"How do I feel about this?", booklikes? I'm fucking writing about it, aren't it?
I've been deviled by a bad stomach ache for a while so I have little patience for twits, twats, and twerps, and so far, there's been too many of them out of range. So, I have decided to torture anybody who stumbles over this.
Grace Ingram wrote, I believe, six books under that name and her real name, Doris Sutcliffe Adams. Her writing is as tart as her characters, who are a no-nonsense lot with little pockets of hopes and vulnerabilities. In the case of the romantic leads, those intimate little bits are discovered, revealed, and respected by the romantic foil. This is both refreshing and touching.
Adams/Ingram is the sort of fiction writer who actually had the odd footnote in her writing. Her atmosphere is vivid, her plots serveiceable, but the whole is greater than the parts. She captures the tone and flavor of the times in a way that only Elizabeth Chadwick or Naomi Novik has done, of more recent writers. Patricia C. Wrede's "Sorcery and Cecilia" was another good one, but really, no competition.
Ingram/Sutcliffe's books are like a recipe where every flavor blends into a whole in a way that is hard to duplicate or describe.
My hope is that enough people will request her books on Kindle to cause a re-issue. The rare paperback you can find these days goes for anywhere from $50 to $500 dollars. Yes, that's correct.