Madeleine E. Robins

The action of Point of Honour takes place in an alt-Regency England: one where there’s a Queen-Regent (because Prinny’s only and acknowledged marriage is to Mrs Fitzherbert), where Fallen Women take noms d’amour (like Miss Tolerance), and where women have their own clubs just as the men have Brook’s or Boodle’s (and where Miss Tolerance, who supports herself as an Agent of Inquiry rather than as a prostitute, meets her clients).

I really enjoyed this! It’s a nice mash-up of show more Austen/mystery noir/historical romp—gowns! murders! escapes on horseback!—which was exactly what I was in the mood for. The lead character, Sarah Tolerance, is methodical and practical and skilled with a sword, but Madeleine Robins doesn’t fall into the trap of having her be Not Like the Other Girls or Ahead of Her Time. There’s a matter-of-fact reference, for instance, to her sitting and darning a basket of socks which I appreciated, because of course a woman living in straitened circumstances in the 1810s would be doing that herself! I also respected the fact that Robins followed through on the emotional costs of the plot.

There are a couple of wobbles with the language, though less than you normally find in Regency pastiches; other issues with the history are minor and easy to handwave as a result of the historical divergence. Overall, great fun and I will definitely be trying to track down the second book in this series. show less

Excellent - a lot of fun! OK, the situations were rather contrived - but in each case I could see why they made those choices, it was only the timing in which I could detect the author's fine Italian hand. And three times - twice in one reading session - I wondered which Georgette Heyer it was I was reading and how I'd missed it before - that's how the quality of the writing impressed me. I'm something of a historical romance snob - anachronisms really bother me. Didn't see a one here show more (doesn't mean there aren't any, but there weren't any I could detect). The characters - the main ones, at least - are solid and well-realized; the secondary ones are somewhat simpler, but no one acts against character throughout. Poor Olivia, and poor Matthew! What a twist John put into their lives. But it all came out right (well, it is a romance, after all) - the appropriate people paired off, because, or in spite of, all the plots and plans. I really hope that some of Robins' other Regency romances are about this family - I'd love to see Kit's and Bette's stories, and even the Duke's. Fun! I'm really sorry it took me this long to get around to my ER books by her. show less

This third installment in the alt-historical adventures of Miss Sarah Tolerance finds our heroine tasked with tracking down a young woman who's eloped from her father's house. Miss Tolerance's search for the missing Evadne brings her into contact with the seedier side of Regency London. The Sleeping Partner has more grit to it than the previous two books—this is a kind of "Regency noir"—and higher emotional stakes than the second one. Madeleine Robins has a knack for creating a heroine show more who is independent-minded enough to walk her own path, but is not unrealistically anachronistic in her thinking (i.e., she's not Not Like the Other Girls.)

Given the lengthy gap between publications and the change in publishers, I fear the Sarah Tolerance books are likely to remain a trilogy. However, while Robins clearly sets up some plot points/relationship arcs here which could be picked up in future installments, The Sleeping Partner does also work as a conclusion. show less

While away on a business trip, New Yorker John Tietjen learns that something has happened to his city. Fleeing survivors tell a garbled story of widespread destruction and violence, but it's not until Tietjen fights his way into the city that he gains some sense of New York City's apocalyptic fate -- and what he can do to stand against it.

The Stone War was excellent and unflinching. Every time the possibility for a pat or cliched resolution arises, the novel resolutely turns away and pushes show more deeper into the dark and unpredictable. And what's marvelous is that, despite the horror and the misery, the novel itself isn't grim. Instead, it's a glowing examination about the need for community against the threat of brutality and estrangement. I'm not sure I accept the denouement, in which the novel attempts to assign its phantasmagorical terrors to a concrete agent, but I'll agree that the conclusion is consistent with the rest of the book. show less