The blurb on the cover of L.M. Jackson’s A Most Dangerous Woman reads: Victorian murder mysteries don’t come better, making me wonder if the author of the accolade had ever read another Victorian mystery in his life because I can attest to the fact that they do, in fact, come better. Our protagonist is yet another Sarah, this time a gorgeous woman with a sketchy past and a heart of gold; all the clichés of a different genre. This book is less of a mystery and more of a suspenseful adventure with a ridiculously fearless protagonist.
This book is interesting in theory as it is an example of a man using initials to obscure his gender, something that has historically been done by female authors. Something in the first chapter made me flip to the back of the book to see the author’s picture, knowing that it would show a man. Many men have done excellent jobs writing for female protagonist and creating complex and believable characters (Timothy Finlay and Philip Pullman are two of my favourites) but Jackson just does not pull it off.
I think some of my annoyance with the book is its attempt to place a noir gumshoe type story within this genre. At one point Jackson describes a crowd as clerks and their women folk (228) and later has a female character say to Sarah you aren’t the only one with a man’s courage (344), that kind if clichéd and sexist writing is boring and kicks me out of the story. The title should have warned me off in the first place (I do sometimes believe in judging a book by its cover-I often scan looking for fonts with serifs!).
Even worse, at the beginning of the book the narration seems to be coming from a character and yet is omnipotent: but what of Sarah Tanner herself? Now, there was something of a contradiction (3). If I hadn’t been excited about a truly working class hero I would have stopped reading by page 4. The truth is I could not bring myself to care about any of the characters and I actually stopped reading at after about 250 pages, which is unheard of for me, and only flipped to the end because I am writing this post. I had not guessed the outcome by the time I had stopped reading, which is positive I guess. I cannot in good conscience actually recommend this book but you can read it if you want to.
I will take this opportunity to share some advice I was given by a really terrific professor, who was quoting a reader’s advisory librarian: give a book 50 pages and don’t keep reading if it does not hold your interest; there is just too much to read out there to waste time on something that isn’t for you. Sometimes I struggle with this when I am reading a book that I am *supposed* to like but I am really trying to stick to the 50 page rule. Do you always finish reading a book or do is it easy to put one down and pick up something else?
