New Books in Women's History

Ben Binstock‘s Vermeer’s Family Secrets: Genius, Discovery, and the Unknown Apprentice (Routledge, 2009) is one of the most fascinating books I have ever read. It does what all good history books should do–tell you something you thought you knew but in fact don’t–but it does it ON EVERY PAGE. I thought Vermeer was X; now I know he was Y. I thought Vermeer was influenced by X; now I understand he was influenced by Y; I thought Vermeer painted X; now I realize he painted Y. I could go on and on, revelation after revelation. The biggest news–or rather the bit that will get the most press–is that a handful of “Vermeers” were in fact painted by his daughter, Maria. Vermeer’s Family Secrets is remarkably well researched and convincingly argued. It’s also lavishly illustrated. So are a lot of art history books. But this one is also intelligently illustrated: the way the pictures are arrayed serves the book’s many arguments. They are not simply eye-candy; they are also brain-candy. And the book is written in a clever, engaging, dry style. The short “Acknowledgments and Preface” are worth the price of admission. A word about that price. I confess I get all the books I do on this show free, thanks to the publishers. So I don’t know how much they cost. I thought this one, judging by the production value, was going to run somewhere around $100. That’s steep. But my friends, I’m delighted to tell you that you can buy this book for the low, low price of $32.85 from Amazon. It would make a great holiday gift. Since I have a copy on hand, I think I’ll give it to my brother-in-law (don’t tell him…).Please become a fan of “New Books in Art” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Most Americans could tell you who George Washington’s wife was. (Martha, right?) Most Americans probably couldn’t tell you who Thomas Jefferson’s wife was. (It was also Martha, but a different one of course). They might be able to tell you, however, who Thomas Jefferson’s alleged concubine was, as she has been in the news a lot lately. (His slave, Sally Hemings). But actually there were a lot of women in Jefferson’s life–or should we say a lot of women had Jefferson in their lives.Virginia Scharff tells us about the most important of them (including Martha and Sally) in her literary-yet-historical new book The Women Jefferson Loved (HarperCollins, 2010). The “Jefferson Women,” if it may be allowed, were an interesting bunch. They were sturdy, intelligent, and sometimes rich. Jefferson did love them, but he didn’t really think they were the equals of men. He was hardly alone in this opinion. Even children of the Enlightenment like Jefferson felt God had made women for a distinctly womenly role, and Jefferson felt it was his duty to make sure they played it. Suffice it to say that they were pregnant a lot and became very good at managing domestic life on a plantation. That, of course, is nothing to discount, for in so doing they created the domestic and emotional context within which Jefferson lived. They were an important part of his world, and he of theirs. Thanks to Virginia for bringing this world alive for us. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Don’t you find it a bit curious that there are literally thousands of pills that we in the developed world take on a daily basis, but only one of them is called “the Pill?” Actually, you probably don’t find it curious, because you know that the pill has had a massive impact on modern life. And why wouldn’t it? Thanks to the Pill, women alone–without the (unreliable) “cooperation” of their sexual partners–could control their own fertility. For the first time in human history. The first time. Think of the implications. No more worrying about missed periods. No more shotgun weddings. No more unwanted children. And a lot more and better sex to boot. What a boon!Or was it? The most interesting thing about Elaine Tyler May‘s pithy America and the Pill: A History of Promise, Peril, and Liberation (Basic Books, 2010) is that she shows that the Pill really didn’t live up to expectations then and it hasn’t now. After all, the Pill is a form of contraception, and contraception has been available for a long time. By the mid-twentieth century, in fact, there were many highly effective forms of birth control available in much of the developed world. So in a sense the Pill wasn’t exactly new. But it was different, and that made the folks who promoted and developed it believe–or say they believed–that it was going to solve many of humanity’s problems, foremost among them over-population and the oppression of women. It’s arguable, however, that it had little direct impact on either. Worldwide population growth, though it has slowed, is still quite high. Women remain second-class citizens (and, more interestingly, second-class family members) over much of the planet.So what did the Pill do except raise expectations? Well, quite a lot, really. First, it gave women new power. They could control their fertility (not to mention periods) if they wanted to. That didn’t mean they had to, or even that all of them wanted to. But they could. If men were threatened by that fact, tough. They’d have to live with it (and in the developed world most of them have). Second, the Pill allowed women to put off childbearing until they had established careers, thus facilitating (though not causing) a massive increase in the number and percentage of women in the workforce. For many women, the Pill made an “either/or” proposition (either mother or career) into a “this and that” proposition (mother and worker). On this front, we’ve still a way to go, but the Pill moved us in the right direction. The Pill, however, wasn’t just about physical power over childbearing. It was also, as Elaine points out, a potent symbol of women’s empowerment. It wasn’t only what the Pill actually did (that, as we’ve said, wasn’t entirely new), it was what people believed it meant. And that, in a word, was liberation.Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I’ll be honest: I have a Ph.D. in early modern European history from a big university you’ve probably heard of and I couldn’t name a single female writer of the Renaissance before I read Sarah Ross’s new book The Birth of Feminism. Woman as Intellect in Renaissance Italy and England (Harvard University Press, 2009). Does that make me a bad person? No, other things make me a bad person. But it does make me and my entire field ignorant, for as Sarah points out there were quite a number of female intellectuals in the Renaissance. They were, so to say, waiting for us to pay them the attention they deserve. Sarah does a nice job of unearthing them, telling us how they came to be intellectuals, and giving us a good idea of what they wrote about and why. That’s quite an achievement in itself, but there is more. Sarah also makes a bold claim, one that I’m sure will have the field of Renaissance studies atwitter (no, not twitter as in “tweets”). She argues that these women intellectuals were sort of proto-feminists, not in the Gloria Steinem sense, but an important sense nonetheless. They proposed that, via humanist education, women could have as much “virtue” (NB: from the Latin word for “man,” vir) as men. And they not only argued this was the case, they demonstrated it by means of their writing. This act, Sarah convincingly proposes, was a crucial early step in the movement toward the idea that women were, well, equal to men. And, I should add, she offers lots of other meaty stuff for those interested in the history of gender, the history of the family, intellectual history, and the Renaissance generally. Read the book and then you, too, will be relieved of the embarrassment of not being to name a single female Renaissance writer.Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Think of this. From the origins of civilization roughly 5000 years ago to around 1900 AD, the condition of women did not fundamentally change. They weren’t “second class citizens.” Rather, they weren’t citizens at all. They were under the nearly complete control of, first, their fathers and, after marriage, their husbands. By and large they could not participate–at least alone–in civic life. That all changed suddenly in the nineteenth century, especially in the United States. The reason it did is complex, but it most directly had to do with a group of women’s rights advocates who met at Seneca Falls, NY, in 1848 and there created the modern women’s movement. Sally McMillen has told their story in her readable new book Seneca Falls and the Origins of the Women’s Rights Movement (Oxford University Press, 2008). And quite a story it is. To say that these women met resistance would be an understatement. They were, as we’ve seen, promoting an idea–gender equality–that had never really been broached, let alone realized, in the history of humankind. But that idea, as they say, had legs in our time. The movement they started succeeded in a fashion they could hardly have imagined. We live in the world they created. Thanks to Sally for bringing them and their tale to our attention.Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When I was in high school I had several friends who went to Wichita’s only prep school. They were nice guys, played D&D, andsaid they were “Libertarians.”I thought that “Libertarian” might have something to do with the library, so I wanted to have nothing to do with it. But they really wanted to spread the Gospel. So I listened. What they said made sense. We’re born free. We should be able to do whatever we want so long as we don’t hurt anyone. The authorities should get off our backs. Now this, I thought, was philosophy for a 16-year old.They told me to read Ayn Rand. I didn’t. Her books had too many pages. But my mother did, and I noticed a lot of other folks I knew did to. Rand, I was told, was a genius. I never really understood the Rand phenomenon until I read Jennifer Burns‘ page-turning biography Goddess of the Market. Ayn Rand and the American Right (Oxford, 2009). Almost by accident, the foreigner Rand tapped into a deeply-rooted American desire to be LEFT ALONE. All teenagers want to be left alone, but America is the only country in world history to have a political culture built on the idea. Rand’s radical, romantic individualism was the pitch-perfect echo of Americans’ frustration with the growth of the modern state (and teenagers’ frustration with the stupidity of their parents). That and she was really entertaining. She wrote, said, and did outrageous things. She said they were all consistent with her philosophy, “Objectivism.” Maybe. But they were also consistent with amphetamine addiction. It goes without saying that her personal life was a train-wreck, though a very interesting one given that it was informed by a philosophical system (and drug abuse). The American desire to be LEFT ALONE has not vanished (cf. Ron Paul), and neither has America’s fascination with Rand’s remarkable life. We should thank Jennifer for telling us about it.Thanks to Anne is a Man! for suggesting this book. If you like podcasts, you should visit his site.Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

