The Captive by Victoria Holt

My year of retro reading has taken me back to my high school days. Carrying around a copy of The Legend of the the Seventh Virgin  - "virgin" being the operative words here - got teen girls lots of attention.

Eleanor Hibbard used a number of pseudonyms, the most noted being Jean Plaidy for her historical novels, Philippa Carr for family sagas. Victoria Holt for Gothic romances. She has written over 200 books, 

Holt's romances function as a gateway to more aggressive bodice ripper novels. Some of my friends moved on to those, while others eventually closed the cover on Holt and her peers. My home bookshelves show that I was quite devoted to her, and so I thought it might be fun to see how her work holds up for me after many, many years.

Our heroine's parents immersed themselves in archeology and Egyptology, leaving their daughter, Rosetta (yes, she was named after a rock) to be raised by the colorful downstairs staff of maids, cooks and butlers. They know all the juicy London tittle-tattle and become instrumental in helping Rosetta solve a local murder mystery.

This is one of Holt's last novels, and it seems my Victoria lost her way.  There are shipwrecks, pirates, kidnapping, slave trading, a harem, and of course, a murder.  Those ingredients in and of themselves have tons of potential, but none of those many plot lines develop into anything significant.  Of course, a love triangle ties the elements together in a loose way and although I finished the book just last week, I can't remember which man the stony Rosetta ends up with.  Was it the deck swabbing accused murderer, or was it the handsome guy with the limp who was days away from becoming a eunuch?

In the end, I'd say it was OK.  Our favorite writers must feel some sense of obligation to those of us who wait and wait for the newest offering to pop.  Sometimes they disappoint us, and we kindly give them another chance.  That's a good thing.  We all need to escape once in a while, and if that need takes us to a Turkish harem so be it.  Hopefully, teenage girls still stumble across Victor Holt's early works and carry them around proudly - no masking tape over eyebrow raising title words.  

It's raining today.  The fair is over.  Teachers have begun in-service.  Change is in the air.  

Thanks for stopping by.