The Language of Roses, by Heather Rose Jones (Queen of Swords)
I loved Heather Rose Jones’s “Alpennia” books, with all
their derring-do, politics, and intelligent romance, so I grabbed her new book,
The Language of Roses, without nary a glance at
the description. It soon became clear to me that this was yet another (yawn)
retelling of “Beauty and the Beast,” with hints that it will be a lesbian
romance. But Jones is a thoughtful author who has never followed the
predictable path, so I hung in there during the set-up as the eldest daughter
of a merchant who foolishly plucks a rose takes his place in the home of
a terrifying Beast and his icy sister, invisible servants and all. This
daughter, unlike her boy-crazy sisters, has never fallen in love (hint, hint) and
regards marriage as a duty or a financial agreement, with mutual respect and
friendship the best she can hope for. Even if she is a stranger to romance, she
loves her family deeply and is fearless and passionate in their defense.
From the very beginning, like a twining rose vine, Jones examines
the nature and varieties of love. Is it more than intense, all-consuming
physical attraction, and if so, how? The story kept remining me of the
different hormones involved in infatuation (dopamine and norepinephrine) versus
long-lasting, committed love (oxytocin). Jones doesn’t preach or descend into
lengthy exposition on the neurochemical nature of love. Instead, she takes the
reader on a journey of trust, comfort, cherishing, and self-sacrifice.
As a final note, I encourage readers to not judge this book
as a solely a lesbian romance. If you do, and if you think that’s not for you,
you’ll miss out on something remarkable. The characters are universally
appealing, as are the emotions. There are enough plot twists and unexpected
details to keep the pages turning. It’s an absorbing, rewarding read.
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