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I was unimpressed by Dangerous Alliance: An Austentacious Romance by Jennieke Cohen, despite a summary promising mystery, romance, and Jane Austen-related fun:

Lady Victoria "Vicky" Aston has everything she could every want: an older sister (Althea) happily wed, the future of her family estate secure, and ample opportunity to while her time away in the fields around her home. But when her sister returns to their home and reveals brutal abuse at the hands of her husband, the situation sours. A divorce is difficult to obtain, and with her sister's violent husband roaming freely, the family must obscure Althea having left her husband for the sake of her own reputation. The trouble is, women cannot be named as inheritors, meaning Vicky must marry quickly so her sister's cruel husband cannot inherit her family's land, home, and wealth. Armed only with the wisdom she has gained from her beloved Jane Austen novels, she enters society’s season. As her situation get more critical, Vicky struggles to identify who she can really trust with her heart--the roguish Mr. Carmichael, her former best friend, Tom Sherborne, or the foppish Mr. Silby. Most unfortunate of all are the mysterious accidents cropping up around her…ones that could prevent her from surviving until her wedding day.

First, a nitpicky peccadillo: the title doesn't connect very well to the plot. I would not classify any of the relationships in this book as an "alliance". While there is plenty of danger--abuse, bandits, kidnappings, shootings, carriage accidents, life-ruining gossip, pugilism, and many, many injuries--the frequency with which these incidents occur and the refusal to explore their lasting impacts (other than as an excuse for the male lead's refusal to analyze and/or communicate his feelings) culminates in 400 pages of wilting stakes and a complete absence of suspense. My other quibbles are as follows:

THE WRITING STYLE

The author relies heavily on telling instead of showing, with sentences structured repetitively: "She did this. She walked there. She felt that." Fight scenes are written more as a record of movements as opposed to appealing to the senses, and when not relying on simple phrasing, she appears to choose vocabulary based on what sounds most "regency-like", as opposed to what is the most effusive or incites a certain emotion in the reader. Misunderstandings and miscommunications are dragged out and then their solutions explained in an overcomplicated manner. In contrast, more serious topics like physical and sexual abuse are portrayed almost exclusively through implication and rarely explored in a meaningful way, especially when it comes to Tom's backstory.

The most interesting plot point (what is and isn't possible regarding divorce) receives little attention once the dating game starts, which is a huge shame. The author's historical notes in the back about divorce laws and customs during this time period were more fun to read than the actual story.

THE JANE AUSTEN ANGLE

Despite the name drop in the subtitle, I did not see a significant overlap between Dangerous Alliance and any of Jane Austen's works. A romance that takes place during the regency era with a focus on the marriage market isn't enough to make that comparison, in my opinion. There are copious intertextual references to Jane Austen's works, but all are surface-level, throwaway references. I wish the the characters had engaged with Austen's texts to aid in their decision-making or that the author had used those references to reveal a character's values instead (for example, if a husband candidate seemed lovely but judged Anne's initial rejection of Wentworth in Persuasion, exposing his ignorance of the female experience in regency-era social politics). It's hardly original for the female lead to compare herself to Lizzie Bennet or claim Mr. Darcy as her ideal man. If you had removed them entirely, the overall plot and characterization would not have changed. I suppose the phrasing reads similarly to the novels Catherine Moreland is so fond of in Northanger Abbey, but overall the story lacks the charm and wit of Austen's works. Part of this may be because the author seems to have misunderstood Austen's works as shallow, fluffy love stories, as opposed to feminist social commentary with romantic storylines.

VICKY AS A FEMALE LEAD

Generally, readers expect a female lead to experience some kind of personal arc over the course of a 400-page adventure. Unfortunately, main character Vicky never grows out of her limited perspective or selfishness. I found her unlikable. Depicted as "not like other girls" using the same tired old tropes--a propensity for wearing pants, dislike of balls and marriage, and interest in animal husbandry and novels--she is is an unsuccessful rendition of a feminist female lead chafing at the chains of patriarchy. When she is stubborn and outspoken, it only reads as immature. Part of this is due to the author sidestepping the topic of Vicky's class privilege and how that informs her character's experience--and while no one is asking for a romance to solve the dilemma of class politics and economic disparity, I would point out that those elements are worthy of at least an acknowledgement, as they are central to the main plot as well as to Tom's arc. 

