The Queen of the Platform

Historical fiction is one of my passions, whether it’s presented as a period drama on the big or small screen, the stage, or in book form. That’s why I looked forward to reading The Queen of the Platform, a fictional account of the life of suffragist and abolitionist Ernestine Rose.

Written in the first person, solely from the titular character’s point of view, this work gave me full access to Rose, her thoughts, her feelings, her flaws. Early on, I thought it might be stifling to only be inside of Rose’s head, to not be privy to the points of view of some of the other individuals who populated Rose’s life and appeared in the book.

But as I read on, I appreciated the intimacy I had with Rose and her experiences. Author Susan Higginbotham gave voice to this largely forgotten champion of human rights, instilled in her a sense of humor, and used Rose’s outgoing ways and social activism to the benefit of the storytelling. One of the cautions often stated when writing a novel from a first-person point of view is to not allow the character to be alone for an extended period of time because pages of interior monologue would not keep a reader interested. But Rose’s zest for life and social activism meant that she was rarely alone on the page and interacted with a host of people who helped shape her into a three-dimensional person, including her first and second husbands and activists Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Frederick Douglass.

The Queen of the Platform is a story within a story. The author uses this device deftly in the prologue. It is 1892. Rose is in her 80s, at the end of her life and frail. One of the highlights of her day is being pushed around in a Bath chair—a forerunner of a wheelchair—by an aide. She decides that while awaiting death she will write her life’s story. She opens her “memoir” in 1813 when she is a child growing up in Poland. Her father was a rabbi.

It is a marvel that in the face of antisemitism, sexism, xenophobia, strong pro-slavery sentiments, and limited English knowledge, the adult Rose was able to move to England and become an impressive speaker at lecture halls both in England where she lived for many years and in the United States. Needless to say, some of her lectures were not received warmly. In at least one lecture in the United States that she gave urging the abolition of slavery, she had to be rushed off the stage to safety by one of her hosts.

I did feel that in some sections the dialogue could have been fleshed out more with descriptions of body language, emotions, and interior dialogue. Instead of presenting stilted, rapid-fire, back-and-forth dialogue that made Rose seem insensitive, this could have been an opportunity for Higginbotham to add depth to the character.

In reading this novel I can’t help but draw parallels to today’s society and political climate. Rose and her second husband became naturalized citizens and settled in New York City. However, she was viewed as an outsider because she was not born in the United States and because she was Jewish. She and her husband faced discrimination on both fronts—as do many Jewish people and current immigrants to the U.S. The hissing, foot-stomping, and other types of disruption that took place during Rose’s lectures now take the form of hitting the glass ceiling when women try to move up in the work world, or intolerant and hateful language we see on social media posts. The vociferous behavior and hatred on display during her anti-slavery speeches can be seen these days in racial threats and attacks.

The Queen of the Platform is an engaging book, transporting the reader into the life of a woman who faced her share of hardships yet would not let society’s strictures stop her from speaking against the injustices she saw around her.