This is the only one of Mary Balogh's novels I struggled in reviewing, and not for the reasons one might imagine. Indeed, I find no flaw worth mentioning, though I suppose there must be one or two. Simply Love is true to Balogh's gentle, steady style, and the characters are comfortably familiar, even if you haven't read all the tales in the "Simply" or the Slightly" series.
I find reviewing this book difficult because I know, far more intimately than I might like, what it feels like to be "damaged" and to have given up on any chance for love. I have lived it, and I can tell you, Balogh's insights into the heart, soul and mind of emotionally scarred Anne and physically maimed Sydnam are dead-on. The book could almost have been sub-titled "Simply Given Up on Love."
To those few human beings who have been chewed up and spat out by life experience, the struggle with pain, loneliness and isolation can become, inexorably, the ubiquitous fabric of their existence; slowly, insidiously, like the frog in the pot of heating water, they lose their sense of hope and optimism for their future.
Balogh has captured this subtly hidden malady of the human spirit and infused her main characters with it. Anne's herculean efforts to hide her fear, sadness and pain will stab at your heart. Sydnam's desperate, tenacious struggle to hold on to the limited physical ability and independence he retains in the aftermath of horrific torture as a prisoner of war literally made me weep. No fluffy, witty romance here to be sure, and yet...
We begin to see as the pages turn that Anne and Sydnam may be the only two people in the bright, gay world they inhabit who, as a direct result of their own personal, private anguish, have the unique ability to understand, accept, heal and ultimately, love one another. And so they do.
Make no mistake, Balogh is not offering a smooth, sweet, tidy love story. The intimate encounters between Anne and Sydnam are at worst awkward, and at best poignant and wrenching, rather than erotic. However, this is perfectly fitted to the storyline. After all, this is a man who has lost his right arm, bears horrific burn scars from cheek to knee and is half blind. It would be ludicrous (not to mention insulting to the reader) to offer sophisticated, suave and graceful loveplay.
And this is exactly what makes this such a special romance. The author wants her readers to know that there IS hope and optimism and love, even for those people most unlikely to have it. And I, as one of them, would like to say, Thank You, Mary, for writing a beautiful story----about us.
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