Image from Amazon.com

Oh boy. I might catch it for even reviewing (or reading) this series. And I might catch it for what I have to say about it, by a completely different readership. I probably shouldn’t have even bothered and avoided both forms of angry customers, but I have read and I have judged accordingly and there’s nothing you can do about it now.

The Bridgerton Series is not exactly my usual genre—romance. But that’s not the complete story. I am open to almost any genre if it is a good book, an excellent book even. And I also take mental breaks and read lighter, more casual, more popular books when I need a quick, less-cerebral, entertaining read, traditionally on writing retreats and sometimes vacations. In other words, I am not a stranger to romance. Let me re-phrase: I have read a half-dozen solidly romance novels in the past few years—on purpose—and many more literary-romance, classic-romance, or multi-genre-romance books. Most of these books have been surprisingly good, partly because I tend to choose books from best-ofs lists. Life is only so long, you know. Way too many books, and all that.

Image from Amazon.com

This series—The Bridgerton Series by Julie Quinn—I picked up because of the show. That’s a pretty obvious path which many others have likely trod. Even the show took me a good, long while to get around to watching, because I guessed that it was just going to be trash for excitement’s sake. Perhaps there are glimpses of this, but I ended up really liking the show (like millions of other people), though I only watch it in the dead of night (read: without children around); I’m awaiting season three with much anticipation. And I watched Charlotte—the spin-off—this past summer, while I was waiting with the rest of you for season three. So, with the memory of the costumes still dazzling my eyes and the orchestra-pop still in my ears, I bought the first Bridgerton book to read during some future brain-chill time, which ended up arriving with a winter flu.

In some respects, I was glad to have had The Duke & I on the bedside table when I was sick. I don’t know about you, but when I am sick, I never reach for my usual watches or reads, let alone habits or hobbies. I spent one horrible flu season a few years ago watching every episode of Rachael Ray I could find (uncharacteristic behavior for me), and during my one Covid bout (so far, fingers washed and crossed), I rediscovered LEGOs. Often, these strange and almost hallucinogenic experiences lead me good places. With Bridgerton, I was grateful for something to not demand too much and to keep me turning the pages while not having to only watch TV when I didn’t even have a fever (which makes it hard to read, doesn’t it?). But after a little while, I started wishing that I had laid in the new Emily Henry novel or something else from the Betting on You gal, or something, because the more I read, the more I was disappointed. But I was entertained enough, I guess. And still curious about the series. So, when my husband traipsed off healthily on some errands, I blushed at him and asked if he couldn’t see himself to a bookstore for Bridgerton, number two. I texted him, “The Viscount Who Loved Me.”

Turns out he loves me, too; in no time at all, I had the next book waiting for me to chain-read my way through a sore throat.

I was not less-disappointed. No, I was more disappointed. So much so, that I decided I did not need to read past The Viscount to the rest of the series. There is a roundness and gimmick that I like about the idea: there are eight Bridgerton children (as in children of the late Viscount Bridgerton), and each book in the series is the story of one of those children’s eventual marriage. Set in the now-re-famous Ton of Regency London, this is pretty straightforward Jane Austen meets rippling biceps, if not quite ripped bodices (which I say because there is an element of the traditional and of love even amidst the almost-feminism and the exaggerated sex lives). Then again, the books were more tame than the TV series in visuals (whether in the imagination or the screen), yet failed to deliver on complicated characters and engaging relationships, so that I ended up feeling like the books were, in a way, racier.

Let me explain.

Unlike the TV series (which I will try to stop mentioning during the book review), I did not find these two books to be emotionally engaging. The TV series has nothing to do with it. I did not find these books emotionally engaging in either their story or in the characters. I found them to be cheesy. And as I was reading, I noticed that the titillating bits were less interesting and felt like they were the point. I don’t find that a book that leads to a physical response without any art (or without much art) is not my cup of tea. And it’s not the type of book that we’ll be recommending here on The Starving Artist. Because we believe in writing as art, and we also believe in writing as a craft which can be judged based at least partly on the sum of its parts. There is an element of subjectivity in this field, but also quite a bit of objectivity, too. The thing is, many people don’t care, they just want an opinion from someone who reads sorta like them to help them decide if they should read a book. I often end my reviews—or even begin them—by suggesting the type of person who would like the book I have just read, even if I didn’t enjoy the experience or even if I find it to be objectively bad art and craft. Such is the tale of many reviews here, from Pulitzer Prize winners to old, stand-by Arthurian series, to things written by famous actors who had no business doing that. I try to give you a clue, in between the lines of criticism. Yes, the atmosphere was bleak and there was no punctuation, but I don’t mind if it’s a historical murder mystery set in postapocalyptic steam punk, because I love that stuff! By all means.

At least the first two books of the Bridgerton Series are cheesy. I liked the idea of flawed characters and seeing behind the screens of Victorian writers and thinking about what it would take to get eight children successfully settled in such a fraught, classist, sexist culture, but I did not get swept up into The Duke & I and then found The Viscount to be alarmingly repetitive from the first book. There is also an issue with Daphne’s behavior in the first book which causes many readers to be mad at it, sort of akin to why I will never recommend Outlander to anyone (but not nearly as intense). Without giving too much away, in the second half of the book, Daphne does something manipulative and physically forceful that amounts to forced sex with her husband and most readers who have a problem with it don’t believe it is then dealt with appropriately afterward. With all the cheese and moral ambiguity, then, I closed the book on the last page of the second book and called it. Which is why I am reviewing the series now; I will not be reading any more of it. Two is enough for me.

