Women looking for a role for themselves in World War I: Amy Stewart's Kopp Sisters on the March

I only discovered Amy Stewart's series of novels about Constance Kopp and her sisters a few months ago, but I read the entire series right away. Constance and her sisters, as well as many other characters in this (so far) 5-book series, are drawn from true figures in U.S. history, as well as the events that happened to them. Stewart doesn't offer us a dry accounting of these historical figures, however, but rather fleshes out the storyline in ways that I find completely compelling. From tracking down the criminal who is threatening her family to taking up a position as sheriff's deputy to (in the latest novel) joining one of the homegrown war camps for women, Constance Kopp is a tough and thoroughly likeable character.

At the center of each of Stewart's novel is a feminist recovery of U.S. history in the early twentieth century. When Constance becomes the matron of the county jail, for example, she realizes how morality laws are unequally targeting young women who resist their parents' control. Realizing that these laws have the ability to ruin women's lives by locking them away in reform schools for many years or sending them to prison, Constance works to make her own contribution to reforming the system. As a result, all of her actions infuriate the local prosecutor who sees no role for women in law enforcement and wants to run for political office as someone who reined in the county's wayward young women. Stewart uses the Kopp sisters' story as a means to shed light on gendered histories. Along the way, she tells a really good story.

In this latest installment, Kopp Sisters on the March, Constance, Norma, and Fleurette want to contribute to the war effort, so they go off to a training camp for women. Right from the beginning, Constance questions its seriousness and how that lack of seriousness reflects the government's unwillingness to take women's potential contributions seriously. Constance, as always, gets involved and tries to effect as much change as she can. Alongside her, Norma is determined to make the army realize the usefulness of a carrier pigeon brigade and Fleurette is determined to put on a show for the women that mirrors the shows being put on for male soldiers. Stewart makes these interwoven stories both serious and funny.

Parallel to the Kopp sisters' narrative is the tale of Beulah Binson, a character based on the real life woman. This sub-plot comes together nicely at the end, but I became impatient with the drawn out unfolding of her story. It was clear that there was some huge scandal related to her, but we don't find out all the details until about 4/5 of the way through the story. As I read, I found myself much more interested in what was happening at the camp than in Beulah's flashbacks.

On the whole, though, I'd definitely recommend this latest installment, and I'm already looking forward to the next one.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley and from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

In case you've ever wondered how things turned out for Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Collins: Molly Greeley's The Clergyman's Wife

Some recent Austen adaptations have reimagined Pride and Prejudice from different racial, ethnic, or national perspectives (e.g., Ibi Zoboi's Pride, Corrie Garrett's Pride and Prejudice and Passports, and Soniah Kamal's Unmarriageable). These adaptations illustrate how questions of class, economics, and female independence continue to resonate beyond nineteenth-century drawing rooms.

Molly Greeley's new novel, The Clergyman's Wife (coming out Dec. 3, 2019), functions in a different way. This novel extends the storyline of Pride and Prejudice to three years after the original novel's conclusion. Told from Charlotte Collins's point of view, this story not only imagines what happens to the couple, but also how Charlotte feels about her marriage to the ridiculous Mr. Collins.

In that way, it's a fantasy novel. The Charlotte Lucas of Austen's novel reveals so little about her thoughts beyond her practical view of marriage and the ways that she has accommodated her married life to carve out some space and time for herself outside of her husband's sycophantic devotion to Lady Catherine. The Charlotte Collins of Greeley's novel is no less practical or accommodating, but her frustration with her husband gets full expression, as well as her frustration that she had so few other options.

To some extent, this novel mirrors Patricia Rozema's film adaptation of Mansfield Park (1999). Rozema re-writes Fanny Price to be a much more spirited character, melding her with a fantasy vision of an outspoken Jane Austen and a Fanny who is less sanctimonious and more rebellious. Greeley's Charlotte Collins has to work hard not to roll her eyes at her husband's behavior or Lady Catherine's rudeness. She also has desires for connection and community that can't be fully suppressed.

I won't give away what happens, except to say that I was wrapped up in Charlotte's story and in much suspense about where it was heading.

I received an ARC of this novel from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.