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Sanger, Margaret,. 1879-1966. Childhood and youth. Juvenile fiction.
Sanger, Margaret,. 1879-1966. Childhood and youth. Fiction.
Family life. New York (State). Fiction.
Schools. Fiction.
Sex role. Fiction.
New York (State). History. 19th century. Fiction.
Mann's fictional interpretation of the life of Planned Parenthood's founder, Margaret Sanger, offers a thoughtful, topical approach, making the agitator for women's rights an understandable young woman. Born into the seemingly ever-growing Higgins family in late nineteenth-century Corning, New York, Margaret watches as her frail mother's health (and the family's economic well-being) declines with the birth of every brother and sister. Margaret's older sisters believed her talents deserve nurturing, and they valiantly support her private education until their funds run out. The woman who coined the term "birth control" is painted as a girl of persistence and grit. While she is called home to help during her mother's final decline, she determines to rise above circumstances and pursue medicine. Mann does well in her portrayal of a family hard-pressed by poverty and sets up Margaret's struggle with her parents' choices so it reflects on the concerns she grappled with as an adult. Readers who enjoy historical fiction and are interested in the women's rights movement's origins will find this a sympathetic read.
Horn Book (Thu Aug 01 00:00:00 CDT 2019)In this compelling piece of historical fiction, young Margaret Sanger watches her consumptive mother in near constant childbirth while helping to raise her many siblings. Margaret is painted as a feisty, free-spirited young woman frustrated by her limited options in the late 1880s. The novel doesn't cover her adult feminist activism or founding of Planned Parenthood, but a historical note explains more. Bib.
Kirkus ReviewsMaggie Higgins dreams of escaping the drudgery of the endless household duties that are a poor woman's lot in Corning, New York, in the late 1800s.Maggie is challenged by living with many siblings, her consumptive mother, and her freethinking, but somewhat shiftless, father. Inspired by the life of birth control pioneer Margaret Sanger, Mann (Scar, 2016, etc.) has created a sympathetic character in the rebellious Maggie. Most of the book's chapters move chronologically from the first introduction of 10-year-old Maggie in 1889 through her childhood, schooling, and departure for her new life as a nursing student in 1900. However, several chapters are set in 1899. The two timelines converge as Maggie copes with her mother's final illness and wrestles with her father's disapproval of her aspirations. Many of the most dramatic scenes are based in fact, as explained in the author's note, although more minor scenes and characters are fictional. Maggie's occasional thoughts ("I've almost never known my mother alone in her own body") make clear the seeds of Sanger's passion for family planning. The historical note provides additional information about her lifework and notably defends Sanger against the charges of racism that have been leveled against her in recent years. All characters are assumed white.An important, readable novel about Sanger, who changed the fate of millions of women through access to contraception. (historical note, author's note, bibliography) (Historical fiction. 11-17)
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)Mann-s novel, based on the youth of women-s health activist Margaret Higgins Sanger, explores the seeming futility of being an ambitious girl born into poverty in the late 19th century. The novel opens in 1899, as 20-year-old Maggie rushes home from an unwanted teaching job in New Jersey to her dying mother in Corning, N.Y., and closes a year later, as Maggie defiantly cuts her hair and leaves home permanently. In between those events, the book focuses on the grim details of Maggie-s adolescence as one of 10 children of a consumptive Catholic mother and an outspoken, self-centered father who was an alcoholic and a socialist. Mann (
Starred Review Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books
ALA Booklist (Thu Nov 01 00:00:00 CDT 2018)
Horn Book (Thu Aug 01 00:00:00 CDT 2019)
Kirkus Reviews
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)
Wilson's High School Catalog
March 1, 1899
I arrive on time for the earliest train with everything I own: a valise carrying two dresses, three pairs of knickers, a nightgown, and my silk gloves--all neatly folded and packed. My coat is buttoned to my chin to keep out the raw cold of early spring. My boots are laced up tightly. My hair is braided. My face is washed. Anyone witnessing my clipped stride as I enter Trenton Station would agree that I look like someone who is prepared to board a train. And I am prepared to board a train . . . I think.
