'BET ME' | A review Author turns clich & eacute; into smart romance
The plot revolves around a wager that sparks an engaging sparring match.
By MELINDA BARGREEN
SEATTLE TIMES
"Bet Me," by Jennifer Crusie (St. Martin's Press, $22.95)
Fans of women's fiction: If you haven't discovered Jennifer Crusie yet, get ready for a good time. She's the funniest romance writer since Mary Daheim (author of "Love's Pirate") hung up her cutlass and turned to the mystery genre. Crusie is smart and literate (her doctoral dissertation topic is "The Feminization of Enchantment: Women's Popular Fiction in Late Twentieth-Century America") and a master of fast-paced, witty dialogue.
Her new "Bet Me" is one of Crusie's best. The action starts in a bar with Minerva Dobbs, a zaftig insurance actuary, overhearing the handsome Cal Morrisey betting he can get her into bed within a month.
This is not exactly a unique plot device in romantic fiction -- in fact, amatory wagers are among the genre's hoariest clich & eacute;s -- but somehow Crusie uses the wager as a springboard for an engagingly funny long-term sparring match between two ill-matched but irresistible people.
Min is the sort of girl who, crammed into an unsuitable bridesmaid's dress, gazes at her dressing-room reflection and thinks, "I'd kill myself, but this is not the last thing I want to see before I go."
Cal is the sort of guy of whom Min thinks, "The man should be on coins. Of course, looking that beautiful, he probably never dated the terminally chubby. At least, not without sneering."
Colorful characters
This unlikely duo's path toward togetherness is a nonstop hoot. It's enlivened considerably by a highly colorful cast of supporting friends -- even if the bonds of credibility are stretched like rubber bands by Crusie's too-convenient pairing up of all of them.
Also playing an important role in this book is food, and though we hear a great deal about chicken Marsala, it's always fun to read an author whose unabashed adoration of fresh bread, Krispy Kremes and great Italian food is a celebration of life -- not a guilt trip.