Tag Archives: biography

Dispatches from the Writing Life #10: Revisions, Real and Imagined

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This past Tuesday, I enjoyed presenting “She Defied Them All.” This talk about Dr. Mary Walker is now available on John Heckman’s YouTube channel, The Tattooed Historian, for you to watch at your leisure. You can also find The Tattooed Historian page on Facebook, Instagram, this podcast, and on Substack. A lot of good history content is there.

Any presentation I give is the result of several days of preparation. I start with a basic set of PowerPoint slides and corresponding notecards (to keep me from wandering from my point) that I created back in 2020, when Dr. Mary Walker’s Civil War first came out. Then I tailor it for each individual event. This time, the talk revolved around the theme of defiance, and plenty of it was in evidence throughout Walker’s life.

That tailoring means I reread portions of my own book to reacquaint myself with the details of Mary Walker’s experiences and beliefs. And that’s hard for me to do because I always, always find sentences, paragraphs, and even entire pages that I wish I could rewrite to make them better. It’s less about historical facts and analysis and more about style.

I have yet to find the sweet spot where historical analysis meets elegant narrative. I have to keep working at it. I do this by doing: writing and rewriting. I also read books on craft written by very accomplished people. I take workshops with very accomplished people. I read and reread books that I admire.

Right now, I’m in awe of Julia Cooke’s style. I finished reading Starry and Restless: Three Women Who Changed Work, Writing, and the World this week, and it’s one of the best books I’ve read so far this year. That’s the way I wish I could write. It’s something to aim for.

And this may be one of the reasons why I’ve been drawn to Jane Grant’s story. She tried to do so many things with her life and rarely achieved the success she envisioned. In writing about her life, I am trying to uncover the source(s) of her motivation, how she handled disappointments, and what she marked as achievements.

These are the things I think about as I continue with this new draft of the Jane Grant book. It seems about as rough as the last one. But I’m still at it every day, still sticking with my decision to carve out a whole separate chapter about Jane’s determination to get the France during World War I. I think it’s crucial for understanding her aspirations for her career and her personal life. And it was a pivotal time for thousands of American women who, like Jane, felt compelled to decide how (or if) they were going to support the war effort.

Women’s History Month

It’s almost over for 2026. Pamela Toler’s annual WHM blog series on History in the Margins ends today, but you can always read the pieces any time. Be sure to take a look.

What I’m Reading

My leisure reading book is Ocean Vuong’s luminous novel, The Emperor of Gladness. I had to skip the section about the hogs.

I’ve started The Typewriter and the Guillotine: An American Journalist, a German Serial Killer, and Paris on the Eve of WWII by Mark Braude. Not that you would know it from the title (I know title and cover design are about marketing and selling books), but it’s about the great writer Janet Flanner, who Jane Grant recruited in 1925 as the Paris correspondent for The New Yorker.

I probably would never have picked up this book if I hadn’t read a review of it that actually identified Flanner as that American journalist. For me, that’s the book’s biggest draw. So far, I’ve been enjoying the sections about her life in France and her writing career. I’m curious about how and why a serial killer becomes important to Flanner. So, I keep reading.

I also have Gayle Feldman’s magisterial Nothing Random: Bennett Cerf and the Publishing House He Built. I’ve only looked through the table of contents, index, bibliography, and skimmed some of the 800+ pages of text. I don’t know how much of it I’ll have the time to read.

What I’m Watching

One episode in on each of the new PBS dramas, The Forsytes and The Count of Monte Cristo.

Started the new Netflix series, Detective Hole, set in contemporary Oslo, Norway.

Another weekly episode of Mudtown (BritBox), a crime series set in Wales, featuring a female magistrate. It’s intense.

Only one episode left of Young Sherlock (Prime)

The filler sitcom has been Animal Control (Netflix), an amusing workplace comedy.

Still haven’t been back to Hope Street (BritBox) or Scarpetta (Prime).

What Else Is Happening

Back to two games of mediocre bowling for me. But it was still fun.

Almost all the snow from the big blizzard is gone. The birds are singing again in the morning. I watched a young buck saunter through the back forty here at Southfork. But I haven’t seen any new greenery popping up yet.

Thanks for reading!

Dispatches from the Writing Life #8: Jane Grant in Love?

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I became totally engrossed with archival sources when I decided to look more closely at Jane’s pre-World War I romances. I spent the whole week not only piecing together her love life but also thinking about how and why people choose which documents to keep with them throughout their lives and how those items end up in boxes in archives for researchers to later scrutinize.

The papers in this particular box of Jane’s papers that are held at the University of Oregon comprise her correspondence from 1911-1918, but it is one-sided, made up of letters she received. Sometimes they provide clues about what Jane had written to prompt a response, sometimes they don’t. It’s up to the historian to figure out what was going on.

For example, one letter, undated (which adds another layer of difficulty), was addressed to “My Dear Little Jeanette” (Jane’s legal first name) and signed “Geo.” Someone had penciled in a date range of 1912-1915 at the top of the first page, which confirmed a year referred to by “Geo” within the letter.

The letterhead was printed with “Newton Farm, Los Gatos, California.” It was easy to conclude that the letter was written by George Newton. Supplied with a date range, location, and name, I turned to Ancestry and Newspapers.com, two online library databases. A few hours of searching enabled me to make some informed assumptions.

George F. Newton, born in Iowa and in the mid-1910s somewhere in his middling forties, owned the eponymous farm, but used it as a country getaway. He and his new wife Avis, some twelve years his junior, lived most of the year in the San Francisco/Oakland area where he ran a fireworks company.

Newton wrote to Jane to thank her for her “sweet little birthday letter.” Because he told her he couldn’t spend much time on the farm until after the Fourth of July (a big day for fireworks) and because he encouraged her to come visit in 1915, I think the letter was written in the spring or early summer of 1914.

But it’s not clear how Jane knew Newton. At one point, when he was young, his family lived in Kansas, so it’s possible he was an old family friend or even a relative. In the opening salutation, he called her Jeanette, the name she tried to put behind her when she moved to New York.

I’m still trying to figure out if this sentence provides a clue about their relationship: “I have the limousine in the city and think of you every time I ride in it.” Did Newton know about Jane’s career ambitions, and did he pick up on her desire to have fine things?

Newton wasn’t angling for an affair, though. Twice in the letter he mentioned his wife, and he explained the reason behind his invitation to visit. “I am sure you could get along better here than in that big cold city of N.Y. Mrs. Newton says for you to come out here and call us Father and Mother and see how you like this country. If I can find you a position in advance will you come?” Newton understood that Jane’s career was important to her.

And here’s the connection to Jane’s love life. Newton tried to sweeten the offer in his P.S.: “I have a dandy handsome fellow picked out here for you his name is Billie.” Apparently, he knew about how she socialized with young men and wanted to assure her that she would have plenty of options in California. But maybe Jane worried that Newton’s main purpose was to get her married and settled. That was not what she wanted.

It’s not surprising that Jane didn’t take Newton up on his offer. His letter only indirectly refers to Jane’s dating. There are no other letters in the collection from Newton, but there are some from men that provide more evidence about her relationships. These men were involved with her, and thought they knew her and knew how she felt about them. But it seemed they were very wrong.

For some reason, these letters ended up with all of Jane’s other papers at the University of Oregon. It’s hard to know if she kept them on purpose because they brought back particular memories, or if they just got stuck in a folder somewhere and never got tossed out. This may all become clearer after I conduct another round of research. Or it may not.

Women’s History Month

A reminder that I will appear live on John Heckman’s YouTube channel on March 24 at 2:00 p.m. Central to talk about Dr. Mary Walker. The installment bears the bold title, “She Defied Them All.” You can find The Tattooed Historian’s page on Facebook, follow him on Instagram, listen to his podcast, read him on Substack, and/or watch his YouTube channel.

Also remember to check out Pamela Toler’s annual WHM series on her blog, History in the Margins. She runs the best Q&As with people who write women’s history.

What I’m Reading

I picked up my library copy of Starry and Restless: Three Women Who Changed Work, Writing, and the World by Julia Cooke. I’ve been particularly interested to read about Emily Hahn, one of the women I wrote about in my very first book, Prisoners in Paradise. I’m pleased to see that Jane Grant’s name pops up a few times in Starry and Restless, and the book had got me thinking about some of the choices Jane made during the 1930s, after she’d been shut out of The New Yorker and she left her job at the New York Times. Jane was restless then, but not, I think, starry.

I’m continuing with Mike Pitts’s Island at the Edge of the World: The Forgotten History of Easter Island. It still holds my interest.

For pure leisure reading, I’ve been enjoying Dinner at the Night Library, a novel by Hika Harada, translated by Philip Gabriel.

What I’m Watching

Started Mudtown (BritBox), a crime series set in Wales, featuring a female magistrate, and it’s good so far. Better though—at least based on the first two episodes—is Young Sherlock (Prime). I always like a good reimagining of Sherlock Holmes.

I’m much more on the fence after watching the first episode of Scarpetta (Prime). I don’t mind the dual timeline, but the portion that takes place in the present day (with Nicole Kidman as Kay Scarpetta) reminds me of why I stopped reading the novels by Patricia Cornwell that the series is based on.

Hope Street (BritBox) has been a bit uneven, but I’ve been enjoying How to Get to Heaven from Belfast (Netflix).

Finished Starfleet Academy (Paramount+) and The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix). The season finale of Starfleet displayed the qualities I’d hoped to see in all of the episodes but didn’t.

What Else I’ve Been Doing

Weekly bowling, two games. The first was abysmal, the second mediocre. So, progress, I guess.

Almost finished another very small sewing project: hemming a pair of jeans, something I’ve been meaning to do ever since I bought them two or three years ago. No matter how much I measure and pin and try them on, I keep thinking I’m going to make them too short.

Thanks for reading. I’m not sure what’s more ferocious than a March lion, but whatever it is, it’s barreling into the upper Midwest. Between Saturday night and Monday morning there might be at least twenty inches of snow, accompanied by high winds. Here at Southfork, we’re under a blizzard warning, and there is ample gasoline for the snowblower and a fully stocked refrigerator, both courtesy of the foreman (who is also my bowling partner and my partner in everything, especially life).

See you next week.

Dispatches from the Writing Life #4: Valentine’s Day Edition

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Today is Valentine’s Day, so it’s perhaps fitting that in chapter three of my book about Jane Grant, she meets Harold Ross. He becomes her first husband, and together they create The New Yorker. But that comes later.

In this chapter, Jane is overseas with the YMCA in 1918-1919 doing war work. Both adventurous and practical, she couldn’t wait to get to France. She knew that a few female journalists had managed, despite military restrictions, to get across the Atlantic and file stories about World War I. But the New York Times wouldn’t send her as a reporter, so she applied to one of the government-sanctioned service organizations that hired women for clerical work, nursing, and entertainment. Jane figured she was qualified for two out of those three, and she believed that whatever her posting entailed, it would somehow further her career.

[Jane Grant, c. 1918-1919, Jane Grant papers, University of Oregon]

The Y sent Jane to Tours, France, but her friend and colleague from the Times, Alexander Woollcott, pulled strings to get her to Paris. He had been in the army since 1917, and now, as a sergeant, he worked in Paris on the staff of the American Expeditionary Forces’ Stars and Stripes. Jane easily fell in with that newspaper crowd, and it was Woollcott who introduced her to Ross, editor of the publication. It was not love at first sight, but the attraction was strong enough to induce Ross to take a job in New York City after the war to be near Jane.

This chapter revision is ongoing. There is less to weed out, and more to weave in.

What I’m Reading

I started a novel, The Wilderness, by Angela Flournoy. Good so far. I read her first, The Turner House, back in 2016, and I noted this on Goodreads: This is a lovely, lovely novel. Set in contemporary Detroit, it tells the tale of a large family still dealing with the death of the patriarch and with the rapid decline of the matriarch. The fate of the family home, which has fallen into considerable disrepair, is a point of contention among the 13 siblings. And there’s a haint. Wonderful.

I’m continuing with Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife by Francesca Wade and Lorissa Rinehart’s Winning the Earthquake. I can’t renew the Stein biography, so I have to make sure that takes precedence during my reading time. I’m pretty sure the only thing of Stein’s I’ve read is The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, and probably only selections from it, a long, long time ago. I doubt that I would have much patience for her modern, experimental work.

I finally finished Vanity Fair, and I’m very glad. I’m participating in a Zoom book discussion this coming Wednesday night.

What I’m Watching

Starfleet Academy (Paramount+), Grace (BritBox), All Creatures (PBS), and The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix) remain in rotation. I still like Grace the best—good storylines and an efficient use of the 90-minute format. I also started The Game, also on BritBox, which has more thriller elements than I like, but the acting is good and there are only four episodes, so I think I can see it through.

What Else I’ve Been Doing

I made progress on my review of a book proposal for an academic press, so I remain on track to meet the deadline.

The weekly bowling took place, the usual two games. Overall, I rolled pretty mediocre. But there was a bright spot: I made three spares in a row, which I kind thought might be referred to as a chicken. It made sense to me since three strikes in a row is a turkey, and I figured a chicken was the next bird down, size-wise. When I finally remembered to look it up, I learned to my absolute delight that three spares in a row are called a sparrow. Perfection!

Happy Valentine’s Day! (to those who celebrate)

Thanks for reading. Check back next week to see how far the chapter three revisions have progressed.

Dispatches from the Writing Life #3: In Which There is Progress

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I finished revisions on chapter two. Finally, progress.

The challenge was to take two rough chapters and combine them into one. I find it difficult to jettison material (though I safely store it in a scrap file, just in case), whether it’s from primary or secondary sources, because it interested me enough to include it in the first draft.

But what interests me doesn’t always serve the story. The story I need to tell in this chapter is about Jane Grant’s first years of working at the New York Times. She was in her 20s and still harbored hopes of a singing career. Jane viewed the job at the Times as a means to an end, a way to support herself while she went out on auditions and took on performing gigs. Key to the chapter is how and why Jane became a journalist.

Now that I have that all set up, I’m getting ready to move on to the third chapter, which highlights another pivotal point in Jane’s life: working overseas for the YMCA during World War I. A lot of revisions will go into this, too, because I also spread these events over two draft chapters. Does the story require all of that material, all of those pages? That’s what I’m going to be working through. Luckily, I’ve had a lot of recent practice.

What I’m Reading

Many of the books on my library hold list come from reading Nancy Bekofske’s blog The Literate Quilter. She reviews a variety of fiction and nonfiction, even poetry. It’s a great way to keep up with forthcoming and recent publications.

I finished Palace of Deception: Museum Men and the Rise of Scientific Racism by Darrin Lunde and liked it well enough, especially the behind-the-scenes stories of how museums acquire collections. Lunde is also very good at delving into the characters of these museum men. But because of my own particular interests, I found myself more drawn to the women who, in this telling, existed on the periphery of these events.

I started Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife by Francesca Wade. The first sentences of the prologue are stunning: “She came to Paris, she said, to kill the nineteenth century. Her weapons were a pencil and a supply of softcover notebooks, her targets dullness and cliché. She chopped off her long coils of hair and dispensed with punctuation….” There is Stein, fully alive, confident in her importance. Moreover, a casual look at the notes section of the book reveals an impressive amount of archival sources and ample citations for quotes and other information found in the text. Wade also discusses some of the process of her research in her acknowledgements. These are the kinds of things I regularly look at in nonfiction books.

I continue to read Lorissa Rinehart’s Winning the Earthquake: How Jeannette Rankin Defied All Odds to Become the First Woman in Congress. Consider these first sentences: “Her water broke. Mary, the family cook, helped her into bed. Besides Mary, Olive Rankin was alone on the ranch situated in Grant Creek Valley, some six thousand feet above Missoula, Montana.” And the beginning of the third paragraph: “Between contractions, Olive tried to focus on the wildflowers painting the mountainsides. White yarrow and purple lupine.” It’s all very evocative, but my first thought was, “How do we know?” The notes section doesn’t provide an answer. The information may have come from a previous biography of Rankin written by the late Norma Smith and published in 2002. Or Rinehart may have imagined the scene, leaning into creative nonfiction. I always prefer a sharp delineation between fact and imagination.

I’m still reading Vanity Fair. Still. But I’m closing in on the end.

What I’m Watching

The final episodes of Shetland and Bookish were both good, though I like the Shetland series more than Bookish. Maybe it’s because of a familiarity with the characters. But Bookish seemed a bit tentative about where it was going and what it wants to be. Still, I’m willing to watch the next season.

My ambivalence about Starfleet Academy continues. All Creatures Great and Small remains a good comfort watch, though I wish the female characters had better storylines.

New seasons of Grace (BritBox) and The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix) have moved into my rotation. I appreciate that Grace solves one crime per 90-minute episode. The Lincoln Lawyer is going to be a tense season, with Mickey Haller in jail awaiting his murder trial.

I also saw Agatha and the Truth of Murder (Prime), a re-imagining of what happened during Agatha Christie’s disappearance in the 1920s. I liked it.

What Else I’ve Been Doing

I was asked by an academic press to review a book proposal, and I need to finish that before the end of February. This is not the kind of deadline that can be elastic. It’s not fair to keep a hopeful author waiting any longer than necessary.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday to all who celebrate. May your favorite team win. And happy Olympics viewing, too.

Thanks for reading. Find out next week how chapter three is coming along.

My 2025 Reading, Part Two: Nonfiction

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This may be a first for my annual list of nonfiction favorites, but it’s certainly not surprising. All fifteen of the books listed below, plus a bonus title, were written by women. And all fifteen are about women. Unusual and a bit surprising: I read several memoirs.

In my last post I mentioned that I sometimes forget to log my books on Goodreads, which makes tallying up a year’s worth of reading inexact. I’m leading the 2025 list with my most embarrassing omission from last year because I can’t bear for everyone not to know that it’s one of my favorite works of nonfiction. The rest are listed roughly in the order in which I read them.

1. The Dragon from Chicago: The Untold Story of an American Reporter in Nazi Germany by Pamela D. Toler. This is an excellent and much needed biography of Sigrid Schultz, the Chicago Tribune’s bureau chief and foreign correspondent in Central Europe who warned about the dangers of Adolf Hitler and Nazism. The book received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Kirkus Reviews, and it was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times’s 2024 Book Prize in Biography.

2. The Icon and the Idealist: Margaret Sanger, Mary Ware Dennett, and the Rivalry That Brought Birth Control to America by Stephanie Gorton. A first-rate dual biography of two of the most important birth control activists in United States history. Sanger’s name is the more familiar of the two, but Gorton convincingly demonstrates that Dennett deserves just as much attention. I’ve long been a huge fan of Dennett so was particularly pleased to see her in the limelight. And she’s the subject of an Ogden Nash poem, probably the only verse I know by heart.

I for one
Think the country would be better run,
If Mary Ware Dennett
Explained things to the Senate.

3. The Many Lives of Anne Frank by Ruth Franklin. I first read The Diary of a Young Girl in a grade school English class. Over the years, I’ve read the expanded versions as well as books about Frank, her family, and the people who made the Secret Annex possible. Franklin combines a well-written biography of Anne Frank with investigations into the various forms of the diary, the ways in which it has been dramatized for stage and screen, and how Frank has become a fictional character in the works of other authors. Fascinating all the way through.

4. Tell Me a Story Where the Bad Girl Wins: The Life and Art of Barbara Shermund by Caitlin McGurk. This biography wins Best Title of the Year, at least as far as me and my list are concerned. Who wouldn’t want to hear that story? And McGurk has done a marvelous job of situating artist Shermund in her proper place in the history of American illustrators and cartoonists. I was especially intrigued with Shermund’s work for The New Yorker during its early years, when Jane Grant was still around. The two women probably had a lot in common.

5. After Lives: On Biography and the Mysteries of the Human Heart by Megan Marshall. These essays, by a genius biographer, blend memoir with craft advice. It’s all beautifully written and inspiring.

6. Wifedom: Mrs. Orwell’s Invisible Life by Anna Funder. Wow, wow, wow. An insightful, incisive biography of Eileen O’Shaughnessy, who married George Orwell. Funder shows exactly what O’Shaughnessy contributed to the artistic success of Orwell and explores how and why she was pretty much written out of the biographies of the author. The book has made a huge impact on how I view Jane Grant.

7. Dust and Light: On the Art of Fact in Fiction by Andrea Barrett. I adore Barrett’s fiction, and I loved her take on novelists’ use of history in their (and her own) work. Beautiful.

8. The Trouble of Color: An American Family Memoir by Martha S. Jones. Jones is a brilliant historian, and she has deployed her formidable skills to answer a personal question for herself: “Who do you think you are?” Her search takes her through her family’s history, which included enslavement, as she grapples with the meaning of color in the lives of her ancestors—and herself.  

9. The Last American Road Trip: A Memoir by Sarah Kendzior. A family memoir of a different kind, Kendzior looks at politics and society in America, past and present, through road trips she takes with her family during the pandemic years. I admired the gorgeous writing, the strong sense of place, and the whiffs of nostalgia infused with a bit of hopefulness.

10. Marion Greenwood: Portrait and Self-Portrait—A Biography by Joanne B. Mulcahy. This biography focuses on all the things I’m drawn to in this genre: a once well-known woman, incredibly smart and talented, whose political beliefs led her to live an unconventional life, who somehow disappears from history. Greenwood, a devotee of social realism, painted some of the most stunning murals and portraits in the first half of the twentieth century. Mulcahy, with her usual elegant prose, reminds us why it’s still important to know about her.

11. Birding to Change the World: A Memoir by Trish O’Kane. Originally an investigative journalist, O’Kane switched careers after Hurricane Katrina upended her life. She developed an interest in birds, enrolled in an environmental studies Ph.D. program, and embarked on a social justice campaign to save a local park from over-development. O’Kane’s passion and dedication shine through—for her academic work and love of learning, her community and its people, and the many species of birds she encounters.

12. Foreign Fruit: A Personal History of the Orange by Katie Goh. Goh traces the history of the orange as she untangles the strands of her multi-cultural heritage. She travels from Ireland to China and Malaysia to connect with far flung family members, seeking answers about her identity. The orange, with its own complicated history, gives her grounding and perspective. I liked this unique approach to memoir.

13. The Girl in the Middle: A Recovered History of the American West by Martha A. Sandweiss. The presence of a Native American girl, Sophie Mousseau, in an 1868 photograph taken at Fort Laramie is Sandweiss’s jumping off point for this meticulous work of history about post-Civil War America and westward expansion. It’s a densely packed story, and Sandweiss’s other real-life characters, including photographer Alexander Gardner and Union general William S. Harney, occupy much of the narrative. But Mousseau is a constant, almost haunting presence, at the heart of the story.

14. Sisters of Influence: A Biography of Zina, Amy, and Rose Fay by Andrea Friederici Ross. During the Victorian era, known for its constraints on women’s behavior, these three sisters pushed at the boundaries of those expectations to make names for themselves in music, writing, and domestic reform. It’s an absorbing family biography, and Ross calmly and ably juggles all the different personalities.

15. Joyride: A Memoir by Susan Orlean. I’m a fan of Orlean but not a super fan. I haven’t read everything she’s written but I liked The Library Book and many of her articles. Reading this memoir provides the sense of exhilaration portrayed on the book’s cover. I was fascinated by how Orlean carved out a career as a writer and enjoyed the snippets of her personal life that she included.

Bonus book:

How to Write a Bestseller: An Insider’s Guide to Writing Narrative Nonfiction for General Audiences by Tilar J. Mazzeo. A former academic who has written bestsellers, and Mazzeo provides practical advice to narrative nonfiction writers, especially those who want to move away from scholarly writing. It’s one of the most helpful how-to writing books I’ve read in a long time.

And one final kind of quirky thing about my 2025 reading. In a previous post I wrote about how much I liked Debby Applegate’s Madam: The Biography of Polly Adler, Icon of the Jazz Age, but had to stop reading it because it invaded too much of my head space while I was drafting my book about Jane Grant. Well, that happened again. This time I set aside The Aviator and the Showman: Amelia Earhart, George Putnam, and the Marriage that Made an American Icon, Laurie Gwen Shapiro’s latest book. It’s terrific, but Shapiro’s voice is so strong that the book is now sitting on the shelf next to Madam, where they will stay until I’m much further along with Jane. (At least I didn’t put them in the freezer, which was Joey Tribianni’s solution to troublesome books.)

To all of you who made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope you encounter loads of good books in 2026 that take you on your own joyride.