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At fourteen, Kit St. Denys brought down his abusive father with a knife. At twenty-one his theatrical genius brought down the house. At thirty, his past—and his forbidden love—nearly brought down the curtain for good.
A compelling Victorian saga of two men whose love for each other transcends time and distance — and the society that considers it an abomination. Set in the last twenty years of the 19th century, The Phoenix is a multi-layered historical novel that illuminates poverty and child abuse, theatre history in America and England, betrayal, a crisis of conscience, violence and vengeance, and the treatment of insanity at a time when such treatment was in its infant stage. Most of all it is a tale of love on many levels, from carnal to devoted friendship to sacrifice. Editorial Reviews:
From Midwest Book Review
The Phoenix is a magnificent tour de force, a novel of searing power and grace and constant surprises as it winds its way through London and New York, the slums, high society, fancy theaters, castles, madness, and the agony of one wounded heart seeking comfort and love in the arms of another man...
From Alex Beecroft, author of Captain's Surrender
The story is a roller coaster that takes you from terrible lows to joyful heights and then back again... I was gripped throughout and left feeling very satisfied, and yet as though I needed to read it again. A definite keeper!
From Lee Benoit for Uniquely Pleasurable
Rich and thick in the best Victorian tradition, and cool and smooth as the best contemporary romances, The Phoenix is that rare bird: a convincing historical novel with a compelling modern sensibility. I can't recommend it highly enough...
From Obsidian Bookshelf
Don't miss this sweeping historical romance set in the 1890s... The highlight of the book for me is when Kit struggles to establish his theater company in New York City. It's fast-paced, often highly amusing, and digs deep enough to give you a real flavor of both the theater world and the cut-throat politics of the time.
From Toby Johnson
As I read this book, I was fascinated by the deep psychological forces in the characters' lives. The book is easy to read and thoroughly interesting and believable.
Excerpt:
Though St. Denys gave out that the handsome young man now at St. Denys Hill was a long-lost distant cousin, those in certain circles believed he was St. Denys' love child fathered upon some actress with loose morals and round heels. Far from casting a shadow upon the boy, it made him a romantic figure, and one certain someday to be extremely rich. At parties, balls, masquerades, the daughters and nieces of ambitious matrons danced and decorously flirted with Kit from behind fans, daring their chaperones to see them. Kit flirted back because they expected it.
Kit was made much of by ladies of all ages, and he had to admit he liked being their darling. He played to them as if they were an audience and he the young hero of the drama. He was pleased to discover he could make a lady, young or old, ply her fan quite vigorously if he looked into her eyes and smiled.
Gradually Kit realized that on the first Friday of each month, St. Denys hosted a social event to which he was never invited. Curiosity finally won and he spied from a balcony that went across the smallest of the ballrooms, traditionally known as the Lesser Hall. What he
saw puzzled him mightily: there were no ladies. Only men about his guardian’s age. Crouching there in the shadows, looking down, he shivered with a nameless delight at the nearness of all those men, at the rumble of masculine voices undiluted by shriller female notes. He began that night to plan how to get into the gathering, uninvited. He wondered how angry St. Denys would be, but decided it would be worth the risk.
The next Friday evening, his valet helped him dress in his best evening clothes and after he knew all the guests were present, he walked into the room as if he belonged there. A string quartet played Mozart.
The air was heady with male laughter; the smell of their pipes, the scents of their shaving soaps and colognes intoxicated his senses. His guardian was talking to a handsome black-haired man, their heads close together. St. Denys laughed at something the man said and put a hand on the man's shoulder.
Nearer the enormous fireplace a tall, large-faced man with long brown hair, regaled the small group around him. This man was the first to see Kit. He stopped talking and stared. When he did so, those around him looked to see what he was staring at. And then St. Denys and the black-haired man looked at him. Kit thought he must look a right fool for them to gawp like that. His cheeks grew hot with embarrassment.
The man with the long brown hair drifted to him and took Kit's hand in his, which was strong but unpleasantly damp. "What a lovely lad you are! A dainty blossom among us old withered weeds. You must be the… cousin… I’ve heard of. What a pity to keep you hidden away here."
Kit's mouth dropped open. 'Lovely? Dainty blossom?' Was the fool talking about him? He extricated his hand from the damp grasp.
"I cast my heart at your feet," the strange man said, spreading his fingers over his shirt bosom; "I lave my soul in the cool depths of your eyes…"
"Oscar," St. Denys said, shouldering between them, "my butler could produce better poetry than that."
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