Book Review: "Becoming Madam Secretary" and the Power of Politics
In her new novel, historical novelist once again paints a poignant and stirring portrait of one of the great, and underappreciated, political women of the 20th century.
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I’ve been a fan of the historical fiction of Stephanie Dray for years now, ever since she cast a spell on me with her fantastic trilogy about Cleopatra Selene, the daughter of Cleopatra VII. Since then I’ve gobbled up every piece of historical fiction she’s published, and that includes her newest book, Becoming Madam Secretary, a fantastic and deftly-told story of the early life and career of Frances Perkins, arguably one of the most important (but least-known) women of the 20th century.
If you don’t know the name Frances Perkins, you’re not alone. Like far too many other important women in the history of American politics, her name has been largely forgotten except by historians. I’ll freely admit that while I’d heard her name and knew of her importance as the first female Secretary of Labor (and first female cabinet member, for that matter), I didn’t realize just how vital she was to the crafting of the New Deal, particularly social security. Moreover, I also didn’t realize that she’d had a long career in labor organizing and legislation in New York before FDR tapped her to be a part of his administration.
When the book begins, however, Frances is very far from the center of power, but it’s clear that even as a young woman and activist she is devoutly committed to improving the lot of American workers. Frances is also the type of person who isn’t afraid to break a few rules when she thinks it’s in pursuit of the greater good. Even so, it’s the horrifying Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire which proves to be particularly life-changing, and the images from that dreadful day stay with her for the rest of her life, reminding her of the importance of her mission and the justness of her cause.
One fine day, however, she crosses paths with the New York politician who will come to have a profound impact not just on her life but on the entire country: Franklin Delano Roosevelt. At first she sees him as nothing more than a lightweight, someone who is willing to say whatever it takes to get ahead–hence his amusingly dismissive nickname of “Feather Duster”--but as the years go by she comes to see a different side of him. Indeed, the two forge an extraordinary working relationship, and Dray adroitly captures the complicated but productive nature of their bond, with Frances often serving as the president’s conscience and his moral support in times when his commitment to social and economic justice wavers.
Because the book is told exclusively from Frances’ point of view, we get a front-row seat to some of the great successes of her life, and there’s no question that this was a woman who had a social conscience and was determined to protect the most vulnerable in American society. Fortunately she’s a quick learner and, though she doesn’t always like the way that politics works, she’s wise enough to realize that sometimes it really is better to end up with half a loaf than with nothing. She learns this time and again throughout her career, first as an influential person in New York and then later as part of Roosevelt’s cabinet.
For all of her success, however, Frances has a troubled private life, and things take a turn for the tragic when her husband Paul is diagnosed as being bipolar, and it isn’t long before her young daughter is also showing signs of having similar issues. Dray captures Frances’ sense of anguish as she watches first her husband and then her daughter suffer under the scourge of mental illness. It’s really quite wrenching to watch her contend with these issues, particularly given the fact that mental health treatment wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as it is today. Nevertheless she manages to persevere, and it’s clear that she still loves them and will move heaven and earth to make sure they are as safe as she can make them.
There’s no question that FDR was one of the most consequential presidents of the 20th century, and his New Deal reshaped American life so profoundly that it’s almost impossible to really appreciate how precarious life was for the poor before his programs went into effect. Through Frances’ eyes, however, we see just how grinding and incremental progress can be, particularly when it is repeatedly blocked by those who have an interest in maintaining the status quo. As Dray demonstrates, however, Frances Perkins wasn’t someone who was ever going to just lie down and take what others were going to give. Instead, she was going to drag America into the 20th century.
Becoming Madam Secretary, like all good historical fiction, is not only about the life of an important person in the past; it is also a salutary reminder of the importance of politics and of political engagement in the present. There are many times in the course of the novel where it would be easy for Frances to just give up on her ambitions, turn her attention to her private life, and go on about her business. Indeed, she comes very close to doing that on a number of occasions, particularly when she is faced with personal turmoil. Each time, however, she goes charging back into the political fray, repeatedly illustrating Roosevelt’s wisdom in choosing her to be part of his administration. Indeed, it’s probably not going too far to say that at least a part of his greatness as a president stemmed from his ability to take on as advisers those who were the best at their jobs (in fact, Perkins was only one of two cabinet secretaries who would stay with him during all four terms).
Overall, I loved Becoming Madam Secretary. Dray is one of those writers who has the power to immerse you right in the midst of the chaos of the past, Certainly, as she acknowledges in her author’s note, she had to simplify the many convolutions involved with legislation, but I still emerged from this book feeling as if I had a richer, deeper, fuller understanding of this extraordinary woman. And that, I think, makes for the best sort of historical fiction.