I'm fussy about my historical fiction. It's not that I don't like it, I do. The problem is, many authors take their poetic license too far, making 19th century heroines act like today's girls or mentioning matches in Ancient Rome books... or falling into the contrasting trap of speaking in Chaucer's English .
So it took me a while to pick up Tess Gerritsen's Bone Garden. I needn't have worried, In Tess's skilled hands, 1830 Boston comes to life with ease and authenticity. Ok, I wasn't around at the time, but the world feel real. You can feel the cold. Your nostrils fill with the stench. You scratch your head when you read about the lice.
Oh, did I mention it's also a first-rate thriller? And, unusually for my, I didn't guess the killer's identity.