“(See my review of "Amanda" for my series overview.)
Despite my nitpicky carping on, I am truly and thoroughly enjoying my massive Sunfire re-read project.
Until this... this... festering mound of... this. (This was one volume I could never find as a teen, so this is a first-time read.)
Danielle is the story of an irritating little princess and her irritating parents, who reside on an irritating plantation outside of New Orleans, a non-irritating place that should not have been associated with this travesty. The year is 1814, the war is the one of 1812, and the celebrity guest stars are Andrew Jackson and Jean Lafitte.
Danielle Verlaine, age 15 (and she alone among the Sunfire heroines actually does not turn 16 during the course of the story) is peripherally involved in the war, but the major plot revolves around her romantic idealization of the pirate Jean Lafitte, her conflicts with her pirate-hating father, and her dissatisfaction with her nice-guy fiance, Paul Milerand, and -OOH, a hot young pirate! Shiny! Yes, fate throws handsome Geoffrey Lafitte, a fictional nephew of the non-fictional Jean, at Danielle's perfect little princessy feet, which probably don't even smell.
In case you can't tell by now, Danielle is my major problem with this book. Vivian Schurfranz would have us believe that Danielle is smart, spirited, and independent, when she actually comes off as vain, willful, and reckless. I can accept a certain amount of dumb shenanigans from a 15 year old, but you can't actually expect me to believe that after Danielle is kidnapped by pirates who give her an option to go right home, she is actually going to get hold of her fear and terror enough to decide to stay on with them for a few days in order to carry a report of their good behavior back to her influential father? Even if Geoffrey is really, really cute? Reading a few newspapers doesn't make Danielle smart. Having her swim in the river in her petticoat doesn't make her interesting. And reiterating a zillion times that Danielle is "independent" does not make it so.
You know what? I can sum it up for you in a few short quotes, all from the first chapter:
Danielle's first line, spoken to her horse: "Let's go slowly, my beauty, until we reach the banana grove."
If this doesn't make you roll your eyes, then you don't have eyes.
Danielle's father is "a fiercely independent plantation owner who didn't allow slaves on his plantation- only freeman who were paid a decent wage."
Ooookay. I know this is ridiculous. You know this is ridiculous. Even Schurfranz, deep down, knows that this is ridiculous. Yet she's obviously employed this historically inaccurate conceit in order to make Danielle and her family more palatable to modern readers. There is simply NO WAY that the Verlaines would find hundreds of men willing to voluntarily take the nasty, sticky, back-breaking job of sugarcane harvesting, and even if they could, there is no way that they could make enough of a profit to keep them in the lifestyle that they are described as living. It's not that there couldn't be abolitionists in the American south at this time, it's just that they wouldn't be *plantation owners.* Plantations could not have existed without slave labor. If you want to write a story with this setting, you are going to have to deal with the issue of slavery, and not with this lame copout.
Not only does Danielle's internal monologue inform us that her father calls her the "most beautiful and the brainiest" girl in New Orleans, she meets up with Paul, and they run into Jean Lafitte, who calls her beautiful, then a mean pirate sneers at her, and she internal-monologues that "her beauty held no fascination for him."
And this is in the *first chapter.* Then Danielle tenderly nurses the wounded soldiers, and Andrew Jackson chooses her to open a ball with him because she is so gosh-darn beautiful! Somewhere in there is some kind of daring escape from pirates who want to ransom her, a few more attempts to convince us that Danielle is marvelously special, (such as her random visit to Betsy Summers, a character that appears to have been introduced only to show that aristocratic Danielle is magnanimous enough to visit someone who lives on the waterfront) and a few huge, glaring signs that Geoffrey is not the dazzling shiny prince he appears to be.
And then the war is over, and we're left with a final third of the book that is solely and entirely devoted to Danielle's excruciatingly boring little love drama. We all know Geoffrey stinks as a human being by this point, so watching Danielle waffle between her beaux is utterly pointless. We're all just waiting for her to grow the heck up and quit whining about how no one likes her crappy pirate boyfriend. For a hundred pages.
Here's a nagging question: if the Verlaines are so progressive and independent and smart and perfect and odorless, why in the heck did they involve Danielle in a "marriage contract" with Paul in the first place? And since Danielle is obviously going to end up with Paul (who is nice, but entirely too insistent that the 15 year old agree to marry him), it completely negates her very valid point that they ought to let her choose her own husband. Sloppy, sloppy storytelling.
Which is a shame, because as usual, it's obvious that a good deal of research went into this novel. Schurfranz (the most hit-or-miss of the Sunfire writers) has an annoying habit of making the historical figures too much of a presence in the story. Just not my cup of tea. And after that eye-rolling doozy of a first chapter, it was pretty much all downhill for me.
Verdict: Minus a star for a plot that is actually a heck of a lot dumber even than it sounds, minus one more for the historically dubious slaveless plantation, and minus three for the single most irritating heroine I have ever encountered in literature. Which makes my official rating "no stars." Don't bother seeking this one out unless you're a completist (I *am,* darnit!) or you find it really cheap.