black Romances”—is that she writes humor better than she plots. Whether this reputation is fair or not is up for debate, but if it started somewhere, it probably started with Minx, one of her more divisive novels.
Yes, a divisive Julia Quinn novel! Who would’ve thought? But this was before she fully embraced the idea that frothy, fun romances with minimal angst were her ticket to bestseller heaven, so buckle up for some bumpy roads ahead.
In Minx, it’s finally time for Henrietta “Henry” Barrett and Dunford to take center stage after making appearances as secondary characters in Ms Quinn’s previous books. Dunford inherits a title… and along with it, the guardianship of Henry, the quintessential tomboy who’s not only super smart but has also single-handedly managed an entire estate since she was young. And she did all of this with an IQ that seems to hover just above average. Truly, we are in the presence of greatness.
What follows is the classic “My ward is all grown up and hot, and now my pants are too tight!” drama. Julia Quinn’s novels are like comfort food, grounded in familiar archetypes and tropes, and Minx doesn’t stray from the recipe.
Where Minx shines is in the humor department. This is Ms Quinn at her most polished to date, with razor-sharp wit, delightful repartee, and interactions between characters that are as charming as they are hilarious. But it’s not all laughs—there’s an undercurrent of genuine affection in these exchanges, especially between family members and friends, that adds a layer of depth and even a touch of poignancy. That’s the secret sauce of Julia Quinn’s comedy, and she’s mastered it.
However, romantic conflict? Not so much. Prepare for some serious secondhand embarrassment when Dunford suddenly morphs into a raging green-eyed monster, the Incredible Sulk, and Henry, who up until this point has been all spine and spirit, somehow forgets how to tell him to take a hike—all because the plot demands it. The ensuing misunderstanding is stupid, yes, but worse, it drags on longer than a Victorian mourning period, turning our lovable leads into the most annoying couple since Romeo and Juliet.
The ending manages to salvage some dignity, but by then, you might be tempted to toss the book into the nearest lake. If only we could edit out the conflict like we edit our social media posts—the book would be much improved!
So, in the end, Minx is a bit of a mixed bag—a showcase of both the best and the worst that Julia Quinn has to offer. It’s a fascinating read if you’re an avid fan curious about how far the author has come since her early days—layers of delicious wit and charm, with an unfortunate layer of plot-induced stupidity as well. It’s a fascinating look at Ms Quinn’s early work, showing both her potential and her pitfalls, but be prepared for some rough patches along the way.