And when I think of how many other good romance (or in this case, historical romance) books there are undoubtedly out there, ones that entertain and engage just enough that I can somehow justify them to the world? Or even romances that are just amazing, even if they don’t demand knowing 13th century hermeneutics and translating the occasional French? I’ll stick with those. And the show. Definitely the show, very likely until its conclusion, which I’m hoping will see all eight Bridgertons married off, one per year, just like it was intended to be.

In case you want to know, the series is as follows:

The Duke & I (Daffney, the 4th child and eldest girl)The Viscount Who Loved Me (Anthony, the heir)An Offer and a Gentleman (Benedict, the 2nd child)Romancing Mr. Bridgerton (Colin, the 3rd child)To Sir Phillip, with Love (Eloise, the 5th child)It’s In His Kiss (Hyacinth, the youngest sibling)On the Way to the Wedding (Gregory, 6th sibling)

The universe has also been expanded to Bridgerton prequels, set a decade or two earlier, next door to the Bridgertons (so that we can see them now and again, too). It begins with Because of Miss Bridgerton.

Image from Amazon.com

Also of note: the recent editions of these books have epilogues, which Quinn began writing when she realized how much her readers wanted an extra little story to put a bow on the tale and show us how it shook down a little bit later. Like after kids. Or hosting a family gathering a decade later. Or whatever. There is not meant to be anything really surprising about the endings of these books, because classic romance stories end with as many weddings as possible and are signed with “and they lived happily ever after.” We’re looking for tension and laughs, etc. not clues to the ultimate outcome, here. Unfortunately, I didn’t find enough tension or laughs, either.

And for one of my favorite reviews of all time, see HERE and look for xxSarahxx, though it be a bit harsh.

All that said, I always, always wish an author luck, so to speak. Julia Quinn has many devoted fans, and her website is a good place to head if you are one of them. There are family trees and title lists, announcements and lots of extras—mostly short stories that border on self-fan-fiction, which is a trend, actually.

Julia Quinn is a nom de plume for Julia Pottinger. She is American, still technically middle-aged, and has landed on the NY Times Bestsellers List something like 20 times, her books being sold around the world and making her quite a famous writer of historical romance. The Bridgerton Series is her most famous. Quinn is probably not who you expect. She loved reading as a kid and—in one endearing anecdote in her bio—told her dad she wanted to write a novel series one day, but then she went on to Harvard, where she got a degree in art history, and then Yale for a medical degree. But in her first semester of medical school, she found out that her first two novels had gone for auction (which is a big deal), and she soon came to the conclusion that she liked writing better than studying—and by inference, practicing—medicine. She also probably liked that she was successful at it, thereby making this path a financially viable option. So Quinn is smart and she knows a thing or two about history. She also seems to like to give readers what they want, and there is something special about that, even if the result isn’t taught in college classes or shortlisted for the Booker Prize.

“Violet was such a mother–Daphne had forgotten than she was a woman as well” (p120, The Duke & I).

“‘It looks as if they might come to blows.’ / ‘But why? It was all Gregory’s fault?’ / ‘Of course,’ Violet said impatiently, ‘but they’re men, and they’re both furious and embarrassed…'” (p265).

“The best revenge against his father would simply be to live a full and happy life…” (p335).

“And even though she still hadn’t pried her eyes open, it felt like him. The air changed when he was near” (p369).

“But if she was destined to be alone, even with a husband at her side, then by God she’d be alone and strong” (p379, The Viscount Who Loved Me).

“‘You have to live each hour as if it’s your last,’ she said, ‘and each day as if you were immortal'” (p412).

“I think the human heart must be stronger than we could ever imagine” (p414).

Image from The Statesman

When Shondaland took on the Bridgerton content, she/they clearly brought her/their own vision. (Shondaland is both a person and a team.) The wildly popular TV show is just so different from the books, and I don’t mean just the sort of plot changes, and scenery and character trimmings that are a regular part of the written to visual mediums. While Quinn might have had some of the ideas that translated (like feminism and, of course, the main premise and the names and birth order of the siblings), Shondaland took those to places they had never dreamed to go in the book. And perhaps more importantly, Shondaland introduced all sorts of new things–like a ton that has a Black queen with a story, a mystery over who the narrator is, the introduction of more characters who would step into the spotlight in later seasons, and the sense of the ton as a whole, not to mention the royal family–and, yes, twistier plots, deeper characters, tighter and balanced tension, and romances that sizzle. The sexual explicitness is still there–probably even moreso in the TV series, at least for the first season–but I was shocked to discover that the fog on my glasses was not just from the steam on the TV but also the mist in my eyes: these characters seemed like they were in love, were conflicted, and were even exploring things I hadn’t seen like that before, including women going into marriage ignorant and naive. I’m not going to sell to you that this is the best show ever made or even that it lacks any fluff or pandering to audiences, even just being rebellious because; it is chock-full of “intrigue” and eye candy (from the costumes to the beautiful people and, of course, the skin). But it is a show that many people are watching and enjoying, some because of the smut, I suppose, but also many in spite of it or even intrigued by how it’s handled. I honestly thought I wouldn’t like the show, but I do and it even led me to start reading the books. But that’s as far as that will go. Now that the strikes are settled, I’ll be expecting a new season, soon.