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(Barlow and Krentz 1992: passim). Just as important, however, Shakespeare and his plays facilitate the creation of both character-driven obstacles and romantic enablers, while establishing accessible historical escapism. As a result, these novels often reconstruct the plays, in whole or in part, within a predominantly female genre, predominantly read by women, in ways that challenge both canon and patriarchy.

Shakespeare’s noticeable presence in romance originates with British novelist Georgette Heyer, who founded the Regency romance. Heyer’s complex, often unmarked, appropriations of Shakespeare set the stage for subsequent, less subtle incorporations. In her Friday’s Child (1944), Heyer invokes and punctures Shakespeare’s authority when Hero Wantage admits that her name comes from Shakespeare. Her companions are doubly horrified, first that Hero might be a bluestocking (her husband of convenience hastily disclaims any intellectual tendencies in his new bride) and second, that they might actually be forced to watch one of his plays. In Black Sheep (1967), Heyer initiates Shakespearean gender reversals in romance with Miles Calverleigh’s declaration to Abigail Wendower. He offers an entirely appropriate comment from Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well: “‘I was always a poor hand at making flowery speeches.’ He smiled at her again a little ruefully. ‘That I should love a bright particular star’” (Heyer 1967:161; 1.1.81). Whereas Helena laments that her low social class puts the man she loves beyond her reach, Miles, the black sheep in question, acknowledges that he is unsuitable because of his youthful transgressions rather than his social class. More subversively, in Sprig Muslin (1956) Heyer invokes Romeo and Juliet’s balcony scene, underscoring how far from the starcrossed lovers are the wilful Amanda and her would-be rescuer:

Perched on a stable-ladder, a modern Romeo and his Juliet discussed ways and means. It did not take them long to discard the trappings of convention. “Oh, I wish you will not call me Miss Smith!” said Juliet. “Amanda!” breathed Mr. Ross reverently. ‘‘And my name is Hildebrand.”

(Heyer 1956:165)

As quickly as the pair abandons convention, Heyer moves on from the Shakespearean allusion that mocks rather than supports romantic illusions.

Heyer’s The Unknown Ajax (1959) invokes Shakespeare in the title and playfully inverts the prejudices against Ajax that abound in

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