Breath Of Magic cover, Breath of Magic

Breath Of Magic

Teresa Medeiros

Though marketed as fantasy romance, (or perhaps time travel romance) to be absolutely technical here...at least using the sf/fantasy categories in place long before ``paranormal'' romances hit the shelves---this book is science fiction. I try not to give away the stories when I write reviews (though given the predictable outcomes of romances, this can sometimes be rather difficult) but some of the major problems I had with this book come out of its internal logic.

Arian Whitewood, daughter of a whore, granddaughter of a french white witch, is about to drown after demonstrating for the Salem town's minister that she can indeed ride a broom---instead manages to propel herself into 300 years into future, falling quite literally into ``boy billionaire'' Triston Lennox's arms. He's just offered a million dollars to anyone who can prove the existance of magic. Having just undergone one disastrous experience with magic, Arian wavers between attempting to collect the money so she can live in a little french cottage and perfect her skills, and pretending (with the expected humorous results) to be a modern woman without the faintest idea of what magic is.

Ditzy as she occasionally is, it was the computer wizard and business wonder Tristan who really set my hackles up. At first, I thought the author was attempting two mutually exclusive goals: ---one to make him a sexy, attractive, hard-edged and supremely successful business man. Obviously he, like several other well off male protagonists I've encountered in contemporary romances, is modeled on Bill Gates. What is the attraction, folks? He'd make a nice model for a robber baron, since that's what he is.

Like Mr. Gates, Tristan is a (former) computer nerd; unlike the real man, he's gorgeous, and has completely buried his nerddom underneath $2000 suits. He owns silk ties by the 100s, and enough silk pyjamas so he'd only have to wash 'em once a year (based on changing weekly---your mileage may vary). Alas, authorly admiration of his conspicious consumption clashes with her middle class humor: Tristan takes Arian off to Bloomie's, where a salesclerk that coarse and rude as depicted in the book wouldn't have been hired, and certainly would've been canned her first day on the job had she managed to slip through the screening process.

Once they get past the clerk's rotten behavior, Arian picks all black clothes---expensive designer clothes, naturally, but all Christian observes about her little black dress and other outfits is that she might have well gotten it at the local resale shop. Or the rummage sale. Now if the man actually appreciates those Oxxford suits he's wearing, then he perfectly well ought to know why that expensive ready to wear costs so much. But I finally came to the conclusion that the character wasn't just based upon Gates, but upon some of the flamboyant noveaux riches who grace the society pages. Donald Trump comes to mind---ah yes, another really admirable character.

One the one hand the author brings her middle class sensibilities to bear upon the ostentatiously rich, and her sly digs along those lines provide much of the book's humor, some of it really rather biting. The problem, of course, is that Tristan is supposed to be supremely confident and successful, but such people are not nearly as much fun to cariacature. So, though he's always handsome and impeccably dressed, one can't wondering why if he's so clever he puts up with the almost universally incompetent people employed at his supposedly super-successful firm. However, once I realized that the author was simultaneously satirizing the mega-rich, that made sense, and I simply accepted the inconsistancy as a limitation of the novel's conflicting goals. (Rather like accepting a young woman actively practicing witchcraft during in Salem during the 1600s---people simply didn't mess about with their religion back then, something I've noticed modern romance authors do not seem to understand.)

Not having read very many historicals, and having a dismal knowledge of history, I tend to be somewhat tolerant of romance novelists' failings in this area. Unfortunately the same is not true for the science fiction and fantasy genre, for which I was an avid reader for many years. So what about the logic behind Arian's magic? Those of you who don't wish to have the mechanism of her time travel given away should skip to the concluding paragraph of this essay, though frankly it's so bad that perhaps knowing ahead of time will soften the disappointment.

She has a special amulet. Okay, no sweat. Oh, wait, it's not magic: it's a confection of miniature circuitry containing ``the ability to convert thought energy into matter.'' Thought energy? (p.234) (Ah, never mind.) And a pair of college kids (oh, now we need to copy Woz and Jobs) manage this little feat. In the 80s. Does anybody remember how big and clunky computers were in the 80s? The technology implicit in this device doesn't exist now, probably (if ever) won't exist for centuries, and it certainly didn't exist in the 80s. No matter how great a genius one is, the level of technology has to support its manufacture. This is so appallingly insulting that I wonder the author had the chutzpah to write it.

If however, one can accept this extremely major flaw, the book is readable enough, helped by the humor (I especially liked the character name White Lize) and decent chemistry between the characters. The mystery behind Tristan's brooding personality does actually make sense, and I didn't immediately guess who the villains were. Two stars.

Sylvus Tarn

Last modified: Thu Sep 10 23:24:18 EDT 1998

Sylvus Tarn