Those very few men that I know who have ventured inside a Heyer novel have enjoyed them immensly.
Last week I was at Basford Library for a councillor advice surgery, and as is sometimes the way, there wasn’t anyone to see me. So I picked up a Heyer novel to see what it was like.
And it was good. I got through 60-odd pages in the hour alotted to me. It seemed an entertaining romp much in the way Jane Austen is. Parties, fools, an all-round good egg hero trying to avoid being married off to a silly empty-headed girl by his silly mother and silly sister. A mystery as well… why has the toll booth keeper disappeared leaving his young charge watching the gate?
Unfortunately, I’m not easily going to find out, because I didn’t have my library card with me, and couldn’t borrow the book. I emptied my wallet of clutter as a precaution when I went to France, and hadn’t got around to putting it back in. Besides, I have an expensive habit of forgetting all about library books until months after they should have gone back.