Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey

As I was drifting off to sleep last night, I finally thought of a way to respond to this fairly thick fantasy novel.

It's something from Shakespeare in which Sir Benedict describes fair Hero after being prodded for his opinion by the lovesick Claudio.

Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.

Thus the content of this novel is too loose, another word is crude, to be thought of as a classic, too well written and well researched to be dismissed as a trashy romance novel, and too pretentious to be thought of as much fun. It has the flights of fancy and penchant for contrivance of a budding a fourteen year old author, but too well planned to be an erotic whimsy. In essence, the style is epic but the content is catering to the lowest middle aged, sex deprived denominator. Call me a prude, but it's no Dune .

Beautiful courtesan must save her country by bedding enemy and ally alike, told in exquisite detail in 700 pages. Throw in some juicy gossip conveniently renamed as politics, fancy clothes, sword fights, a love story, a crash course in anachronistic pre-modern european history and you have, Kushiel's Dart.