They say my mother is dying--again. I don't believe it. In truth I suspect I'm being rushed home to save my father from a sink full of dirty dishes. Although I understand his confusion: According to this world, a man confronted with the prospect of washing his own burnt saucepan is considered to be in quite dire circumstances. Either way, I have been summoned.
I admit I don't regret having to leave my teaching job in New Jersey. It hadn't turned out as I'd expected. Or rather it turned out exactly as I'd expected, though I'd held out hope for the contrary. I wanted to believe that once inside the classroom, I'd discover the joy in educating children, as so many others had before me. But I didn't. The four walls of the classroom felt like a trap. The repetition of information, another trap. Unfortunately, what choice did I have but to teach? The same choice I now have to return home to clean the kitchen. Not only are women reduced to marry, maid, or schoolmarm, but men seem to be in control of which one we get to do at any moment.
I make my way toward the platform, dodging fellow passengers while my ears are assaulted by the echo of gate announcements. Leaving is the right thing to do. Going home is the right thing to do. And so I am bound for Corning, New York.
A whistle shrieks. My train appears as a silent flash of light, and I move to pick up my bag, dipping unsteadily since I'd never placed it down. The glint glows brighter and brighter, and is followed by a faint, far-off rumbling like a growing storm. The rumble grows into a roar, until it feels as if the massive engine barreling down on the station will drive straight through my ribs, slicing me in two. I close my eyes, welcoming the dissection . . . imagining half of me flung high up over the tracks and spinning off unfettered into the city's morning rush, while the other half, flattened and stiff, marches itself aboard the train. They truly only need half of me at home. In fact, they'd all be happier with half, as long as it is the half that cooks and cleans without complaint. But who am I fooling, there isn't the smallest piece of me able to do these things without complaint. I'm more afraid of that burnt saucepan than my father is.
The platform shakes as my train thunders into the station, and though I plant my boots firmly on the platform, I can't stop my entire body from shaking with it. Car after car after car hurtles by. At last the metal wheels squeal to a stop, sounding like a giant tea kettle going off, and the deafening hiss of steam that I'd been anticipating, nevertheless sends my heart skidding. The doors rattle and then open with a disappointing thud.
The platform erupts with sound and movement--a flurry of faces, voices, and trunks. People flow from the opened doors of the train like a colorful river, bobbing and cascading toward the staircases. Others pool around the doors waving tickets, clamoring to board.
I should get on.
Almost as suddenly as it started, the commotion slows. Trunks are hauled away. Passengers settle into their seats. The conductor, a heavyset man wearing a too-tight blue uniform, walks the length of three train cars in either direction giving everyone a last chance to disembark or board.
I really should get on.
My eyes fix on the open train door, a portal promising to whisk me away from my recent failure . . . only to drop me directly on the front steps of all my old ones.
I'm the only one left on the platform. The conductor glances my way. I see a spark of recognition in his eyes. He must remember me from yesterday morning. Or possibly the morning before that. But it's not his business whether or not I get on the train, and the annoyed expression on his face makes this perfectly clear as he grants me one more moment to decide.
Deep inside I hear her. My mother. Margaret Louise, she says. It's all she says. But it means so many things. Stop fooling around. This is the way it is. Get on the train.
Excerpted from What Every Girl Should Know: Margaret Sanger's Journey by J. Albert Mann
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
This compelling historical novel spans the early and very formative years of feminist and women’s health activist Margaret Sanger, founder of Planned Parenthood, as she struggles to find her way amidst the harsh realities of poverty.
Margaret was determined to get out. She didn’t want to clean the dirty dishes and soiled diapers that piled up day in and day out in her large family’s small home. She didn’t want to disappoint her ailing mother, who cared tirelessly for an ever-growing number of children despite her incessant cough. And Margaret certainly didn’t want to be labeled a girl of “promise,” destined to become either a teacher or a mother—which seemed to be a woman’s only options.
As a feisty and opinionated young woman, Margaret Higgins Sanger witnessed and experienced incredible hardships, which led to her groundbreaking work as an advocate for women’s rights and the founder of Planned Parenthood. This fiery novel of Margaret’s early life paints the portrait of a young woman with the passion and courage to change the world.