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[published by Popular Library; 1959]

This is a coming-of-age story about a young woman living in Charleston through 1779-82, i.e. from before the arrival of the British forces through to their repatriation near the end of the war. Celia is first introduced as the teenaged apprentice of a fashionable seamstress, self-centered and far more interested in boys and pretty gowns than politics. She is forced to grow up fast when the siege of Charleston rips her tranquil life apart. Her fiancé is critically wounded just days before their wedding, the British occupy Charleston, and everything she knows changes. Celia herself is drawn into the war and eventually acts as a spy for Francis Marion.

This is one of my favorite RevWar period novels. The story is woven seamlessly into the tapestry of historical events, and Bristow has a personable writing style. She has created a cast of rebel characters who are easy to like and root for. Celia is a bit of a brat in the beginning, but her flaws are amusing rather than irritating. Her eccentric mentor, the five-times-married (and still going strong) Vivian, is delightful. The earlier portions of the book are quite whimsical. One of its highlights is the author's version of how, exactly, Marion broke his ankle just prior to the British arrival -- and how quickly a bit of tipsy stupidity can evolve by word of mouth into a heroic legend. Celia's adventures take the reader through the grim despair of a city under siege, the horrors of a partisan war, and eventually the dangers of spying on an occupying power.

Rather than flogging "rebels good; Loyalists bad" as a universal, self-evident truth, Bristow simply looks at the war through the eyes of individuals whose personal beliefs are set that way. Much though Celia may personally hate them, the British around her aren't shown behaving like monsters. Cornwallis gets a particularly sympathetic presentation. Loyalists, as usual, get the short end of the stick, but even they get a few token bits of good press. Bristow goes so far as to grant the odd moment of humanity to individual Legionnaires, which is virtually unheard of in fiction. (For instance, she mentions the anecdote of two Legionnaires saving Mrs. Sumter from her burning house, and on another occasion has Ban facing a mini-mutiny when he steps really beyond the pale.) Actually, the only historical figures she represents as truly black-hearted villains are Ban, James Wemyss and Nisbet Balfour. Finding such a routine "Bloody Ban" in such an otherwise excellent book is disappointing, but it doesn't affect my overall enjoyment of the story.