The Whispering Women by Tris MacEnulty; Prism Light Press; 386 pages; $17.99
Trish MacEnulty’s The Whispering Women is quite timely as it explores themes related to women’s rights, or lack thereof. Yet while the characters in this historical context have much to look forward to in terms of progress, it’s difficult not to see a foreboding uncertain future after the Supreme Court struck down Roe v. Wade and states continue to roll back abortion rights. While there are countless experiences related to the right to bodily autonomy, MacEnulty aptly illustrates the nuances social class and wealth impact a woman’s choices.
The first of the Delafield & Malloy Investigation series, this historical fiction mystery is set in 1913, New York City, and introduces our two heroine’s Louisa and Ellen, who exist on different ends of the class spectrum, but come together to investigate an abortion doctor. Louisa Delafield was born into the peak of upper-class society, only to fall from grace after the murder of her father, who squandered the family fortune on a bad investment. Working as a society reporter, Louisa is able to cling to her upper-class connections while scraping by a barely livable wage. In an attempt to expand her readership and prove her value to her employer, Louisa begins to write about more scandalous topics including the murder of a police matron, who died investigating a prominent doctor suspected of providing illegal abortions. Meanwhile, Ellen Malloy, an Irish immigrant working as a lady’s maid for one of the wealthiest families in town, finds her life in danger after witnessing her friend, Sylvia’s death due to an allergic reaction to anesthetic during an illegal abortion. Not only does Ellen know it was her employer who got Sylvia pregnant, she could now identify the doctor and was given a glimpse at what awaited Sylvia had she survived as she was nearly abducted into what she suspected was sex trafficking.
As each chapter alternates between each woman’s perspective, it is easy to see the ways they are constructed as each other's foil. Louisa notes that, “The fact she was no longer in the exalted upper class, and hadn’t been since she was twelve, didn’t seem to matter. Standards of ladylike behavior had been ingrained into every fiber of her being, and generations of breeding didn’t evaporate overnight.” It’s this behavior that keeps Ellen skeptical of Louisa’s intentions and allegiances as her own outlook on society is starkly more realistic and therefore better illustrates the nuanced issues that affect the lower class drastically more than the people she serves. Louisa’s insistence on maintaining the preconceived notions about the unshakable morality of her socialite acquaintances makes her character a bit exasperating as she maintains a steadfast naiveté to the harsher realities of every social circle she encounters, which feels ironically counter intuitive for someone trying to branch out into investigative journalism. When Louisa hits rock bottom at the end of the novel, she admits to herself that she “had lost her fortune and her status in society but somehow, she hadn’t lost the blindness of the upper classes, their inability to see the humanity in others.” This suggests that Louisa’s naiveté was an intentional choice MacEnulty made to illustrate Louisa’s character development, which works on the surface, but made Louisa a frustrating character as the facts of the case Ellen presented were fairly black and white. In spite of their flaws, the story does well to utilize Ellen and Louisa’s differing perspectives to provide a more encompassing view of women’s experiences in this historical context.
MacEnulty uses Ellen and Louisa to illustrate the limits of women in a domineering patriarchal society, but never allows them to be caged by it. Neither is interested in marriage for their own reasons. Ellen’s choice to immigrate to America was partly influenced by her desire to avoid marriage because she is gay. Given the social climate, she is not out, even to Louisa. Her sexuality feels like a footnote in the context of the narrative as a whole, but MacEnulty gives us enough to assume that her prospects for romance might be explored further in the rest of the series. Louisa’s choices, however, are a bit more layered. Given her financial situation a suitable marriage would provide her and her mother security, but “she’d seen what could happen when a woman’s livelihood was dependent on marriage,” referring to her mother’s fall from high society after her father’s death. Louisa enjoys her independence and is not willing to sacrifice it for a man. In the end, Louisa notes, “If women knew their power before signing it over to some husband for life, they’d never marry, she thought. Instead, they’d rule the world.” This sentiment might feel a bit overly wistful, but remained satisfying as it allows the novel to separate itself from generic women’s fiction that centers itself around the marriage of the protagonist.
Women’s rights and abortion rights are at the heart of the novel as Ellen and Louisa confront the ways women experience sexism and violence, while also offering glimmers of progress in the long fight towards equal rights. When Ellen attends the Women’s March in DC, the crowd of men around them turns aggressive and violent, and she wonders “Why was it insane to expect respect, dignity, and even equality? Then again, if you had what men had, would you ever give that up?” And when faced with the realities of the justice system, Ellen and Louisa see the unfair ways men are spared while women are criminalized in the context of abortion and prostitution. MacEnulty does well to illustrate the limits Ellen and Louisa have as women seeking justice as it’s the early feminism of this era that paves the way for women’s right to vote, but changing the laws is something we’re still fighting today.
While the abortion doctor is painted as the villain in this story, there is an extra layer of nuance because neither Ellen or Louisa are against the practice of abortion. Ellen is forced to consider her stance after learning that it’s the nurses and women who police are looking to entrap and arrest over the doctors performing the operation, and “when she thought of all those women back home with all those hungry mouths to feed, she wasn’t sure anyone should be forced to have a child they didn’t want.” What is very clear to both Ellen and Louisa is the role social class plays in a woman’s access to a safe abortion because “those who are well off always find a way around the law.” For a modern reader, the commentary only feels minimally progressive, as it generally focuses on white, upper class, heteronormative society. Yet, in light of the current political climate, access to a safe abortion is, once again, bleak. It remains true that socioeconomic class plays a significant part in a woman’s access to necessary health care, which made the topics in this book feel all too necessary to discuss, even in a limited historical context.
The Whispering Women creates a multi-layered mystery blended with social issues that keeps the readers thoroughly engaged and hungry for more, while leaving a few loose threads to be picked up in the following book, The Burning Bride. The text and characters are witty and opinionated and illustrate the ways standing against the status quo might not lead to an immediate satisfying conclusion but offer fuel down the long road towards progress.