Six Old-School Romances for Valentine's Day
Some of my favourite romantic novels - all downloadable for free from Project Gutenberg
I’m pretty on the fence about Valentine’s Day - I don’t hate it but nor am I rushing out to get my hands on a dozen long-stemmed red roses. But even if you loathe it with every fibre of your being and would rather be seen dead than at your local pub’s £100-per-head steak & oysterfest, there’s no harm in getting a little literary romance in from time to time (and let’s face it, sometimes fictional lovers are preferable to real ones).
Here are some of my personal favourites - these are books that I come back to again and again when I’m after a comfort read. And best of all, they’re all free to download from the Project Gutenberg website.
The Melting of Molly by Maria Thompson Daviess
Move over Bridget Jones - this book shows that the diet-tracking diarist is by no means a new phenomenon. Follow the fortunes of widowed Molly as she desperately tries to fit into THAT dress in order to impress a former admirer; a scenario that many of us, sadly, will be no stranger to. But with her other gentleman callers buzzing around.
Read if: You’re after something fun and frothy, with some mouthwatering Southern food descriptions.
Avoid if: Your mind is set on higher things than fashion, food and flirting with eligible bachelors.
The very worst page in this red—red devil—I'm glad I've written it at last—of a book is the fifth. It says:
"Breakfast—one slice of dry toast, one egg, fruit and a tablespoonful of baked cereal, small cup of coffee, no sugar, no cream." And me with two Jersey cows full of the richest cream in Hillsboro, Harpeth Valley, out in my pasture!
"Dinner, one small lean chop, slice of toast, spinach, green beans and lettuce salad. No dessert or sweet." The blue-grass in my yard is full of fat little fryers and I wish I were a sheep if I have to eat lettuce and spinach for grass. At least I'd have more than one chop inside me then.
"Supper—slice of toast and an apple." Why the apple? Why supper at all?
Oh, I'm hungry, hungry until I cry in my sleep when I dream about a muffin!
The Twenty-Fourth of June: Midsummer’s Day by Grace S. Richmond
A swooningly emotional romance from 1914, this story follows poor little rich boy Mr Kendrick (who is literally called Rich) as he attempts to win the heart of the beautiful and virtuous Roberta - redeeming his own life and personal relationships in the process. This is more fun to read than I’m making it sound; there’s quite a lot of zooming around in powerful motor cars and Business with a capital B to enjoy as well.
Read if: You love a billionaire romance and are in the market for a happy cry.
Avoid if: You have a very low tolerance for anything soppy or sentimental.
"Look at Rob and Mr. Kendrick," said Ruth in Rosamond's ear. "Aren't they the most wonderful pair you ever saw? They look as if they were made for each other."
"Don't tell Rob that," Rosamond warned her enthusiastic sister-in-law. "She would never dance with him again."
"I can't think what makes her dislike him so. Look at her face—turned just as far away as she can get it. And she never speaks to him at all. I've been watching them."
"It won't hurt him to be disliked a little," declared Mrs. Stephen wisely. "It's probably the first time in his life a girl has ever turned away her head—except to turn it back again instantly to see if he observed."
Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster
The Love Actually of romance novels - no, not because of the plot but because it’s one of those books that seems terribly romantic when you’re younger, and slightly creepy when you’re older. This is the touching tale of orphaned Judy, whose life is changed when an unknown benefactor offers her the funds to attend college. Think of an epistolary Little Orphan Annie but with more lacrosse and Latin.
Read if: You love school stories and would prefer the romance not to interfere too much.
Avoid if: You’re not a fan of the ‘novel of letters’ format.
Dear Kind-Trustee-Who-Sends-Orphans-to-College,
Here I am! I traveled yesterday for four hours in a train. It's a funny sensation isn’t it? I never rode in one before…
I have been thinking about you a great deal this summer; having somebody take an interest in me after all these years, makes me feel as though I had found a sort of family. It seems as though I belonged to somebody now, and it's a very comfortable sensation. I must say, however, that when I think about you, my imagination has very little to work upon. There are just three things that I know:
I. You are tall.
II. You are rich.
III. You hate girls.
Anne of the Island by L. M. Montgomery
The one where Anne and Gilbert (surely the sexiest of all names) grow up and go to college - cue less rhapsodising about fairy rings and more talk about academic awards and potential husbands (depending on your views this may, or may not, be an improvement). But will Gilbert finally get the girl of his dreams? Or will Anne be tempted away by her handsome beau, Roy? I think you can probably guess the answer, but I won’t give it away here.
Read if: You’ve been an Anne/Gilbert ‘shipper since he first called her ‘Carrots’ in Anne of Green Gables.
