Misfortune

Title: Misfortune
Author: Wesley Stace
Published: 2006 by Vintage (orig. 2005)
Genre: Historical drama
Pages: 519 + appendix


The urge to re-read Misfortune kept growing over some days, so I eventually just gave in and picked it up. If possible, I loved it even more than the first time! Maybe it's because I knew what was coming, and the bits that seemed slow last time just flew past.

A newborn baby is abandoned on a trash heap in the seedier parts of London in 1820. Lucky for him, one of the richest men in the kingdom happens to pass the heap on his way home, and picks the baby up. An eccentric fellow, Young Lord Loveall completely ignores the fact that the baby is a boy, and decides to raise him as a daughter, Rose. Our heroine.

Rose grows up happy with her best friends, the daughter and son of the Loveall family secretary. She is loved by her family and the villagers, but there are people in the household who would love nothing more than to cause trouble, and tell the truth to the ghastly family members who are after the riches and the grand house.

Rose narrates the story herself, through joy and sorrow, and the 500+ pages just fly by, making the reader both laugh and cry.


   "Rose, you're not the only person doing the empress!" She laughed good-naturedly.
   "The what?"
   "Doing the empress. That is what they call it: men who..." I felt quite sorry for her as she stumbled over her explanation.
   "I am not doing anything, Victoria. The members of the Inslip Club have nothing in common with me, nor shall I seek their society. Theirs is a hobby: I presume that they impersonate women. I am not doing an impersonation. You cannot imitate that which you really are, Victoria, and what you see now is me."
   "Rose, I certainly didn't mean..." Though she tried to mollify me, I was warming to my theme. I started to walk with a longer stride. 
   "I may represent a challenge to others, but I am perfectly happy with who I am. In fact, I fear that it is not men but women who are the great female impersonators, and growing even more so!" I indicated two women with ridiculous bustles and absurdly accentuated corsets waddling down the other side of the street. "Present company excepted, of course," I added, raising my eyebrows at her cropped hair and collared work shirt.