Vicky's talents also disappear exactly when you'd assume she'd need them most--described as clever and self-sufficient, she is constantly being thrust into the role of a damsel in distress requiring rescue. Her reckless choices regarding personal safety and what information she volunteers/to whom often put her and others in danger, and are clearly made in service of the plot. Unfortunately, the dual narration contributes negatively, as having Tom lay out the common sense reaction to every situation in his chapters only enhances Vicky's denseness in hers. 

Vicky is not just insensible, she is also unkind. This is exemplified by how callously she acts towards her sister, Althea. Althea's marriage to her (evil) husband is what has allowed Vicky to remain at home, catering to her own whims without pressure to find a husband of her own. The sisters are illustrated as polar opposites: Vicky is headstrong and opinionated, while Althea is quiet and shy. Although Althea is portrayed sympathetically, the author (perhaps unintentionally) casts some subtextual judgment towards her in a way I found distasteful, considering what she goes through. 

Vicky focuses on unhelpful details as to why her sister wouldn't just write the family about her husband's abuse (treating it like a plot twist when her sister reveals she did, but the letters were intercepted by the evil husband) instead of offering actual support. While it's not explicitly stated until late in the book exactly what Althea endured, we know from her first appearance that she has been abused. Vicky is aware that she should avoid her sister's evil husband in public at all costs. Yet, when trying to initially resist having to sacrifice her singleness, Vicky suggests that Althea OPENLY CHEAT ON OR PRETEND TO CHEAT ON HER HUSBAND (the consequence of which would be the very social ruin that she is trying to avoid by revealing her abuse in the first place) to incite him to declare a divorce! Not only is this a stupid plan because sister's violent husband would undoubtedly harm her in revenge, Vicky is essentially asking her sister to socially ruin herself to obtain her own freedom, because Vicky saving her sister by going on dates with less than amazing options sounds like no fun, humph! Althea rightfully tells Vicky she has no idea what it's like to sacrifice for the family, which Vicky takes offense to, despite the fact that it's entirely true. 

VICTIM-BLAMING

I was particularly annoyed by a flashback scene where Vicky looks down on her sister for having Fanny Price as her favorite Austen heroine, because in her opinion, Fanny should be criticized for not "taking enough action" in her own love life. Not only is this a gross misinterpretation of Mansfield Park's themes, it draws an ugly parallel to the larger storyline: quiet, shy Althea endures physical and sexual abuse to the point of threatening their family's position and spends most of the book locked away or having outbursts targeted at Vicky (during which the author pressures the reader to sympathize with Vicky instead of Althea); whereas outspoken, girlboss Vicky not only avoids an attempted rape entirely, she shoots the evil husband herself and puts an end to the whole problem--after all, she can't be a victim, she's too busy taking action! To me, this read as a more subversive form of victim-blaming. This is supported by the fact that Vicky does not show any residual trauma from any of the near-death experiences she suffers throughout the novel and seems unbothered by her own kidnapping, attempted rape, and having to commit murder at the end, whereas Althea's personality has been permanently warped by her abuse. While it's great to have a female lead avoid sexual assault in general (and while I fully believe the author did this subconsciously), the book does carry a disappointing message as to which women get to be victims and which get to be heroes.

THE ENGAGEMENT PLOT

Despite professing that she is only pursuing an engagement to save her family, Vicky's "sacrifice" (i.e agreeing to enter the marriage market in hopes of finding a match to inherit her father's fortune to keep it out of her sister's evil husband's clutches) doesn't seem like one when she consistently rejects every engagement offer made because she's holding out for true love. I was confused as to why she kept pushing this issue when the whole point of her pursuing engagement at all was to sacrifice her own freedom and happiness. That was the deal: choosing to give up the single life (and hopes for a love match) on behalf of her family's financial stability. When the plan was first introduced, the nobility of her sacrifice was the point, as well as an illustration of how selfless and kind the reader should find her. Part of her reasoning is also to assuage what she assumes to be her sister's resentment towards her for benefitting from Althea's marriage to a violent abuser who almost killed her. (This seems like an unkind interpretation of Althea's emotional upheaval, but okay.) Yet Cohen seems to forget the sacrifice element entirely, choosing to waste hundreds of pages on first dates with men who are rejected for...not being violent and money-hungry manipulators, like her sister's husband; but dressing ostentatiously or spitting when they talk. Which, fine, if the point is to marry for love or find the best candidate available--but as far as the reader knows, the point is to marry a non-murderer ASAP. If the rejected candidates had been portrayed as untrustworthy or money-hungry or even just mildly suspicious, Vicky's refusal would seem reasonable. It's hard to take her seriously when she claims to be suffering so from her sacrifice, without doing the actual sacrifice part. Going on bad dates when you'd rather to be a single lady climbing a tree isn't fun, but compared to her sister--who is so traumatized she's hiding in her room 24/7 because her abusive husband is free to prowl around until he can take their land and home? Vicky's got it pretty good in comparison. Her complaints about the dates as well as her sister not speaking to her come off as spoiled and inconsiderate.

