Book Recap: Moonlit Obsession, Chapter 1

Hello and welcome back to hell, everyone!

Today's project is sort of an amalgamation of new and old ideas. You see, back in 2021, poor innocent Oculus saw a historical romance/adventure novel in their favorite used bookshop and bought the only available copy. The back cover promised an epic story about a British spy and an American patriot falling in love during the Napoleonic Wars; so poor innocent Oculus picked up that book expecting either a roaring good time with a fiery, heartstopping romance, or something faintly ridiculous but entertaining in classic bodice-ripper fashion. What I found instead was a jaw-droppingly stupid narrative with the most incompetent spies I have ever seen, and so many red flags and creepy undertones that it sent several seasoned bad-story veterans screaming from the chat in my writing group. Yours truly included, at a certain point.

I'm sure y'all would feel terribly slighted if I didn't share the pain with you.

Originally, I thought of writing up a review here and I've been meaning to get to it at some point next year, but that just wouldn't give me enough space to dissect every single brain-punchingly dumb or horrifying plot point. And since my latest recaps were fun to do and reasonably well-read so far, I figured I'd try the same with this book. It'll be less funny-snarky and more analytical-snarky this time around, but I'll do my best to let the fail speak for itself. Behold: the first chapter of the eyebrow-raisingly-titled Moonlit Obsession, written by one Jill Gregory.

source: Goodreads

Chapter 1: The Dance of Seven Red Flags

We open with a young lady named Anemone Carstairs and dear God what – I'm calling a time out. Yes, seriously, Flower Vehiclesteps is the naming scheme we're working with here. I know Carstairs is a legit British last name, but it just sounds fantastically awkward combined with that totally era-accurate first name that is absolutely representative of the late 18th/early 19th century; and no, the fact that it's also an actual flower's name doesn't change that. I mean, who could forget those other loveable Regency romance heroines with names like Pussywillow and Toadflax?

Ahem. So after the very first two words of this book made me headdesk, we find out that, eugh... Anemone is helping a snotty rich girl named Cecilia Pelham dress up for an evening out, because she's working undercover as Cecilia's lady's maid. Alabama is secretly impatient to get Cecilia out of the house, uses the word "atwitter" like that's a normal thing to do, then Cecilia is finally satisfied with her looks and leaves "with a flounce". So that's the kind of elegant prose we're getting. Applesauce is quite disgusted with the pamper and the glitz, revealing that as a soldier's daughter she prefers living on the battlefield and "answering the call of duty". So she's a gamer, cool.

(For the record, I'm also quite disgusted, for different reasons. Not only is an 18th century soldier bringing his young daughter to camp a very... creative take on the era's morals and on soldiering in general, but we're not three pages in and Not Like Other Girls has already reared its ugly head. This is gonna hurt, dear readers.)

Now with a free evening ahead of her, Agriculture goes to meet a gentleman named Oliver, cleverly disguising herself with a hooded blue cloak straight from the Princess Halo School of Subterfuge. Turns out Oliver is her boss who is waiting for her spy report on the Pelham family, and Azerbaijan is looking forward to the meeting because she's "all but certain" that Cecilia's father, Lord Pelham, is an informant to the French forces fighting on Napoleon's side.

Alas, when Acid Reflux lands at her destination, a seedy inn in the... business district – okay then – she finds that Oliver isn't there for their appointment, which surprises her. Instead she finds his assistant, a rude young man she's never seen before, and double what to that, dear readers. Oliver has business elsewhere, as it turns out, but why in the flying heck didn't he send someone Ammonia has seen and knows she can trust? For that matter, if the two of them are working together this closely, how has she never met this assistant before? Make sense, book, I'm begging you, I'm only on the first chapter. If things go on like this I won't survive this recap.

