In this period novel, Freeman introduces readers to two diametrically opposite Englishwomen of the early 19th century. First is Ruth Downs, who is born and raised with her sister, Dora, in a brothel in Bristol called "the convent."Deemed not attractive enough to serve the brothel's clientele, Ruth accidentally stumbles upon a career as a bare-knuckle boxer fighting men for money. Her patron, Granville Dryer, is also Dora's regular client. The second woman is the well-born but pox-scarred Charlotte Sinclair, who marries Dryer to get away from her debauched brother, Perry. She finds life as a married woman boring, but one day, while attending the St. James's Fair, she is transfixed by the sight of Ruth in the ring. When Dryer decides to promote Ruth's boxer husband, Tom Webber, this brings Charlotte into contact with Ruth, who secretly teaches Charlotte how to box and becomes her sparring partner. But Tom's bad showing in London changes the game for all involved. Freeman cleverly uses Ruth and Charlotte to show how 19th-century women, no matter their circumstances, had few choices in their lives. Her evocation of the seedier aspects of Georgian England is persuasive, even for readers who don't know a cove from a cull. But the narrative fails to follow through on the promise of its premise, and the melodramatic pile-up of domestic and romantic entanglements overwhelms the more exciting story of what happens inside the prize ring. (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Starred Review. Born and raised in a brothel in Bristol, the lumpish and unattractive Ruth is considered unsuitable to become a lady of the house, so it is fortunate that her early signs of talent for scrappiness leads to some success as a professional pugilist. In this sweeping 18th-century saga, her story is intertwined with two others: that of George Bowden, the well-born youngest son of a family from whom he will inherit neither title nor fortune and who comes to depend on the largess of his schoolboy friend and lover, Perry Sinclair, and of Perry's sister, Charlotte. Charlotte is a smallpox survivor whose fortunes are considerably diminished by her facial scarring and who is kept firmly under the thumb of her irascible brother until he marries her off to a mean and neglectful husband. These three characters find their lives converging in the boxing arena-Ruth, as a fighter and later as the supportive wife of an aspiring champion; Charlotte, with a developing fascination for the sport, both as a spectator and a would-be participant; and George, as a gambler hoping that a big win will secure his future. VERDICT This debut, a ripping fine yarn, will have particular appeal to fans of recent Austen-era hits such as Jo Baker's Longbourn and P.D. James's Death Comes to Pemberley. Thoroughly entertaining and highly recommended. [See Prepub Alert, 10/27/14.]-Barbara Love, formerly with Kingston Frontenac P.L., Ont. (c) Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Eighteenth-century England is a cruel and dirty world in Freeman's engrossing historical novel. Told in the voices of three distinct narrators, each shaped by class, life's whims, and birth order, the story takes the reader from a brothel to a society estate, to a street boxing ring. When our narrators meet at different points in the story, it is both heartbreaking and hilarious. Freeman doesn't shy away from the grim realities of sexism, homophobia, and illness that afflict the lives of her characters, and readers will appreciate her blunt look at the English caste system. Freeman is at her best in moments when the characters transcend their societal roles and break free of expectations.--Paulson, Heather Copyright 2015 Booklist

WRITING ANY NOVEL involves decisions. In historical novels, these decisions can be agonizing, since readers of this genre are particularly unforgiving. Language? Tense? Voice? Such choices made, you're still left contemplating Henry James's dispiriting judgment that in historical fiction "the real thing is almost impossible to do, and in its essence the whole effect is as nought." Anna Freeman has cocked a snook at James, and for her debut foray made a brave decision. The language she has chosen for this rambunctious tale of pugilists and patronage, brothels and brawling in the nether regions of late-18th- and early-19th-century Bristol, England, is "informal archaic." "The Fair Fight" heaves with smatchets, babbers, cullies, milling, maulers, pugs and fibbing. Adverbs become adjectives, as in "carrying a tray as careful as a