Lydia Reeder’s The Cure for Women unravels the historical and sociopolitical tensions that shaped the evolution of women in medicine during the Victorian era. The book offers a vivid portrait of trailblazing women like Mary Putnam Jacobi who combated the deeply ingrained patriarchy of the medical field. Reeder chronicles how Victorian male doctors used pseudoscience to discredit women’s intellectual and physical capabilities, asserting that their reproductive biology rendered them unsuitable for higher education or professional careers.
Reeder’s work is a dynamic combination of historical storytelling, social commentary, and feminist triumph. The book serves not just as an account of Mary Putnam Jacobi’s contributions to women’s rights but also as a call to critically examine the ongoing struggles women face in fields dominated by archaic gender norms. Here’s a detailed exploration of the book’s strengths and occasional shortcomings.
The Historical Backdrop: Pseudoscience and Patriarchy
Reeder begins her narrative with an exploration of the sociopolitical forces that shaped Victorian medicine. She introduces a chilling landscape where elite male physicians like Edward H. Clarke perpetuated the myth that women’s menstrual cycles made them biologically inferior and unsuited for intellectual or professional endeavors. Drawing on distorted interpretations of Darwinism, these physicians weaponized pseudoscience to enforce gender roles.
The book succeeds in capturing the broader historical context that fueled this oppression. Reeder paints a vivid picture of the societal obsession with eugenics and how it intertwined with medical discourse to deny women access to education. This backdrop is critical in understanding the uphill battle faced by Mary Putnam Jacobi and her contemporaries. However, at times, the breadth of historical detail can overwhelm the narrative focus, slowing down the momentum of Jacobi’s story.
Mary Putnam Jacobi: A Revolutionary in a Restrictive World
At the heart of the book is Mary Putnam Jacobi, a fiercely intelligent and determined woman who dared to challenge the medical establishment. Reeder portrays Jacobi not just as a scientist but as a visionary who understood the broader implications of women’s exclusion from medicine. Jacobi’s groundbreaking research on women’s reproductive biology debunked myths that had long been used to justify gender inequality. Her work proved that menstruation did not impair a woman’s ability to pursue education or professional careers.
Reeder’s portrayal of Jacobi is deeply empathetic. She highlights Jacobi’s struggles with systemic sexism, the personal sacrifices she made, and her resilience in the face of relentless opposition. Yet, Reeder also humanizes Jacobi by delving into her moments of self-doubt and vulnerability, making her story all the more relatable and inspiring.
A Cast of Larger-than-Life Characters
The narrative is populated with a vibrant cast of characters, each representing different facets of the struggle for women’s rights. Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to graduate from medical school in the United States, emerges as a mentor figure to Jacobi, though her ideological clashes with Jacobi add depth to their relationship. Reeder also introduces us to Ann Preston, another pioneering woman in medicine, whose unwavering dedication complements Jacobi’s scientific rigor.
Equally fascinating are the antagonists: Edward H. Clarke, Silas Weir Mitchell, and J. Marion Sims, who embody the entrenched patriarchy of the Victorian medical establishment. Reeder excels in dissecting their motivations, revealing how fear, privilege, and ignorance drove their opposition to women’s advancement. However, these depictions occasionally veer into caricature, which might detract from the complexity of these historical figures.
Writing Style: Cinematic and Engaging
Reeder’s writing is undeniably one of the book’s strengths. Her prose is cinematic, immersing readers in the sights and sounds of 19th-century America and Europe. From bustling New York streets to the hallowed halls of the Sorbonne, Reeder brings every setting to life with meticulous detail. Her use of primary sources, such as letters and speeches, adds authenticity to the narrative.
However, the writing sometimes leans too heavily on dramatic flourishes, which can feel out of place in a book rooted in historical scholarship. Additionally, Reeder’s attempts to draw parallels between Victorian pseudoscience and modern-day gender debates are compelling but occasionally feel forced, disrupting the historical flow of the narrative.
Themes: Science as a Tool of Liberation
One of the book’s central themes is the transformative power of science. Mary Putnam Jacobi’s insistence on evidence-based medicine was revolutionary in an era dominated by untested theories and sexist assumptions. Reeder emphasizes how Jacobi’s work laid the groundwork for modern medical advancements and women’s rights.
The book also explores the intersectionality of gender and race in the fight for equality. While the primary focus is on white women’s struggles, Reeder acknowledges the additional barriers faced by women of color, particularly in a field as exclusionary as medicine. This nuanced approach enriches the narrative and broadens its relevance.
Critiques: Where the Book Falls Short
While The Cure for Women is a compelling read, it is not without its flaws:
- Pacing Issues: The narrative occasionally gets bogged down in historical minutiae, which can detract from the central story. A more focused approach might have better served the book’s overarching message.
- Missed Opportunities: While Reeder draws connections between historical and contemporary issues, these insights are often surface-level. A deeper exploration of how Victorian-era pseudoscience continues to influence modern medical biases would have strengthened the book’s impact.
- Limited Representation: Although Reeder touches on the challenges faced by women of color, their stories are largely relegated to the margins. Given the book’s focus on inclusivity, this feels like a missed opportunity to highlight the contributions and struggles of women from diverse backgrounds.
Personal Take: Why This Book Matters
Reading The Cure for Women is both a sobering and inspiring experience. As someone deeply invested in the intersection of history, science, and gender studies, I found Reeder’s narrative to be a powerful reminder of how far we’ve come—and how much further we still have to go. Mary Putnam Jacobi’s story is a testament to the resilience of women who refuse to accept the limitations imposed upon them.
At the same time, the book left me reflecting on the insidious ways in which pseudoscience continues to perpetuate gender inequality. From debates over women’s health care to the underrepresentation of women in STEM fields, the legacy of Victorian sexism is far from eradicated. Reeder’s book is a timely call to action for those committed to dismantling these systemic barriers.
Comparative Works
For readers interested in similar themes, The Cure for Women aligns well with books like:
- The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot: Both works reveal the intersection of gender, race, and science in shaping medical history.
- Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly: Like Reeder’s book, this story highlights the overlooked contributions of women in male-dominated fields.
Conclusion: A Must-Read for Advocates of Equality
The Cure for Women by Lydia Reeder is a meticulously researched and passionately written account of one woman’s fight against a medical establishment steeped in misogyny. It is both a tribute to the pioneers who paved the way for women in medicine and a cautionary tale about the dangers of pseudoscience.
Despite its minor flaws, the book is an essential read for anyone interested in history, feminism, or medicine. It challenges readers to confront uncomfortable truths about the past while inspiring them to envision a more equitable future.