Additionally, it's strange that her parents are so permissive of her rejections despite pressuring her to marry against her will in the first place. In fact, her parents are written inconsistently throughout--they are caring and kind when the author wants to portray a happy family, and then randomly dismissive and mean when the plot demands it. 

THE MYSTERY PLOT

The ultimate bad guy is obvious: it is the person who was introduced with us in the very first chapter as a sexist, abusive, and violent manipulator. He is supposedly primarily concerned with preserving his reputation, yet we rarely see him acting normal or giving a believable performance of a not-evil dude. Basically, he is depicted as a flat, cartoonishly evil, mustache-twirling villain whose terrible final plan is to kidnap Vicky (a notable rich person who would definitely be missed) as leverage to blackmail Althea to come back to him, so he can inherit their father's wealth. It is strongly implied that he plans to rape and kill Vicky regardless, but there seems to be no plan as to how to hide her disappearance after doing so. He also leaves behind a live witness after the kidnapping, who immediately runs to get help and ends up ruining this plan. It's obvious from the first chapter that he is involved. His main accomplice is the most odious of Vicky's suitors as well as the only one around during one of her most serious near-death experiences, so for me that reveal fell flat as well. To be honest, it felt like the author didn't care much for the mystery element the story, as she passes up several opportunities to make it work for her: Vicky puts no effort into trying to find out who attempted to harm her in the first chapter, and the death of their father's solicitor at the hands of the villain is barely a blip on the family's radar. In his chapters, Tom is more concerned with his own problems than putting any of the pieces together. Had Vicky never been kidnapped, it seems like the truth would never have been revealed (via evil villain monologue, of course). 

THE ROMANCE 

The romance falls almost as flat as the mind-numbingly predictable "mystery". The final love interest is also obvious: it is Tom, who gets half of the chapters written from his perspective, and not the other option, Carmichael, whose inner thoughts are the actual mystery despite the book being written in 3rd person POV. Both men have their flaws, although the latter's are not introduced until the final act in order to ensure that the audience knows the female lead chose the right man. But don't worry; secondary male lead is suddenly gracious enough to accept defeat, despite having a personality previously described as competitive, emotionally-charged, and stubborn. He also is suddenly a huge sexist, despite his initial attraction to Vicky being the very traits that make her so "not like other girls". He was also raised by a mom who is very similar to Vicky and accepts her. While I acknowledge that lots of sexist men pretend to be feminists or perceive themselves as feminists without actually having feminist values, there is no such nuance here--Carmichael is just the inconsistently-written arm of a "love triangle" that was never really a triangle at all. 

I will say that while I saw the red flags in Carmichael, at least he had a personality--unlike Tom, who is a tragic backstory, financial woes, and the miscommunication trope stacked on top of one another and dressed in a waistcoat. A poor imitation of what the author thinks Mr. Darcy is, Tom spends most of the book stressing about his very real money problems, wallowing over the consequences of his deceased father's actions that he must handle and conceal, or thinking about Vicky's "heart-shaped lips." Somehow, he is totally unaware that he harbors romantic feelings for her for--I'm serious--90% of the book. This is especially strange considering the two characters (Tom and Vicky) interact in almost every other chapter. Although, perhaps it is because their dialogue often relies on rehashing information that readers have already gleaned from their respective narrations, instead of building on the foundation already laid. A lot of their connection is based on a childhood friendship, which would be cute except we are repeatedly told through both narrations that Tom is very different as an adult, making it difficult to determine why Vicky's attraction remains. For her part, Vicky still comes off like an immature tween, so what Tom sees in her is also a question left unanswered. Little effort is made to define just what makes them so compatible or complimentary as a couple. Unfortunately, Vicky's scenes with Carmichael have more verve and banter in comparison, despite him giving major f-boy energy. 

So, there you have it. Boring mystery, boring romance, taking Jane Austen's name in vain, underwritten characters with some (hopefully unintentional) victim-blaming on the side. Turns out the most dangerous alliance was this book and my library all along.