This RITA® Reader Challenge review was written by PamG.

Here is PamG's review:

I had a hard time getting into Her Every Wish, and I know that it’s not about HEW, it’s about me. We all have tropes we dislike—also attitudes, characters, and tone. None of these things was a major issue, yet some shade of each made the novella a slog for me at times, particularly in the opening chapters. Needless to say, my reaction made grading problematic as well.

I really love Courtney Milan’s writing. Her prose manages to evoke time and place beautifully, while remaining spare, precise, and not the least bit purple. Her characters and situations tend to be original and, in her hands, established tropes become fresh and vital. For instance, HEW could be labeled “second chance at love,” yet trope was the last thing I thought of until I deliberately started rooting around for ways to approach this novella. The romance plot line deals with a couple who have been together in the past, have parted painfully, and are reunited by circumstances. However, the relationship is not at first the central event of the story. Daisy’s desire to claim a bequest of fifty pounds to be given for the best business plan, and therefore, secure her future is the driving force behind the novella. Her ended relationship with Crash, a local wheeler dealer, is a personal source of pain and a major factor in her low expectations of herself and her life. The romance is a more subtle thread woven through the story of Daisy’s efforts and Crash’s attempts to support them.

The romance as well as the central sequence of events fit the shorter form of the novella quite well, though there were elements that I would have liked to have seen more of. The competition for the bequest is presented as a kind of nineteenth century Shark Tank with Daisy as chum, and events between Daisy’s initial presentation and the final decision make a nice compact story arc. The prose is in the third person with Daisy’s POV sort of unofficially dominating. Daisy’s very well-researched plan (and dream) is to establish an Emporium catering to working class women.

Needless to say, her presence among the competitors is not well-received. After all, as a woman, how dare she pit herself against the menfolk who presumably have families to support—never mind that women support families too. I’m not going to say much more about the competition, because it would be impossible to avoid spoilers. The Shark Tank impression is really just a passing resemblance, and Milan does a good job making the proceedings seem probable and authentic without a lot of jarring twenty-first century cultural references.

Characterization is typically one of the strengths of Milan’s writing, and for the most part this book lives up to these high expectations. Crash is a wonderful character, brash and ambitious with a core of hardheaded practicality offset by a very real kindness. He is also something of an entrepreneur, though he has no qualms about dabbling in the shady side of business. He’s described as a hustler, always nursing a profitable side bet or entertaining the ladies, but his closest companion is his velocipede. The proto-bike almost becomes a character in the story. Raised by his Auntie, Crash has come to adulthood with an extremely sound sense of his own value and fierce loyalty to his small family. He is the product of multiple ethnicities and yet he is never defined solely by skin color or ancestry. His aunt and her card-playing circle of friends are strong women of lively intelligence and sharp humor. I did regret not spending more page time in their company, but attributed it to the novella format.

Daisy is a believable mixture of hope and determination in the face of implacable difficulties. She’s hard-working and responsible, with a lot of practical creativity, caring for her intermittently sick mother despite those who advise her to shed this burden. Daisy’s employment in a flower shop has a use-by date determined by her youth and prettiness, and her intention to win the bequest is fueled by awareness of the limited options for her and her mother. Her deepest grief is for the virginity lost to Crash in more hopeful times, also a limitation on her available options. There is a sense of desperation underlying most of Daisy’s thoughts and actions as well as despair alternating with irrational hope. It’s hard not to sympathize with Daisy as she struggles against the limitations placed on women. Somehow, I managed it though. Truth to tell, Daisy was a major source of difficulty for me.

The reader first meets Crash as Daisy spots him surrounded by women, one of whom asks him in a teeth gritting moment, what he is. Crash handles it. To begin with, he is “not a pineapple,” and finally, he is “one hundred percent pure perfection.” In these moments, Daisy ruminates on how he has hurt her, yet Crash establishes himself as a sympathetic and entertaining personage of considerable pride. When Daisy isn’t contemplating her financial insecurity, she mourns what she had with her first and former lover. She is perceptive enough to realize that Crash will not appreciate the woman’s question, but admits her own fascination with the mystery of his appearance. All of this happens in a bare couple of pages, yet is packed with both factual and emotional information. Milan doesn’t deal in wasted words and that is one of her coolest qualities as an author. Later, when Crash approaches Daisy, she is far less fascinated.