nest of eggs." Bowls smash "upon" the flagstones. "What say you to a plantation I have lately bought?" asks Granville Dryer, a key player. For this to work in a 21st-century novel, two attributes are necessary: the skill to contextualize unfamiliar words so the reader understands them without blinking, and the boldness to shout, "So what?" at Jamesian lip-curlers. Freeman possesses both. She skillfully beds in the idiom while staring us boldly in the face. We are audience as well as readers. It's no surprise to learn that she is also a performance poet. Freeman's tale is told by three narrators: Ruth, a pugilist, born into a brothel on a bed that has seen a "regiment of cullies"; George, the youngest son of minor gentry, who must make his own way; and Charlotte, the pox-scarred sister of Perry, George's rich wastrel friend and lover. Granville, the character who drives the plot by taking up first Ruth, then Ruth's husband, as pugilists, and to whom Charlotte is married off by her brother, is not given his own narration. I felt the lack. In many ways, Granville's gambling calculations would have been more intriguing than George's. No matter. The deeper driving force in the novel isn't a person at all; it's female anger, exploding in hot, driving fists and sustained by secret friendships. The women keep us reading, yet Freeman is too good a storyteller to reduce "The Fair Fight" to a feminist tract. Rather, the whole enterprise lodges in the tradition of the picaresque, where the excitement lies less in plot than in lively incident - the dirty, noisy, glittering late 18th century is a gift for novelists - and suspense is sustained less through cliffhanger action than through following the characters as they roll with life's - and, in this case, other people's - punches. Charlotte, for example, isn't compelled to "put your fives up" and beat the training dummy by internal fury at her lot in life; she's driven by something she sees. Punching would certainly offer her power over her husband, but she chooses to triumph by furthering her domestic happiness, entirely in keeping with the character Freeman has created. Ruth also remains true. She can "stand up against any man, but not against my own nature." She wants to "see blood spilled and feel the old fire in my limbs." These two women aren't poster girls for anything. They are themselves. And that's the trick Freeman has pulled off. Her novel, though written in a fashion long past, feels quite natural and free. She has taken the late 18th century, language and all, and pummeled life into it. "The Fair Fight" breathes, shouts and swears, confident in its form and bold as brass in its execution. If Anna Freeman ever puts up her fives and takes to milling, I'll not volunteer as an opponent. KATHARINE GRANT'S most recent novel is "Sedition."

A lady boxer, a poxy lady and a louche pretty boy tangle in 18th-century England."I'd like to say that my beginnings were humble, but they weren't beginnings, because I never really left them but for a short while." This is Ruth, and the birthplace and lifelong home she's referring to is a Bristol whorehouse known as "the convent." When her older half sister, Dora, is drafted at "12 or 13" into the ranks of their mother's "misses," plain-faced Ruth feels left out and jealous, not least of the big, fat piece of bacon Dora now rates at the breakfast table. The tension erupts into a catfight, which the gentleman patrons witness with such enthusiasm that it's moved to the yard outside and bets are placed. One of the onlookers is a fellow named Dryer; he becomes the patron of both girls, Dora at the brothel and Ruth in the boxing ring. (In the Author's Note of her debut novel, Freeman writes that lady pugilists were just one of many rough entertainments common in the nasty, smelly 1700s, so brilliantly evoked here.) Through Dryer, Ruth will eventually meet the two other main characters of the story, both of whom take turns with her in telling it. One is Charlotte Sinclair, an upper-class young woman who was terribly marked by childhood smallpox; she ends up married to the awful Dryer. The other is George Bowden, a schoolmate of both Dryer and Charlotte's brother Perry; George's good looks far surpass his moral character. Gamblers, drinkers, fighters, hookers; the fancy, the rowdy, the rudeFreeman does a wonderful job of spinning this furious yarn, in which the fury of women plays the lead role. Great characters and wild turns of events make this book a knockout. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.