Review of "A Thorn in the Garden" by E.C. Roderick

Score: 91/100 (9.1 out of 10)

A Thorn in the Garden is a mostly-tender, sometimes-edgy historical romance novel by E.C. Roderick. It is the fourth installment in the TAKEN series, a collection of books that follow Sylvina (often just called "Sylvie"), a widowed American woman from the 21st century, who is wrapped up in a romantic misadventure with Seamus (often called "Leif"), a former 18th century British soldier in the American colonies.

By this fourth book, Leif has risen to the rank of Duke of Monteith and seems to have his own fleet, with a capital ship he named after Sylvina. Hey, if Forest Gump can do it for Jenny, Leif can do it for Sylvie. It is a bit corny and cheesy, but... ok. You could argue that it's also sweet, thoughtful, and romantic.

Apparently, the Sylvina is the finest ship in the Carribean or something like that. He calls it the "queen of all my vessels." He also owns several other vessels including the Intrepid. No, not the aircraft carrier, the 18th century equivalent.

Anyway, this book kicks off with Sylvie and Leif being reunited in 1768. The two are married now, which effectively makes Sylvie the Duchess of Monteith. Both Leif and Sylvie (especially Leif) seem to have a lot more power, wealth, authority, and agency now, much more so than they had in previous books. In previous books, it seemed like they were always being pulled here and there, and that the power always lay in someone else's hands.

On one hand, we're really happy for them both. On the other hand, they've reached a point in which they're pretty OP. There's not much higher for them to climb, unless the author intends for them to eventually become king and queen, which definitely isn't happening because it would create a major time paradox in the 21st century.

We also can't shake the uneasy feeling that this is the fulfillment of some overly-idealized, unrealistic fantasy. The setup starts to look like one of those cheap, lower-quality romances in which the male lead has all the money, status, and influence in the world, almost like an eighteenth century cousin to something like Fifty Shades of Gray, The Mister, or one of the other dime-a-dozen "billionaire CEO"/alpha rich male protagonist novels.

Leif isn't just rich, he's the "wealthiest man in the colony." He's even richer than the Hancocks!

Eros from Blood Relations fell into that character trap/trope too.

Yeah, it's cool to imagine a character getting all the wealth and power you could ever want, but it also dampens the realism and believability. The characters become less like us and more like some idealized other.

But, hey, at least Leif is actually a good and nice guy. In fact, there are times when he seems overly good and overly nice. He's super mushy and romantic. We already talked about how he named his best ship after Sylvie. Well, he's driven to the verge of madness and death to fight for her honor. He constantly fawns over Sylvie. And, in a move which repeats a trope which we constantly find annoying, he always finds time away from his extremely important and time-consuming job to be with Sylvie. Look, we're not saying that Leif can't have work-life balance, but he isn't just running any ole' business, he's running a shipping and smuggling business, which you'd think would require him to be out on the water for significant periods of time. But... plot convenience. The characters need to be together, so we'll just have them be together.

We see this problem with a lot of other books. Like, in The Alpha's Hunter, Marcus and Joanna are supposed to be working to stop a werewolf uprising and tons of werewolves and people from dying, but they constantly find time to have sex, like... 20 times a day.

Similarly, in A Brighter Summer, Brandt and Elissa seem to have sex 30 times a day despite supposedly being full-time workers for a demanding and time-consuming enterprise. So, somehow, they manufactured 500 extra hours a day to squeeze in some sexy time.

Now, in all fairness, Sylvie and Leif don't have that many sex scenes in this book, but have quite a few, especially in the first-half.

These sex scenes are prolonged, highly-detailed, drawn out, and intense. However, we will give the author credit for being mostly tactful with the language. Euphemisms are often used during the sexual acts themselves. For example:

"He hardened further as if he’d turned into stone. The drilling became distinct and complete..."

"...my walls became slick, pulled me closer toward the height before the fall. I began tightening around him. My flesh, gripping him, beckoned him to remain..."

"...expelled himself inside my chasm, completely overrun by his overflowing release."

We appreciate that the author took almost a poetic approach to describing the sex instead of just being vulgar, which often makes the sex seem more hurtful and malicious than romantic (in other books).

Ok, so let's just say this: we thought the first half of this book was boring. We felt our interests and attentions dipping constantly. We think the problem is that there isn't really a real problem, clear villain, clear stakes, or even a clear plot in the first half of the book. It often seems like Sylvie is just here with Leif now, they cuddle, they have sex a bunch of times, they talk about how much they love and miss each other, and Sylvie sees the life that Leif has been living and how successful he has become.

Ok... but... what's the problem?

There is a brief moment when Leif and Sylvie talk about how when they have a baby, the baby might not be able to survive the cross over to another timeline. Also, they worry about how they're going to deal with all the lies they told Sylvie's family to cover for their unbelievable experiences. So, is that the problem the book is trying to address? It doesn't seem like it.

