The work of the scholars involved in this collection is remarkably strong, and the women writers and travelers on whom the essays focus are well chosen to establish geographical and temporal breadth through concern with transatlantic mobility. The book includes ten illustrations and is divided into two parts. The first, “(Pseudo)Historical Women’s Travels,” discusses the voyages, travel writing, and experiences of several women travelers within the collection’s end-dates of 1688–1843, while the second, “Fictional Women’s Travels,” analyzes imaginative portrayals of women’s transatlantic movement, particularly within various novels of the era. The collection displays special attention to questions relating to gender and race. As Krueger explains, these women’s experiences “indicate that the freedoms afforded to some women travelers in this era, especially those of white European descent, were the result of imperialism, colonization, and Black women’s trauma. While certainly we find in transatlantic stories the transformative power of travel in terms of women’s observations and examples of personal autonomy, we would be remiss not to recognize that this independence is contingent upon the involuntary migration of other women.” The collection’s essays reinforce these broader contexts and understandings through their examinations of the era’s relevant writers and works, spanning the entire perimeter of the Atlantic Ocean, and thus alternately focusing on England, Europe, Africa, South America, islands in the Caribbean, Mexico, America/the United States, Newfoundland, and Ireland.The volume’s first part, addressing historical accounts, opens with Diana Epelbaum’s contribution, “‘Little Atlas’: Global Travel and Local Preservation in Maria Sibylla Merian’s The Metamorphosis of the Insects of Surinam (1705).” The German-born entomologist Merian traveled at her own expense with one of her daughters to Surinam on a collecting expedition, resulting in her famed volume of folio-sized plates and descriptive text. Depicting approximately one hundred species of insects and fifty-three species of plants, her “enlarged focus on the life cycles of insects shifted the generic standard away from the classification of dead, decontextualized specimens.” Epelbaum notes that Merian sometimes “validated Indigenous knowledges” within her writing and thereby “exposed the centrality of enslaved labor to European knowledge production.” During her expedition, Merian relied on expert assistance from both Indigenous peoples and enslaved Africans, yet “at the height of the influx of African slavery, Merian portrayed Surinam’s natural habitats as untouched and harmonious, implying that Surinam would prove infinitely abundant and endure as a trove of scientific knowledge—very much a preservationist fantasy that bled into imperialist myths of the ‘New World.’” Ultimately, Epelbaum perceptively views Merian’s work as “both preservationist and interventionist, both proto-ecologic and imperialist” at a time when “nature study and conquest could not be disentangled.”The collection’s second essay, Shelby Johnson’s “Thresholds of Livability: Climate and Population Relocation in Anna Maria Falconbridge’s Two Voyages to Sierra Leone (1794),” analyzes this epistolary travel narrative account of the “colony’s Black settlers who fled to Nova Scotia after the American Revolution and then relocated to Sierra Leone.” In fact, as Johnson explains, Sierra Leone was “conceived as a shelter for formerly enslaved peoples and Black soldiers and sailors who settled in London and Nova Scotia after the American Revolution, [so that] the Sierra Leone projects emerged in the 1780s as a philanthropic venture spearheaded by a diverse coalition of British evangelicals and businessmen, including driving forces of the nascent abolitionist movement.” Falconbridge’s Two Voyages argues that London directors “failed to take into account the economic and social forces circumscribing the settlement,” resulting in “colonial negligence.” Acknowledging the tensions between Falconbridge’s pro-slavery and anti-colonial postures, Johnson examines “contradictions in her reflections on colonial population movement” and closes the essay with a sensitive close reading of “the sole letter we possess written by a Black woman immigrating to Sierra Leone, Susana Smith,” convincingly suggesting its significance in revealing concerns for meeting “a threshold of livability, or an assemblage of peoples, objects, and ecologies needed to support life.”Grace A. Gomashie’s “Transatlantic Female Solidarity: Two Women Social Explorers and their Views on Nineteenth-Century Latin American Women,” the volume’s third chapter, explores Flora Tristan’s French travelogue about Peru, Pérégrinations d’une paria (1838), and Frances “Fanny” Erskine Inglis Calderón de la Barca’s English travel book, Life in Mexico, published in the United States of America in 1843. Gomashie examines the views of Tristan and Calderón especially regarding Peruvian and Mexican women, respectively, and attends to “three themes: the oppression of women through religion and marriage, women’s agency and power, and advocacy for women’s education.” Although Gomashie explores ways in which these European-born women travelers sometimes portray themselves as possessing cultural superiority to the women of their host countries, these writers also were early proponents of women’s rights in Latin America. In the volume’s fourth essay, “‘The Fair Daughters of Terra Nova’: Women in the Settler Cultures of Early Nineteenth-Century Newfoundland,” Pam Perkins admits that “women tend to be all but invisible in many of the accounts” of this British colony, but reveals ways in which “paying attention to the glimpses of them in documents from that time is important.” For example, Mary Elizabeth Brenton (1791–1884) corresponded with the botanist Sir William Jackson Hooker “and has a claim to being among Newfoundland’s first women writers, as she provided Hooker with much of his information on the plants of Newfoundland.”Concluding part 1 of the collection, Ula Lukszo Klein’s essay, “Busty Buccaneers and Sapphic Swashbucklers on the High Seas,” examines accounts of Anne Bonny and Mary Read, especially as they are portrayed in Captain Charles Johnson’s A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates (1724). Depictions of these female pirates often draw on “tropes of the cross-dressing warrior woman, the female criminal, and the whore’s story.” Klein