Brigid "Bridie" Gallagher has experienced nothing but hardship in her eleven years.  The potato famine in Ireland killed her father and brothers, then her mother died in America, leaving Bridie orphaned, alone, and locked in a debtors' prison.  When she's freed, it's only to become a servant for an abusive family.  Fed up with being mistreated, Bridie flees.  In Seneca Falls, New York, she meets Rose Wilson, a Black girl her own age.  Rose finds her new friend a position in the household of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, a well-known abolitionist and feminist.  Bridie has never met a stranger woman than her new employer.  The more time she spends with her, however, the more Bridie learns about Stanton's advocacy for women's rights.  However revolutionary her ideas might be, both Bridie and Rose become supporters of the cause.  Like Stanton, they want their voices to be heard, even if not everyone is willing to hear them.  Change doesn't come without a fight and the two girls are ready for battle!  Aren't they?

With the recent 100th anniversary of the passing of the 19th Amendment of the United States' Constitution, Starting from Seneca Falls by Karen Schwabach is a timely novel aimed at helping young readers learn about the struggle that finally resulted in women being granted the right to vote.  While this might not seem like a terribly exciting topic for a middle-grade book, it's still an important one.  Not only does Schwabach bring 19th Century America to life with vivid period detail but she also introduces readers to important historical figures like Stanton, Frederick Douglass, and Lucretia Mott.  Although Bridie and Rose are fictional, they're sympathetic and likable, making them easy heroines to root for.  Starting From Seneca Falls addresses a lot of issues—maybe too many—which makes the story feel a bit unfocused.  Without a concrete story goal, Bridie's tale is especially loosey-goosey.  Still, I enjoyed this novel overall.  It discusses important topics in a story that moved along swiftly enough to keep my attention.

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  You?)

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Deborah Borenstein heads to Danforth University, eager to shake off her Cleveland roots and change the world.  The 18-year-old hopes to share a dorm room with a chic New Yorker, someone who can help her transform into the smart, successful woman she longs to become.  Liddie Golmboch, a scholarship student from a Wisconsin farming family, cannot be more different than the ideal roommate for whom Deborah has been praying.  And yet, she becomes a fast and faithful friend.  Liddie's naiveté makes her appealing, especially to William Harrison Quincy III, a wealthy frat boy.  When Deborah walks in on him raping her best friend, she's livid.  A traumatized Liddie can barely speak, barely function.  Outraged, Deborah vows to make sure Quincy pays for what he's done.

Thirty years later, Deborah still has nightmares about what happened to Liddie.  So affected has she been by the assault on her college roommate that she's spent decades fighting for women's rights as the director of a highly-respected activist group.  Maybe she couldn't bring Liddie's rapist to justice, but she's helped plenty of other victims.  Still, when she hears Quincy is seeking a seat in the U.S. Senate, she balks.  Deborah has first-hand knowledge of his true character, information that could destroy his political ambitions.  But, exposing him would put a still fragile Liddie in the spotlight and Deborah just can't do that to her friend.  Can she?  As the pressure builds, Deborah must make a terrible choice—reveal a rapist or betray her best friend.  Both choices may come with dire consequences, requiring the sacrifice of everything—and everyone—Deborah holds dear.  How far will she go to get justice?  At what cost?

Again and Again, a debut novel by Ellen Bravo, offers a compelling premise.  Not terribly original, but thought-provoking nonetheless.  Handled well, it could have led to a tense and affecting political thriller.  It didn't.  Bravo, a lifelong activist, is obviously passionate about her subject.  Unfortunately, this zeal makes Again and Again feel less like a novel and more like an angry feminist rant.  Deborah, who starts out as an abrasive, foul-mouthed college student doesn't get much warmer as an adult.  As a character, she never felt real to me, which made it difficult to connect with her.  I did admire the way she changed over thirty years, but other than that, she just seemed cold and flat.  The rest of Bravo's story people feel like flimsy clichés—especially the men who are, almost to a one, despicable.  While I agree with a lot of the views Bravo expresses through this novel, I would have preferred a more subtle approach.  Novels can teach powerful messages through empathetic characters, evocative prose, and impacting dialogue.  Again and Again doesn't have that richness.  If I hadn't committed to reviewing the book, I wouldn't have moved past the first chapter. 

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for very strong language, violence, sexual content, and references to underage drinking, illegal drug use, and sexual assault

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Again and Again from the generous folks at She Writes Press via those at TLC Book Tours.  Thank you!