There is another scene in which Sylvie realizes that Leif is smuggling slaves or is, at the very least, a slave owner (of Mercy and Jerome). That's a moral and ethical dilemma. It actually makes Leif a more gray and less perfect character, which is kinda good. But... is that the problem the book is trying to address? It doesn't seem like it.

There's yet another plot-thread about Leif potentially not being loyal and actually being a spy, which would be ironic (if true) given that's what Sylvie was accused of when she was "taken" in book one. Is that the problem the book is trying to resolve? ...Yeaaaah... sorta...

So, you see why it was hard for us to engage with the first half of this book? Yes, it was nice that Leif and Sylvie could be all lovey-dovy in their own romance series, but what's the plot? What problem are the characters supposed to be solving? What specific challenge? What specific obstacle? Because the first half makes the answer to that question seem so mixed up, muddy, and vague. We had no idea where this book was supposed to be going beyond just showing us how cool and bad@$$ Leif's life was (well, aside from the slavery) and how much Leif and Sylvie love each other.

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WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD
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Thankfully, we finally get a clear villain, a clear problem, and a clear challenge later on in this book, mostly in the form of Lord Brimfield, a professional @$$hole who is supposedly Leif's good "friend" and ally. (Also, to a less extent, Captain Berkley).

Lord Brimfield is a racist, a bigot, a sexist, a rapist, a traitor, and simply an @$$hole all the time. How in the blue hell do Leif and Sylvie not see the danger he presents? The dude pretty much has "Bad News" written in BOLD RED INK on his forehead, and our protagonists are too busy with their heads in the clouds (and on each other's genitals) to see it.

There's even this unintentionally hilarious scene on page 450 in which Sylvie, after literally being menaced by this sketchy, hateful, racist @$$hole constantly, finally realizes: "His words suddenly sent an electric current through my bones, shocking me as I realized that he hated my husband."

No, $%it, lady! How did you not see this coming? Aren't you like a physician or something, implying you have a doctorate or a medical degree? Do you not have common sense or the basic ability to gather social cues? The dude has literally been trying to paint your husband as a traitor and a spy, and has been trying to drive you two apart for like 200 pages. How are we so much more aware of this than you are?

This moment, like a lot of this book, makes Sylvie seem useless and incompetent. And that's probably the thing that annoyed us about Sylvie throughout this entire series.

Sylvie SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

Think about it: Sylvie is FROM THE FUTURE. Why the heck didn't she spend more time in the 21st century researching the 18th century to give herself an advantage there? Why does it seem like she's always two steps behind and that all this information is new, confusing, and surprising to her? It's so frustrating! Like, what would you do?

Why wouldn't you use your historical knowledge and scientific wisdom from the future to surprise and absolutely devastate your enemies in the past?

Remember that scene from Hocus Pocus when Max lights the Zippo lighter and calls it “the burning rain of death,” and the Sanderson sisters totally freak out because they think he is wielding some terrifying dark magic, when it is really just a lighter and the sprinkler system? Or how about in Army of Darkness when Bruce Campbell busts out a shotgun in a medieval duel? That is exactly the kind of advantage Sylvie should have all the time. She is the one from the future. She should be the person who can wave a “match” or a "shotgun" of modern knowledge or technology in front of these 18th century people and scare the living daylights out of the villains, outthink them, and outmaneuver them at every turn. Yet she's the one who keeps getting outmaneuvered, surprised, and victimized. Oh, c'mon! Give us a break!

It always seems like Sylvie is self-nerfing. Like, she should have this enormous potential, but she just tries to fit into the time period and blend into the environment like she's some octopus or chameleon. C'mon, girl!

Of all the doggone people the universe could send back to the 18th century, it almost seems like Sylvie is the most safe.

The closest we remember her using her knowledge, it's more like a decoration rather than a tool or a weapon (which is frustrating). She recalls something about interfaith and interracial marraiages from the painting of Dido by David Martin. She also debates about Greek mythology, specifically about the character of Medusa being ugly and evil or beautiful and misunderstood. Ok... that's nice, but what would be nicer is if she actually used this information in a productive and proactive way (to achieve something) rather than using it in flowery word wars.

And one more thing that got to us was that rape/sexual assualt was used as a plot device in this book again. We mentioned in our review of book one that we'd really like to see this trope used less if an author can help it. In that review, we wrote:

"On one hand, this adds to the trauma and tension. On another hand, it's incredibly uncomfortable to read yet another book that plays with the idea of rape or sexual assault casually. We've read way too many of those and are kinda tired of it."
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SPOILERS END

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When this book actually gets past all the meandering lovey-dovy stuff and actually provides a clear problem and a clear villain, it really picks up.

This book is unmistakably for romance enthusiasts. It's especially nice to hear Leif repeat the "pulse of my heart" phrase, which was the title of the second book and a reoccurring romantic catchphrase.

If you like time-travel and period piece novels, particularly about the 18th century, you might enjoy this book!

Check it out on Amazon!