Showing more brains than her own freaking boss, Amoeba asks for the secret code that proves the rude guy is a fellow spy, and he has the audacity to be surprised that she doesn't immediately spill the beans on her assignment to someone she's never met. I'm gonna headbutt my desk in two if sense isn't made here soon. Don't make me do it, book. I'm fond of that desk. With a clumsy POV jump the young man, Donald, reveals that Anne of Green Gables is the wee daughter of Thomas Carstairs, the country's top intelligence officer; since he's been killed recently on a mission, his twenty-one year-old offspring had to pick up the spy mantle instead. Despite Audio having accompanied her father on spy missions since her childhood (ARGH), and having some impressive successes that are never elaborated on under her own belt, Donald disapproves of a woman being sent to do spy work on principle and I want to staple this entire book shut. (Breathe, Oculus.) Donald also decides that Alien is intelligent simply because she had the sense to ask for a password, and knowing the things she's going to do a few chapters later, I just snapped and laughed very hard.

Anime Pillow then refuses to give her report to Donald despite him telling her to, because Oliver has apparently ordered her to only report to him, no matter what happens. I really can't decide whether this is more incompetence on Oliver's part or bad foreshadowing; we'll come back to that later. She leaves, sparing a few moments to tenderly remember her father calling the intelligence department dumb and unorganized and that makes her sad. She also mentally calls him "inefficient" for dying in wartime and frankly, I'm too bewildered by that to make a joke.

Next, our observant, competent intelligence agent heroine is out in the streets, and since she seems to have the spatial awareness of a drunk fruit bat, she walks headfirst into some random pedestrian because she's so deep in thought. God help book!England if this is how their top spies operate. Aluminum falls on her ass, and the "ruthlessly handsome" (what.) stranger hauls her back to her feet.

"Are you hurt? You ought to be!" the tall man said harshly, his fingers enclosing her arm like steel bands. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to watch where you're going?"

Ladies and laddies... meet the love interest.

No, that's not a joke. And yes, it does get worse!

Acrylic gets angry at the guy for running into her like the bus from the movie Speed and calls him several names like "dim-witted brute", and while I grudgingly agree that he's being an asshole, she's not exactly winning any brownie points in this scene either. She tries to brush him off and get back to her business, but her swearing at him (no, really, she says "damn" and I don't think the author realized that no man in 1806 would call her a lady after that like Crash Dummy here does) charms him so much that he grabs her arm and refuses to let her leave. Meanwhile I'm doing the Dance of Seven Red Flags in the corner of this entire scene because Jesus Christ, book.

Despite Anaconda being genuinely afraid of the guy at this point, he actually apologizes to her, and him saying "I am sorry, brat" dazzles her so much that she totally forgets the alarm bells that had her reaching for her gun not three seconds ago, and lets him hold her for a bit. You do that, Animorphs. She apologizes for being rude too, and then he freaks me the fuck out.

Then, he released her abruptly. "Yes, go before I..." He chuckled suddenly. "Never mind. Go."

Before you what, dude? BEFORE YOU WHAT?!

For whatever reason, Action Movie doesn't punch him in the family jewels after that, and simply leaves to hail a hackney to the Pelham abode. On her way back she tries to think about her mission, but finds that the encounter is still "working strangely on the rhythm of her heartbeat". I buy that – I'd have a pulse of 300 too if I ran into a creep like that alone in the evening. No, actually, she's so bewitched by his rudeness and terrifying pushiness that she forgets to even check if she was followed home. I need a freaking drink... and better make that something strong like Pepsi. (I don't drink booze, for the record.)

Anyway, Algae doesn't notice a man waiting for her in a shadow until he jumps out at her and grabs her – keep up the good work, ma'am – but she karate chops her way free of his grip and points her gun at him. Luckily for both parties, he turns out to be here simply to hand her a sealed envelope, then flounces off. Agony goes up to her bedroom, opens the envelope and finds a letter inside, written in the secret code she and her dad invented to communicate with each other. Since there's clearly no way someone had beaten or tricked the code out of him, or had simply intercepted a message and decoded it without personally interacting with him, it could only mean that Audition's pater is alive!

Insert the Dramatic Prairie Dog here if you're so inclined, dear readers; I'm just off to find myself some Pepsi. What a year this first chapter has been.

See you next time!