productively explores notions of female masculinity, laboring-class independence, and the possibility of female same-sex desires, while also emphasizing the importance of race in the transatlantic world, in that these freedoms are specifically available to white women.Part 2 of the volume, on fictional women’s travels, opens with Jennifer Golightly’s “Gender Performance and the Spectacle of Female Suffering in Samuel Jackson Pratt’s Emma Corbett.” Discussing Pratt’s epistolary novel, Emma Corbett, or the Miseries of Civil War (1780), Golightly bridges from Klein’s essay as the eponymous heroine disguises herself as a man to journey from England to the American colonies in order to save her male love interest who is fighting in the British Army. However, while Emma’s various disguises help her to survive her transatlantic journey and travels through the colonies, Golightly suggests that it is her sensibility and thus morality that models “a quality shared by both men and women, Britons and American colonists,” and is depicted as capable of reconciling “men on opposite sides of the hostilities between Britain and its colonies in North America.”Chapter 7, Alexis McQuigge’s “‘That Person Shall be a Woman’: Matriarchal Authority and the Fantasy of Female Power in The Female American (1767),” examines this “autobiographical” tale purportedly written by a biracial, bicultural woman, Unca Eliza Winkfield, “which is likely a pseudonym for a non-Indigenous person writing fiction.” While McQuigge confirms that this novel “ultimately promotes the British colonial drive and holds Britishness and Christianity as the utmost marker of civilization,” it also “offers readers a fantasy of female autonomy” through the heroine’s connections to her mother and aunt, who are Native American royalty. Nevertheless, through the novel’s adherence to conventional marriage plots and the framework of a conversion narrative, the fantasy of female empowerment is ultimately lost.Chapter 8, Octavia Cox’s standout essay, “‘I am Disappointed in England’: Reverse-Robinsonades and the Transatlantic Woman as Social Critic in The Woman of Colour (1808),” asserts that this novel’s “primary purpose is to rupture England’s self-regard toward its treatment of transatlantic subjects,” and its “secondary aim is to encourage action from its (likely) young female English readers by promoting an idealized conception of English principles.” Cox usefully terms this novel a “reverse-Robinsonade” as the eponymous biracial heroine, Olivia Fairfield, forced to leave Jamaica for England, “becomes a female transatlantic social critic of England, designed to expose English bigotry” and enable the author to “problematize the attitudes of English women to the institution of slavery.” The novel displays that “slavery contravenes both the teachings of the Church of England, essentially kindness and charity, and ostensibly traditional English notions of liberty” so that “Olivia’s task is to re-teach English values back to the very English who have forgotten them.”In chapter 9, Victoria Barnett-Woods’s “Creole Nationalism, Mobility, and Gendered Politics in Zelica, the Creole (1820)” then offers a “new term for approaching the cross-cultural influences that shaped the long eighteenth-century Caribbean.” Barnett-Woods asserts that “‘creole nationalism’ functions under the assumption that a modern state can sustainably operate through collaborative efforts toward equitable justice, multilingualism, integration, and cross-cultural receptivity.” Employing this framework, the essay examines both Zelica and Leonora Sansay’s Secret History; or, The Horrors of St. Domingo (1808), and suggests the possibility that “Sansay is the author of both works.” While “Secret History initiates a projection of the idealized creole national subject through formations of international sisterhood,” Zelica “demonstrates the hemispheric possibilities of both gender and race equality in the circum-Atlantic world.”The volume’s final chapter, Kathleen Morrissey’s “Feminine Negotiations within the Colony: Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko and Phebe Gibbes’s Hartly House,” argues that Oroonoko prefigures later women’s “subversive strategies” in colonial writing, especially examining the British Indian travel novel, Hartly House, Calcutta: A Novel of the Days of Warren Hastings (1789). The heroine of Hartly House portrays India in a positive light, comparing the lessons of Hinduism to Christianity, and criticizing aspects of Britain. Morrissey asserts that fictional travel writing “is a kind of literary colonization, one that allows the woman British subject to make sense of seemingly exotic cultures through thought experimentation.” Assessing the two works’ similarities and differences, she explains that they “offer a valuable critique of the historically male-dominated colonial setting, which simultaneously gave women some freedoms at the cost of their autonomy.”The collection closes with Eve Tavor Bannet’s “Afterword,” which contends that “the task of feminist scholarship as demonstrated in these essays is to try to disentangle the facts from the fictions in primary texts that do not reflect women’s thinking or experience in any straightforward sense.” As she explains, during the era in question, “women demonstrated their agency and independence of thought as writers by critiquing and endeavoring to correct and improve the ways in which men, enslavers, and governors related to women and native people, while skillfully using ideas and manners of presentation to which men in principle consented, to gain a hearing and get their points across.” Bannet views “mixta genera, as well as mixtures of fact and fiction, as intrinsic to travel writing during this period, as well as to other popular eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century genres such as the novel, the periodical, and the magazine.”Transatlantic Women Travelers offers not only new insights and approaches to scholarship on this subject but also a fantastic guide for teaching these works and their larger sociopolitical transatlantic contexts. Especially in its careful attention to issues of gender and race, the collection provides a welcome intervention and model within current research practices pertaining to this and related topics. The volume is truly impressive, and should be considered necessary reading for anyone interested in this era’s historical and literary accounts of the transatlantic world.