Lydia Maria Child: A Radical American Life

Abstract

Lydia Maria Child has largely fallen out of public consciousness, though she remains popular among literary scholars and historians who study abolition, and her poem “Over the River and through the Wood” is still recited today. The author now best known for a children's poem may not seem relevant to modern life, but Lydia Moland's biography aims to radically shift the author's position in American culture. She situates the writer-thinker as a model for anyone grappling with the difficult questions that dominate twenty-first century life. Moland's biography is ambitious, but she does an exceptional job of establishing how Lydia Maria Child continues to speak to us two hundred years later.Moland begins with a “Personal Prologue,” a short essay that traces how she found and approached her subject. Moland, a scholar of philosophy, admits to being drawn to Child's writings about abolition, but tempers her academic excitement with a particularly important question: “Does the world need another white hero?” (15). Moland's query is particularly relevant as these voices can dominate conversations about race, equity, and justice. Her ultimate conclusion, that while “we might not need more white heroes,” it also means that “white Americans . . . need more examples like [Child's]” (15). This helps her to frame Child's legacy. Moland shows Child to be a forward-thinking, modern woman who not only published An Appeal in Favor of that Class of Americans Called Africans (1833), a book that destroyed her popularity even as it cemented her place in American letters, but one who thought deeply about how to live an examined life. Child's achievements, though, are secondary in Moland's view. What really matters is that she attempted to live according to her morals and was willing to change her thinking when presented with new information.The pages after the “Personal Prologue” follow a fairly expected trajectory. Moland describes Child's youth, moves through her literary and personal life, and ends with the author's death at the age of 78. Along the way, Moland offers historical context to explain Child's choices, experiences, and expectations. For instance, as we learn about Child's birth and difficult early years, we perceive the Revolutionary War's lingering social and cultural scars, see how slavery impacted life in northern states, and explore women's limited access to education. Moland addresses a general audience, so her historical context may feel obvious to some, but I appreciated her light hand. She summarizes complex historical movements and events well, highlighting their relevance and important details without losing sight of her subject.Lydia Maria Child: A Radical American Life contains a wide array of sources, which creates a well-rounded portrait. Moland draws from archived letters, city documents, and nineteenth-century newspapers, as well as recent biographies, academic articles and monographs, and (naturally) philosophical tracts. She puts Child's own writings into conversation with contemporaries and highlights the mores that Child adhered to or rebelled against. Photographs capture Child and her circles. Moland is never precious with Child; indeed, she shows that Child's flaws may be instructive. The nineteenth-century activist maintained a conservative perspective on the labor movement: “what, she demanded as workers went on strike against deadly factory conditions, was wrong with a little work?” (455). Child's stance echoes many modern approaches to labor strikes; the parallel between Victorian and modern dissatisfaction with strikes helps readers to contemplate how privilege and or comfort can cause blindspots.Importantly, Moland makes few critical judgments of her subject. For example, she reports on Child's forays into spiritualism kindly, acknowledging the intense grief that fostered her desire to contact the dead. And she ends with an epilogue that provides readers with a thoughtful guide for what to do next. Among many other steps Moland expects to take in the wake of studying Child are: “rearranging [her] finances, reorienting [her] syllabi, recommitting to organizations that support American's radical promise of equality,” “resisting a consumerism that is both unethical and unsustainable,” and, perhaps most difficult, cultivating “a fierce humility that recognizes that even [her] best intentions sometimes indict [her] ignorance” (472). Moland admits these goals may sound overwhelming, but points to Child as an example of success through hard work. By the time I finished this biography, I similarly felt radicalized. It is nearly impossible to read about Child and not want to follow her example in some way.As I read Moland's text, I wondered about her audience. She has done an exceptional job of appealing to a wide audience, even as she includes complex conversations about philosophy, literature, and history. Her “Personal Prologue” provides a cogent defense of why to read this biography; her personal reflections ensure the subject is appealing and relevant. Anyone from advanced undergraduate students to book club members can read and benefit from Lydia Maria Child, and academic writers can learn much from Moland's clear and engaging prose. Those who study Child will appreciate how Moland's approach rejuvenates our understanding of one of America's most important women writers. Biographies aimed at a mainstream audience can struggle to reach academic readers, while academic texts may rarely reach beyond specialists. Moland's text works hard to appeal broadly. Child's example should not be restricted to specific audiences but instead should be available to all, so we can work to be clearer thinkers and braver advocates.