There was a time when “history” was the history of powerful people. Shakespeare captures this notion of history in the prologue to Henry V:O for a Muse of fire, that would ascendThe brightest heaven of invention,A kingdom for a stage, princes to actAnd monarchs to behold the swelling scene!Then and for centuries afterward, princes were deemed the proper focus of the historical investigations. The history of history from about 1950 to the present has largely been one of “democratizing” that view of the past. Princes are still given their due, but now a host of previously invisible people are as well. In the hands of social historians, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers, male and female, European and non-European have all been given a written history.Our guest today, Vicki Ruiz, is one of the pioneers in this effort. Her path-breaking From Out of the Shadows: Mexican Women in Twentieth-Century America (Oxford UP, 1998; Tenth Anniversary Edition, 2008) shed light on the lives of one of these invisible groups for the first time. Through interviews and extensive documentary investigation, Vicki does a masterful job reconstructing the experiences of immigrant women who have gone by many names–Mexicanas, Tejanas, Chicanas, Hispanas among them. She describes in vivid detail how they negotiated the life passages of school, marriage, motherhood, and work while trying to balance the forces of assimilation and tradition. Though the book is about Mexican women, the theme resonates with the American immigrant experience more generally. Their story is our story. Read From Out of the Shadows and find out how.Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you ask me, the “white wedding” is the oddest thing. I’m a modern guy and my wife is a modern woman. We’re feminists. We have an equal partnership. But when it came to getting married we both agreed that I would play the role of Prince Charming and she would be the virginal maiden. A black tux for me. A white dress for her. I do believe there was even some “giving away” of the bride. I was glad to be the “recipient,” if that’s what you’d call it. The wedding was terrific, but I had to ask: What in the world were we doing playing lords and ladies? Well I finally got my answer by reading Katherine Jellison’s terrific It’s Our Day: America’s Love Affair with the White Wedding (University of Kansas Press, 2008). Katherine shows how incredibly resilient the white wedding was and is. In the post-war years, American women increasingly went to college, joined the paid workforce, and entered the halls of power. They rejected the gendered stereotypes that once held them in check. Except, it seems, on their wedding days. “Seems” is the operative word here, because as Katherine demonstrates the meaning of the white wedding changed even while the form remained roughly the same. How did it change? I encourage you to read the book and find out (preferably before you get married, so you won’t be confused like I was).Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

“Swords and Sandals” movies always amaze me. You know the ones I’m talking about: “Spartacus,” “Ben-Hur,” “Gladiator,” and the rest. These movies are so rich in detail–both narrative and physical–that you feel like you are “there.” But the fact is that we don’t and really can’t know much about “there” (wherever “there” happens to be in the Ancient World) because the sources are very, very thin. As Joyce Tyldesley points out in her terrific Cleopatra: Last Queen of Egypt (Basic Books, 2008), Cleopatra is a mystery and necessarily so. We don’t know who her mother was, when she was born, what she looked like, whom she married, and a host of other details about her life. That means, of course, that every dramatist from Shakespeare on has been, well, making stuff up about Cleopatra. Actually, many of the “primary sources” about her are full of invention because they were written long after the events they describe by Roman authors who just didn’t like her very much. They did like a good story, so they embellished, as any good storyteller will. Joyce is an excellent storyteller herself, but she takes no poetic license. She tells us just what can be known–and trust me, that’s more than enough to hold our attention! This book is a great read for anyone interested in learning about the real world of Ptolemaic Egypt.Please become a fan of “New Books in History” on Facebook if you haven’t already. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A number of years ago I read Robert Service’s excellent biography of Lenin and came away thinking “We don’t really know enough about the women who surrounded Lenin throughout his life.” Katy Turton, a lecturer in modern European history at Queen’s University Belfast, has fixed that. Her Forgotten Lives: The... Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices