C-
Genre: Historical: European
The story behind Mona Maclean, Medical Student is riveting. Alas, the book is not. While some Victorian novels have stood the test of time, Mona is quite clearly the product of a bygone age. As an ex-English major with an interest in history, I saw a potential paper topic on every page, but it did not make for entertaining reading.
Mona was written by Margaret Georgiana Todd and first published in 1894 under the pseudonym Graham Travers. The author was a medical student herself. It took her a long time to graduate from medical school because she wrote Mona while she was a student. She retired from medical work after practicing for five years so that she could write full-time. She lived with her long-time partner, Sophia Jex-Blake, who was also a doctor. Sophia was much older than Margaret and had been part of a generation of women who paved the way for Margaret to enter medical school. Margaret was also a friend of chemist Frederick Soddy, and she suggested he use the word “isotope” for his discovery.
Given this backstory, I was thrilled to get my hands on Mona Maclean, Medical Student, but it was a disappointment. I don’t know whether in Victorian times it would have been seen as a good book (although the magazine Punch didn’t like it) but by modern standards it’s terrible – boring, slow, and frequently offensive. It’s worth reading if you are a history buff, though, because it has so much to say about those wacky Victorian attitudes.
There are occasions in which the fact that the book is hopelessly dated also makes it delightful. Here’s a sentence to treasure:
Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Mona slung her vasculum over her shoulder, strapped a business-like spud around her waist, tucked a well-worn Hooker under her arm, and set off at a good, brisk pace.
“Vasculum” is a box used by botanists to carry plant samples, “spud” is a tool used to dig up plant samples, and although I’m not positive, I think “Hooker” refers to a plant guide by the popular (at the time) botanist Joseph Hooker. There’s also a startling moment when Mona cures a languishing woman by prescribing a course of “Arsenic and green vegetables” (it works).
You might think that the central conflict of Mona will be whether or not Mona can defeat sexism to become a doctor. Actually, most of the men she works with are supportive, as is the one love interest that knows about her medical work. Another love interest doesn’t know about her medical work but encourages her to study botany, which is one of her hobbies. Most opposition comes from the curmudgeonly father figure that she somehow ends up spending time with, who is deeply distressed at the idea of her studying dissection. The arguments between them were realistic and heartfelt and some of the best parts of the book.
It turns out that the central conflict is this: will Mona continue her medical studies even though she keeps flunking her examinations, or will she run her cousin’s shop? This would make a riveting conflict except that basically running a shop, and specifically hanging out with her working-class cousin Rachel, is presented as a fate worse than death. Mona turns out to rather enjoy running the shop and she’s very good at it, but instead of becoming less snobby towards Rachel as the story progresses, she becomes snobbier, convinced that Rachel is “vulgar”. As far as I can tell, Rachel’s greatest sin is being a terrible dresser and collecting tchotchkes.
The classism in this book is really ugly, and I think this is one of those things that simply doesn’t translate over time and space. The American culture values work and mobility. This is a very different set of values than that of British Victoriana. In this British Victorian book, Rachel’s attempts to seek upward mobility by daring to speak to her “betters” are seen as sordid and vulgar even though they are pretty subtle. Also, one of the points in Mona’s favor is that she doesn’t have to work because she has an inheritance. She chooses to run the shop, and chooses to be a doctor, because of her high ideals, not monetary need, which would presumably be “sordid”.
Some of the suspense of the plot involves who Mona will end up with – an Englishman who is visiting from India who knows that she’s a medical student, a local shopkeeper with an interest in botany who doesn’t know that she’s a medical student, or a local doctor (male) who also doesn’t know her big secret. I won’t tell you who she ends up with, but I will tell you that being married does not undercut her medical career, which, YAY.
But also it’s implied that women do in fact have to get married to find bliss, to such an extent that two people who have never shown a speck of interest in each other suddenly get paired off just to complete the set of happy people. TV Tropes calls this “Pair the Spares” and rarely have I seen such an egregious and awkward example. It’s especially irritating because there are some great conversations in the book about the advantages of being single.
In order to sell us on the idea that women can practice medicine, the author makes a big deal out of the fact that women can study medicine and remain “womanly” and not be “hardened” or corrupted. Not only is Mona pure and virginal, she doesn’t even think about sex. She looks upon men purely as co-workers or as brothers or platonic friends. All the men around her are assessing her as marriage material but she is “frank”, honest to the point of being “crystalline”, and completely uninterested in sex, although she knows how to deal with an unwed pregnant mother with compassion and common sense (give her strengthening broths and a job). I don’t know how Mona’s lack of interest in sex would have been received by Victorian audiences but from a modern perspective it’s creepy, especially because the men with an interest in her all see her as raw material that can be shaped to their ends – they will mold her into a perfect wife, however they define “perfect wife” and awaken her sexual urges.
One of the arguments in favor of female doctors is the idea that female doctors can treat women better than men – female doctors in this book are always seen treating women and only discussed as treating women. I found this fascinating because, while I know very little about the various branches of Islamic theology, I understand that some very conservative Islamic schools of thought support women being doctors so that women can be treated by other women and thus maintain segregation of the sexes. This same line of logic seems to be at work in Mona Maclean. Women are seen as more responsive to other women, and it’s seen as more appropriate for women to be treated by other women, especially for female complaints. I would have liked to see some discussion about male patients – does Mona plan to treat any? It’s implied that she does not.
I won’t tell you who Mona ends up marrying but I will tell you that this person is supportive of her career. The last scene of the book involves her husband referring a patient to her (female, of course). It’s very heartwarming but alas I saw this person as a stuffy jerk throughout the book. He worries that Mona will turn out to be as “vulgar” as her poor relations (secretly she also has upper-class relations, because that’s what makes the happy ending possible). He’s much older than she is, which makes the whole thing about how she doesn’t have sexual feelings even creepier. They finally have a romantic scene in a carriage in which she’s cold and he puts an arm around her – something which they both process exactly as modern people would think about a night of sex (“Why hasn’t he called? Doesn’t he know me well enough to know that I don’t do casual hook-ups?”). The guy sees this interaction as equivalent to a proposal, which even in the Victorian seems a stretch. I realizes that was a different age but one was actually expected to propose, not just touch someone, realize their sexual feelings had finally woken, and set a date.
So – as a romance, Mona is simply terrible. As a novel, Mona is sometimes fun but mostly dull and often offensive. As a piece of history, it’s quite interesting. You can get it for free online from American Libraries or Google Books, as well as other ebook vendors, as this book is in the public domain. Or you can order a print on demand copy from Amazon. But I wouldn’t recommend it unless you are REALLY into Victorian history, in which case, go for it.
This book is available from:
As an Amazon Associate we earn from qualifying purchases.
We also may use affiliate links in our posts, as well. Thanks!
Thanks for the review. I have been reading novels about women physicians since the 60s when the plot generally involved having to consider giving up one’s career or not being able to marry. As I recall, there were a number of Harlequins to that effect. Often where the young woman shows up and finds a man was expected (using your initials on the job application helps with that). I am almost sure to jump on this book for the historical interest. That said, I find it interesting that so many of the males in the book are supportive of her career. That was still not the case, at least in my experience, even in the 1970s when I went to medical school.
I love Victorian literature, and one of the characteristics I find most fascinating is the mixture of cultural attitudes that are both attractive (men supporting women doctors – YAY!) and repulsive (women have no sexual appetites until awakened by their husband, and then only as duty – BOO!). I know my vision is skewed by the 100+ years that lie between us, but I still find the literature worth reading. Anthony Trollope is my favorite Victorian writer with George Eliot a very close second.
@Vicki – if you haven’t read it, you absolutely must read “Bowery to Bellevue: the Story of New York’s First Woman Ambulance Surgeon” by Emily Dunning Barringer. It’s not a novel but rather a memoir about Dr. Dunning’s residency at Bellevue, New York’s largest public hospital around the beginning of the twentieth century. Her description of the males she worked with can be summed up as “very mixed reactions.” Her fiance (who she met as a fellow medical student) was totally supportive, as were a number of senior physicians who were her professors and took her under their wing. (The book isn’t a romance, but the description of her fiance and their meet cute is one of the sweetest scenes in the book, as is her reminiscing about how he had wonderful sensitive surgeon’s hands.) Some of her fellow residents were indifferent. Some were actively hostile and undermining. Most of the book is actually about being a surgeon though, and specifically about breaking down the perception that women could be excellent doctors, but should probably not be SURGEONS – and treat rough male working class patients.
This is completely fascinating – thanks.