Bantam, $8.99, ISBN 978-0-553-57190-5
Historical Romance, 1997 (Reissue)
In Mischief, we meet Imogen Waterstone, a 25-year-old newly minted heiress with a passion for all things Zamar—an ancient, fictional civilization that’s about as real as my enthusiasm for this novel.
Imogen, our plucky heroine, has inherited her uncle’s estate along with his obsession for Zamarian knick-knacks. She’s so versed in Zamar lore that she moonlights as a male scholar, because apparently, that’s what passes for rebellion in her world.
Enter Matthias Marshall, the Earl of Colchester, a 34-year-old Indiana Jones-wannabe with a reputation more dangerous than his actual personality. Imogen, in a twist of logic that would make even the most far-fetched soap opera blush, decides this “dangerous” man has “delicate sensibilities.” Why? Because he doesn’t immediately jump on board with her half-baked revenge plot. Oh, Imogen, you sweet summer child.
Reading Mischief, one can’t help but feel that Amanda Quick has reached her breaking point and decided to throw caution—and coherence—to the wind. The result is a novel that reads like it was written by an AI programmed exclusively with romance tropes and an unhealthy obsession with a made-up civilization.
Speaking of Zamar, if you enjoy that word, prepare for a feast. We’ve got Zamar pottery, Zamar references, Zamarian Kama Sutra (because why not?), and secret Zamar martial arts that turn our hero into Bruce Lee faster than you can say “cultural appropriation.” It’s as if Ms Quick discovered a “Zamar” button on her keyboard and couldn’t resist mashing it every other sentence.
Meanwhile, the actual story plods along with all the passion of a sloth on sedatives. The characters are so formulaic they might as well have “Insert Brooding Hero Here” and “Place Feisty Heroine There” printed on their foreheads. The mystery is about as mysterious as wondering whether the sun will rise tomorrow. As for the villain, they helpfully explain their entire evil plan before dying in a way that would make even Disney villains roll their eyes.
The one bright spot in this Zamarian nightmare is the morbid housekeeper and her tales of tenants past. Frankly, I’d much rather read a collection of her grim anecdotes than suffer through another page of Zamar-this and Zamar-that.
In conclusion, Mischief is less a romance novel and more a cautionary tale about the dangers of letting your spell-check add random words to your manuscript. Ms Quick, I beg you: step away from Zamar and remember that sometimes, less is more… especially when it comes to fictional ancient civilizations.
