Robins, Madeleine E.: Point of Honour and Petty Treason

Madeline E. Robins’ Point of Honour opens with the statement that “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Fallen Woman of good family must, soon or late, descend to whoredom,” and spends the rest of its pages proving it wrong. It is Austen noir, with all that such a juxtaposition implies, and is both admirable and entirely enjoyable (as is its sequel, Petty Treason).

The protagonist, Sarah Tolerance, declines to conform to truths universally acknowledged, and so forges a career as an “agent of inquiry” instead of working in her aunt’s brothel. (The setting is tweaked just very slightly from our history to make this career not impossible, though still looked at askance.) What seems a simple matter, the retrieval of an Italian fan, turns much nastier (as would be expected in a noir) and brings into Miss Tolerance’s life an attractive, high-ranking, and wealthy man (as would be expected in a Regency). Where the book goes from there, and how it negotiates these genres—is something I will leave the reader to discover. I will say, however, that I deeply admire the ending.

In the sequel, Petty Treason, the publicity that Miss Tolerance gained from the prior case results in her hire to investigate a murder, that of a Chevalier who turns out to be a thoroughly nasty piece of work. His wife comes under suspicion, which is one of the meanings of the title: petty or petit treason was the English common-law offense of a husband’s murder by a wife, which according to the thought of the time paralleled high treason’s betrayal of a sovereign by a subject. As with the first book’s examination of prostitution, however, this book finds many different meanings of treason, often ones unacknowledged by society of the time. Fear not, however, Miss Tolerance is not a twenty-first-century feminist dressed in Regency clothes. Indeed, one of the functions of the omniscient narration is to highlight Miss Tolerance’s different ways of thinking, by contrasting it with the narration’s opinion. (For those who dislike omniscient, it’s rarely obvious: most of the time the narration is indistinguishable from tight third. Also, I have to say that a novel has done a really good job of worldbuilding when “Fuck” is genuinely shocking.)

If it were just the great premise, and the way it’s followed through on—both careful and fun, with verbal and literal fencing—that would be sufficient. But the characters are also vivid and rounded. I particularly like that Miss Tolerance has existing relationships as the books open, ones that evolve along with her during the course of the books. Unfortunately it appears there will not be a third book, so these relationships will not be further developed. (Both books are still available in paperback from Amazon, despite my taking an appalling amount of time to get around to writing them up.)

Finally, fans of Kate Ross’s Julian Kestrel series may well like these books, though I think they better handle the contrast between, and the convergence of, the glittering and seamy sides of Regency England. Fans of fantasy of manners should definitely check these out, unless the lack of fantasy and of a sparkling tone is an impossible barrier. I think very highly of these books, and (paradoxically) it’s been that high opinion that kept me from timely booklogging them. I hope that this belated report will nevertheless help the books find some more appreciative readers.