Books like National Parks and the Woman's Voice — picked by fans

I found a quote from my father written in 1982 in my tattered copy of Stanton’s biography when I was appointed the first superintendent of the new park. He asked, “How do you know all this?” A perfect question from a well-educated and well-read father who was then 70. He surely never studied women’s history.

I, a graduate of the Arts College at Cornell University just 40 miles away from Seneca Falls, had never heard of Stanton or Seneca Falls until 20 years after my graduation. It’s remarkable how little awareness there was, even in such close proximity, about these historical figures and events that would become so central to my work. My personal knowledge of women’s history was practically non-existent at the time.

I began as superintendent in 1982, and of the very fine books here recommended, only one had been published in 1982: Stanton’s autobiography. Stanton’s descriptions, supplemented… show more.

I wish I could have read this book as I struggled to promote the sites in Seneca Falls to become a new national park. The US Congress directed the National Park Service to seek out and preserve sites that tell “nationally significant” aspects of our country’s history. Naming a place and its remaining structures nationally significant brings notice, interest, visitors, and support. Severely limiting parks focused on women might suggest that women’s history is not nationally significant.

I found the 19 chapters describing the benefits and challenges of selecting, preserving, and promoting the sites, structures, and stories of women’s trials and achievements heartening and inspiring. Each chapter provides valuable insights into the complex process of protecting historical places that reflect women's contributions to our nation's history. These stories highlight the importance of giving due recognition to sites connected to women's experiences and struggles.

Dr. Judith Wellman’s chapter, in particular, is… show more.

I knew nothing of the history of Seneca Falls, or the 1848 convention, or really the struggle for women’s rights. When I first proposed the simple idea of “a new park about women’s history,” I had never heard of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, a forceful leader in the struggle for women’s rights for decades.

Judy Wellman was researching her book when I opened the Women’s Rights National Historical Park in 1982. I hired Judy as the park historian in the opening year and was graced with her wisdom as we developed the first exhibits and programs. I and the park benefitted greatly from her research through my six years as the founding superintendent of the park.

I love this book and so wish it had been available to me, park planners, and the public in 1982. But it was published in 2011. I received it as a gift and did not immediately realize it was intended for young adults. But how significant is it to reach girls and boys while still young and unbiased so they could better understand their lives as they unfolded?

I loved that it was accessible in its words, and very much in its design. Lots of space, largish print, clearly written, all make it also very appropriate for women, and men, of my age, which is 82. Weakened eyesight, shorter attention spans, no base of information to build on, this book is perfect also for seniors who probably had no formal education in women’s history and women’s rights.

This historical novel centers around the life of a young girl called Pocahontas, who bears witness to the colonization of Jamestown. And unlike the popular Disney version, Peacemaker's Dream shows us the real life of this amazing heroine. We see her transition from a child to an adult, while getting involved with the colonists, and find out how heavy the price of peace can be. Truly, an eye-opening experience.

I quoted Mary Beard in the conclusion of my book, where I spoke of the position of women in the informal power structures of diplomacy.

The call for a redefinition of power in her manifesto Women & Power hit home for me. Beard points out how subjective our perception of power is, urging us to reflect on what power is for and how we measure it. Rather than just lamenting women’s lack of power through history, Beard adds another dimension by suggesting that it is not women we need to change, but rather our skewed definition of power. 

Her analysis of the relationship between women and power in the Western tradition provides a historical background of misogyny that is not only to the point but also a literary delight. Read it.

In 1973, this book broke daring new ground, inspiring me to become a feminist historian. Effortlessly, Sheila introduced readers to an extraordinary range of feminists—from C17th Mary Astell to Stella Browne, the C20th birth control campaigner.

No worries if you’ve not heard of these women: by the end, you’ll be as entranced as I was!

This is the very best book on nursing during the First World War. Packed with first-hand accounts of the ‘roses’ and their heroic efforts to nurse the wounded during and after that ghastly war that killed so many and destroyed the lives of many more who survived. Expertly contextualized, the author included the memories of the soldiers who were nursed and comforted by these extraordinary women who rose to the Government’s plea to ‘do their bit’. It is a profoundly moving book that should be read by anyone interested in the First World War and its painful aftermath.

This is an extraordinary story of a group of wives and mothers whose lives connected through a magazine called The Cooperative Correspondence Club. It is a brilliant read: a moving and intimate collection of personal stories and inseparable friendship covering the 1920s to the 1970s. I enjoyed every page, it was an exhilarating read, well written, and well researched. Anyone interested in twentieth-century women’s history must read this book.

On one level, this is a book about housework in the pre-Civil War northern United States. Much more profoundly, it shatters ideas about unpaid labor in early industrial capitalism. It completely changed my—and many readers’—ideas of what constitutes “work,” what it means to contribute to a household economy, and how ideas about wages (and, especially, work done by men outside the home) obscured early capitalists’ dependence on women’s unwaged work. After reading this, you’ll never refer to “women who worked” and “women who didn’t” again. It should be essential reading not only for women’s historians, but for anyone interested in ideologies of labor, capitalism, and the history of work.

[Full disclosure: I met Jeanne Boydston on my second day of graduate school and we collaborated closely on our dissertations (later books). She was my best friend and best teacher until her much-too-early death in 2008.]