Crash was a man who had mastered the speaking glance. This one could have been an epic saga. It was the unshakeable look that a farm lad gave to his sweetheart when she was sentenced to be fed to a dragon. Don’t worry, it promised. I’ll save you. I’ve a plan.

It was the kind of look that would have that blushing farm girl spreading her legs for her love in the barn the night before she was condemned to die. She’d give up her virginity, her trust, her love, her future in one trembling hour. When she bid her swain farewell through tears and kisses, she would believe in her soul that he was going to kill the beast. She’d believe he would save her until the dragon crunched her between its teeth.

While that farm boy and dragon make a nice metaphor for the pitfalls in a girl’s life, they also suggest—to me at least—that Daisy equates love with rescue. While it’s understandable in the context of the times, I have a problem with that, especially later, when one realizes that Daisy isn’t entirely guiltless in the break up. The romance only heats up when Daisy and Crash really start to talk.

Daisy is much more engaging when she is speaking in her own voice. Then the spirit that apparently attracted Crash in the first place becomes apparent. Whether she’s putting him in his place or mocking his velocipede, her cleverness and feistiness rise to the surface. When Daisy and Crash speak to one another, they spark with energy. (So does his Auntie.) Whether in argument or explanation, the language dazzles and brings them to the brink of true understanding. At one point Crash has a long series of near monologues that I would love to hear declaimed from a stage. In it, he answers the importunate woman’s earlier question fully and spectacularly and only for Daisy. Really gave my highlighter a workout, but quoting it out of context would just spoil it for future readers.

I have two basic problems with Her Every Wish. One is Daisy. No matter how sympathetic I felt toward her circumstances, no matter how well I understood the societal context of her problems, no matter how much admiration I had for her willingness to keep fighting for her dreams in the face of active hostility, I just had a hard time liking her. For most of the story, she displays her whiny, needy side more than her strengths, and justifiable or not, I just couldn’t get fully into it. Rationally, I got it; emotionally, not so much.

Part of the reason for my response is that Daisy’s constant contemplation of her troubles seems to reduce her to the sum of her troubles. We know she’s pretty; we know she loves her mum; we know she’s poor; and we know she can research a business plan, but there’s a shortage of the small details that make a character lifelike and likeable. She was too much of an Eyore for me, and I’ve always preferred Tigger. Maybe that’s why I thought she was at her best when interacting with Crash, ‘cuz he is totally Tiggerific.

The other problem I had—and I think it’s related to my lack of bonding with Daisy—has to do with the tone of the novella. When the story opens, Daisy laments her inability to win the bequest even as she pushes herself forward to take her place among the semifinalists. The crowd gathered to watch the proceedings is viciously hostile towards Daisy primarily because of her gender. The scene really hammers home the inequality and invisibility of poor women in this society. Milan tackles nineteenth century sexism, classism, and racism—a big order for a short piece of fiction–and it’s mostly very effective.

However, I like my historical & social background relayed subtly, through the protagonists and action that shows rather than tells. There was nothing subtle about Daisy, and the tone of that first chapter was just a mite more didactic than I like. At first Daisy seemed more like a symbol of all the injustice that burdened working class women and not a fully fleshed out character. The crowd lobs horseshit at her, and I get the picture; her life totally sucks. Yet even when Crash appears in the distance dealing with the poop slinger, she continues to droop.

But none of her wishes ever came true. It wasn’t fair, but it was her life, and she was used to it.

Well, yeah, she’s right, but how many times does she have to say this. When I have to read the constant reiteration of her afflictions, I start to wonder if I’m being preached at. It didn’t continue through the entire novella, and moaning wasn’t all she did, but it definitely shaded my response to the book.

In the end, I had to give this a B grade. In many ways it deserves a solid A, but sometimes minor problems have a major influence on one’s opinion, and it’s quite possible that others may respond the same way and need a head’s up. I might reread this at some point, but if I were in a Courtney Milan mood, there are probably other things I would read first. Readers looking for a well-written Victorian romance (with a great reconciliation scene) featuring diverse, working class characters, social issues, and velocipedes, need look no further.