Yes, I told myself, I am an author of Civil War fiction—who has tossed into his own work a modicum of “love scenes”—and the premise of Graham’s Rebel, set during the early years of the Civil War, had interesting possibilities. Therefore, I determined, I would not judge a book by its cover . . .

But when the cover art features a bare-chested Fabio-type holding in his muscular arms a blond bomb-shell in skin-tight leather pants (right, like ANY woman during the Civil War dressed like that) I had my doubts whether I could do so. (Who commissions these artists, anyway?—and why? Alas, another question for another forum.)

Anyway . . . Rebel is the tale of the young and beautiful Alaina McMann, a headstrong woman in Florida who, for a variety of reasons, comes to detest the Union army and sides with the South when war erupts. Unfortunately for Alaina, her husband, the dashing and equally bullheaded Ian McKenzie, is an army officer who stays true to the United States, despite his own Southern upbringing.

The story opens in May of 1862 as Union Major Ian McKenzie (known as the Panther for his daring escapades along Florida’s southeastern coast) and his small company of men find themselves hot on the trail of the Mocassin, a rebel spy who has, thus far, eluded capture. I’ll give you just one guess as to the Mocassin’s identity—don’t worry, I’m giving nothing away that isn’t clear by the end of the Prologue. Which brings me to my first problem . . .

This revelation, I wholeheartedly believe, was a major error on the part of the author. By showing us almost from the first page that Alaina McMann McKenzie is the dreaded Mocassin, Graham robbed her readers of the opportunity to ask themselves “Is she or isn’t she?” I, for one, missed the tension and suspense that would have accompanied the “not knowing.” Instead, what we have sandwiched between the Prologue and the final chapter (which, apart from a few additional scenes, is basically a replay of the Prologue, including much of the same words and dialogue) is one long series of flashbacks. Unfortunately, to sustain the tale, Graham relied too heavily on the sexual tension between “husband and wife” when a healthy dose of mystery would have truly set this story apart.

Aside from this, I do have additional problems with Rebel . . .

Research! Yes, although the research is adequate at best, several errors slipped through the cracks—the most glaring is the mention of President Van Buren instead of Buchanan. For shame!

Now let’s discuss believability for a moment, shall we? Within hours of their initial meeting, Alaina and Ian are forced into a hasty marriage, brought about when they are caught in a compromising situation (that situation, in and of itself, was far too coincidental for comfort—downright laughable, really). Now, come on, we have two supposedly intelligent characters, and they could think of no alternative to avoid a scandal except by taking the plunge (for anyone who has read Rebel, this play on words was definitely intended). As a reader, I will buy many scenarios, but not implausible scenarios. If, when reading, I find myself groaning aloud, then something is definitely wrong. I’m certainly not saying everything in Rebel is groan-worthy—indeed, both Alaina’s pro-Southern sentiments and Ian’s pro-Union feelings have a ring of truth to them, and in this respect, Graham should be commended for laying such fine groundwork—but the unbelievability of the aforementioned scenario, as well as several others, left a bad taste in my mouth. I simply could not buy it.

To present and future authors, let my final problem with Rebel stand as a lesson in what not to do when writing your masterpiece. Apart from Alaina and Ian, I had trouble with the character names. A minor quibble, you might say, and you would usually be correct, but not when you find yourself utterly confused and hardpressed to follow the story. (I should have been warned—it is usually a bad sign when a “Family Tree” is included.) For instance, we are confronted (occasionally in the same scene) with a Jarret, a James, a Julian, a Jerome, and a Jennifer. Then there’s a Tara, a Tia, a Teela, a Rose and a Risa. Surnames also pose a problem, with a McMann, a McKenzie, and a Magee. (More than once, Graham, herself, called her leading lady by the incorrect surname, which makes me wonder whether the author did not have access to her own family-tree diagram.) Regardless, it created a problem, an irritating one, and authors should avoid falling into this trap.

I suppose you will probably surmise that I was not too crazy about this book. You would be right. Mind you, it was certainly not the worst novel I’ve ever read—overall, the descriptions and dialogue were fairly tight, and though I thought I would scream if I encountered yet another version of the word “fire” during the various love scenes, Graham does well in developing her characters. It’s simply the implausible scenarios I question, and the forfeiting of rich suspence in favor of the all-too-easy sexual tension. This might be enough to encourage a reader to seek out more of Graham’s work, but, frankly, I think I’ll pass.