The Scarlet Pimpernel

Some books are pretty neat the first time read, less so on a second reading. Some books, if you allow enough time to go by, stand a third and a fourth, maybe even a fifth reading. It's best to stop at the first with the Scarlet Pimpernel. You get it all on the first reading, and on the second all you see are the flaws. I know it's a classic, but there won't be a third, fourth or fifth. It's been years since the first time I read it, so a second reading should have been almost a first.

I think my irritation comes from the perfection of the protagonists. Marguerite Blakeney, Sir Percy's French wife is described as "the sharpest wits in Europe," yet she's remarkably dumb. She goes for a year not realizing her husband isn't the silly fop he pretends to be, despite the fact that he's the richest fellow in England and somehow manages to administer his extensive holdings and he's friends with a coterie of rich and gallant fellows who'll do anything for him, to include the Crown Prince. Somehow he was intelligent and fascinating enough for her to marry him in the first place. Duh.

After accidentally betraying him to the evil Frenchie Chauvelin, she grabs one of those gallant friends and sets out for Calais to rescue her genius husband with absolutely no idea where to go or what to do. It never occurs to her to merely give the friend the message and send him, since he'd be less conspicuous  and he'd know where to go and he could defend himself. Duh.

The sneering Chauvelin is dumb enough to leave Sir Andrew and Lord Tony alive after having them conked on the head and stealing the compromising letter. He's dumb enough not to recognize Sir Percy disguised as a Jew, and to "come back later to deal with" him and Marguerite. Duh.

Robespierre is dumb enough not to have Chauvelin's head chopped off, like they were chopping the heads off anyone else who screwed up big time, which is why he got to appear in so many sequels. Duh.

Meanwhile, I'm typing. Most of it is writing. Del's got most of a new chapter and he's around 70,000 words. I've roughed out the story of Nellie Moriarty and Quincy Holmes. It's at 30,000 words right now, so the bones need a lot of flesh, otherwise I end up with a tale of lightning courtship, which isn't what I want. Its purpose is to let the characters' personalities take shape, which they are.

Nellie is pretty and she's competent, but she's damaged both physically and emotionally. Obviously it's a tale of courtship -- most novels are. Quincy has to serve as her catalyst, to bring her out of the funk she's fallen into after the breakup of her marriage and the realization that her husband found her ugly. Amputation stumps really aren't pretty, and an explosion powerful enough to deprive a person of an arm and a leg will leave lots of other incidental damage. In the first draft I've probably spent too much time on the things she has difficulty doing, anything from taking a bath to fishing. Quincy, on the other hand, comes across as slightly too perfect. The conflict comes from Nell's reluctance to accept the fact that someone can still find her attractive. She has to go through friendship and to accept the support of the people around her.

I've seen "Nellie" on several occasions, though I'll admit I've only ever seen her missing a leg or an arm, not both. I've seen pictures of Mary Dague, minus two arms but with both legs, and I've seen guys minus an arm and a leg. Nell's still pretty real to me, despite her approximation, every time I go to Walter Reed.

Quincy's not a millionaire. He's got a moderate amount of money saved up and he wants to go into business. He's got another fund to buy a house, not outright but with a mortgage like everybody else. He's the poor but honest lad, and Nellie is his princess. His "wealth" lies in his network of friendships.

We'll see how they work out.