Avoid if: You don’t know the earlier books - you’ll enjoy it more if you read them in order.
As for Roy, of course she was in love with him—madly so. How could she help it? Was he not her ideal? Who could resist those glorious dark eyes, and that pleading voice? Were not half the Redmond girls wildly envious? And what a charming sonnet he had sent her, with a box of violets, on her birthday! Anne knew every word of it by heart. It was very good stuff of its kind, too. Not exactly up to the level of Keats or Shakespeare—even Anne was not so deeply in love as to think that. But it was very tolerable magazine verse. And it was addressed to her—not to Laura or Beatrice or the Maid of Athens, but to her, Anne Shirley. To be told in rhythmical cadences that her eyes were stars of the morning—that her cheek had the flush it stole from the sunrise—that her lips were redder than the roses of Paradise, was thrillingly romantic. Gilbert would never have dreamed of writing a sonnet to her eyebrows.
An Old Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott
One of Alcott’s more praiseworthy non-Little Women efforts, this follows the fortunes of modest Polly and her wealthy friends, the Shaws. The book is split into two parts, the first taking place during Polly’s visit to the family as a younger girl, and the second following her move to the same city as an adult to earn her own living. Lots to enjoy here, despite a certain amount of moralising about money not being everything, and how important it is to be polite to your parents (tbf, she’s not wrong there).
Read if: You love Little Women but have already read it 87 times.
Avoid if: You don’t like to read Books for Young People, and prefer your heroines more Becky Sharp than Cinderella.
“Lunacy is mighty becoming, Polly. Try it again,” answered Tom, watching her as she went laughing away, looking all the prettier for her dishevelment. “Dress that girl up, and she'd be a raving, tearing beauty,” added Tom to Maud in a lower tone as he look her into the parlor under his arm.
Polly heard it and instantly resolved to be as “raving and as tearing” as her means would allow, “just for one night,” she said as she peeped over the banisters, glad to see that the dance and the race had taken the “band-boxy” air out of Tom's elegant array.
I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such of my readers as have a prejudice in favor of pure English by expressions like the above, but, having rashly undertaken to write a little story about Young America, for Young America, I feel bound to depict my honored patrons as faithfully as my limited powers permit. Otherwise, I must expect the crushing criticism, “Well, I dare say it's all very prim and proper, but it isn't a bit like us,” and never hope to arrive at the distinction of finding the covers of “An Old-Fashioned Girl” the dirtiest in the library.
The Lady of the Basement Flat by Mrs George de Horne Vaizey
This book hinges around the (frankly ludicrous) plot of the main character disguising herself as an old lady in order to help out the distressed gentlefolk of a block of flats in West London, after her sister marries and moves abroad. But first of all she heads off for a period of R&R in the countryside with her mysterious friend Charmion, and butts heads with the local Squire. Many unlikely coincidences and humorous high-jinks ensue.
Read if: You’re a fan of the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope and enjoy a Real Man and a Womanly Woman.
Avoid if: You find that silly plotlines ruin a book for you.
I am not thinking of marriage. Some day I shall probably fall in love, like everyone else, and be prepared to go off to the Ural Mountains or Kamtschatka, or any other remote spot, for the privilege of accompanying my Jock. I shall probably be just as mad, and deluded, and happy, and ridiculous as any other girl, when my turn comes; but it hasn’t come yet, and I’m not going to sit still and twiddle my thumbs pending its approach. I’m in no hurry! It is in my mind that I should prefer a few preliminary independent years.
Aunt Eliza drove over this afternoon to “cheer me up”. She means well, but her cheering capacities are not great. Her mode of attack is first to enlarge on every possible ill, and reduce one to a state of collapse from pure self-pity, and then to proceed to waft the same troubles aside with a casual flick of the hand. She sat down beside me, stroked my hand (I hate being pawed!) and set plaintively to work.
“Poor dear! I know you are feeling desolate. It’s so hard for you, isn’t it, dear, having no other brother or sister? Makes it all the harder, doesn’t it, dear! And Kathie leant on you so! You must feel that your work is gone. Stranded! That’s the feeling, isn’t it? I do understand. But”—(sudden change to major key)—“she is happy! You must forget yourself in her joy!”
*All valentine images from the Metropolitan Museum of Art - if you enjoyed them, you can find lots more lovely ones here.
I’m a true lifelong kindred spirit with Anne (with an ‘e’) and it’s light years since I read the books. I still have my childhood copies in those orange covers and you’ve now made me go and get Anne of the Island off the shelf and have a wallow!
I've read several of these, so I'll have to check out the others! "The Melting of Molly" sounds fun. It's neat to see a Grace S. Richmond shout-out—her books feel like nice, sweet, low-key comfort reads for me.