Genre Fiction
![Marie Benedict - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B01EX8MYO4.jpg)
The First Ladies
A novel about the extraordinary partnership between First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and civil rights activist Mary McLeod Bethune-an unlikely friendship that changed the world, from the New York Times bestselling authors of the Good Morning America Book Club pick The Personal Librarian.
The daughter of formerly enslaved parents, Mary McLeod Bethune refuses to back down as white supremacists attempt to thwart her work. She marches on as an activist and an educator, and as her reputation grows she becomes a celebrity, revered by titans of business and recognized by U.S. Presidents. Eleanor Roosevelt herself is awestruck and eager to make her acquaintance. Initially drawn together because of their shared belief in women's rights and the power of education, Mary and Eleanor become fast friends confiding their secrets, hopes and dreams-and holding each other's hands through tragedy and triumph.
When Franklin Delano Roosevelt is elected president, the two women begin to collaborate more closely, particularly as Eleanor moves toward her own agenda separate from FDR, a consequence of the devastating discovery of her husband's secret love affair. Eleanor becomes a controversial First Lady for her outspokenness, particularly on civil rights. And when she receives threats because of her strong ties to Mary, it only fuels the women's desire to fight together for justice and equality.
This is the story of two different, yet equally formidable, passionate, and committed women, and the way in which their singular friendship helped form the foundation for the modern civil rights movement.
The daughter of formerly enslaved parents, Mary McLeod Bethune refuses to back down as white supremacists attempt to thwart her work. She marches on as an activist and an educator, and as her reputation grows she becomes a celebrity, revered by titans of business and recognized by U.S. Presidents. Eleanor Roosevelt herself is awestruck and eager to make her acquaintance. Initially drawn together because of their shared belief in women's rights and the power of education, Mary and Eleanor become fast friends confiding their secrets, hopes and dreams-and holding each other's hands through tragedy and triumph.
When Franklin Delano Roosevelt is elected president, the two women begin to collaborate more closely, particularly as Eleanor moves toward her own agenda separate from FDR, a consequence of the devastating discovery of her husband's secret love affair. Eleanor becomes a controversial First Lady for her outspokenness, particularly on civil rights. And when she receives threats because of her strong ties to Mary, it only fuels the women's desire to fight together for justice and equality.
This is the story of two different, yet equally formidable, passionate, and committed women, and the way in which their singular friendship helped form the foundation for the modern civil rights movement.
Editorial Reviews
"This book will expand your perspective and keep you reading late into the night."
-Dolen Perkins-Valdez, New York Times bestselling author of Take My Hand
"It's an utter joy to watch civil rights activist Mary McLeod Bethune and First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt forge a partnership that changed America: plotting over teacups, negotiating tricky conversations about race and privilege, celebrating their triumphs, and never giving up. The First Ladies is a wonder!"
-Kate Quinn, New York Times bestselling author of The Diamond Eye
"This timely story encapsulates the unmovable power of when two strong minds come together in the name of justice and equality. "
-Sadeqa Johnson, New York Times bestselling author of The House of Eve
"Explores the extraordinary legacies of these two historical figures, while also bringing us into their personal lives and their deep friendship. Benedict and Murray bring their knack for historical fiction to a story of the women's unlikely alliance and the ways their bond and efforts forged the beginnings of the modern civil rights movement."
-Entertainment Weekly
"A powerful and unforgettable story of female strength and the triumph of the human spirit."
-Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author of Code Name Sapphire
"I've never read a more inspiring story about women raising up other women and working together to try to change the world. A tour de force."
-Natasha Lester, New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Orphan
"Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray herald the beauty and passion of a celebrated friendship across color lines and the complications of history."
-Vanessa Riley, award-winning author of
-Dolen Perkins-Valdez, New York Times bestselling author of Take My Hand
"It's an utter joy to watch civil rights activist Mary McLeod Bethune and First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt forge a partnership that changed America: plotting over teacups, negotiating tricky conversations about race and privilege, celebrating their triumphs, and never giving up. The First Ladies is a wonder!"
-Kate Quinn, New York Times bestselling author of The Diamond Eye
"This timely story encapsulates the unmovable power of when two strong minds come together in the name of justice and equality. "
-Sadeqa Johnson, New York Times bestselling author of The House of Eve
"Explores the extraordinary legacies of these two historical figures, while also bringing us into their personal lives and their deep friendship. Benedict and Murray bring their knack for historical fiction to a story of the women's unlikely alliance and the ways their bond and efforts forged the beginnings of the modern civil rights movement."
-Entertainment Weekly
"A powerful and unforgettable story of female strength and the triumph of the human spirit."
-Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author of Code Name Sapphire
"I've never read a more inspiring story about women raising up other women and working together to try to change the world. A tour de force."
-Natasha Lester, New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Orphan
"Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray herald the beauty and passion of a celebrated friendship across color lines and the complications of history."
-Vanessa Riley, award-winning author of
Readers Top Reviews
Lizanne Johnson kw
This fictionalized rendering of the friendship between Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune Is a deep dive into the era. I knew quite a lot about both women but never knew of their close relationship. This book left me in wonder at all they accomplished in spite of the barriers consistently in their way. The Civil Rights Movement has much to thank these women for. Their friendship is an exemplar of what two women can do to change their world.
Literati
Though not as briskly paced as their first joint effort, The Personal Librarian, this book nevertheless provides a great deal of important history surrounding the earlier part of the 20th century in America. Specifically in regards to movement towards Civil Rights. Many facts were presented that readers may not be familiar with, such as the issue of Southern Democrats and their ties to the KKK. The focus remains on the two outspoken women in the story, Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune, and the work these two did together as well as their close friendship.
BOOKLOVER EB
In "The First Ladies," Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray explore the bond between FDR'S wife, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Mary McLeod Bethune, the famed Black educator, civil rights advocate, writer, and businesswoman. Roosevelt and Bethune had a long and fruitful friendship that spanned decades. Benedict and Murray state that, although they thoroughly researched their subjects, they changed some facts and dates, and invented much of the dialogue. However, what the authors do, with considerable success, is show how, from 1927 through the 1940s, Mrs. Roosevelt and Mrs. Bethune grew to like, respect, and learn from one another. They devised strategies to promote the causes that were dear to their hearts and worked together tirelessly to achieve their goals. In alternating chapters, Eleanor and Mary offer their perspectives concerning the significant events in their personal and professional lives. Eleanor was, at first, an insecure person whose mother bullied her, and whose husband, Franklin, cheated on her. Nevertheless, she refused to be marginalized, and decided that her mission in life was to use her position to speak out on behalf of those whose voices were silenced, thanks to society's prejudice and indifference. Mary McLeod Bethune raised funds to establish her own college, and spearheaded programs to create jobs and improve social services for Black people. Although Franklin Roosevelt did not always accede to Eleanor and Mary's entreaties—especially since he had to contend with bigoted Southern Democrats who held considerable power—he did what he believed was prudent, considering the political climate at the time. Some of the verbal exchanges between Eleanor and Mary are stilted and heavy-handed. However, as the story progresses, we get a sense of the genuine regard and trust that developed between these female activists. Their collaboration takes place against the backdrop of the Great Depression; FDR's ascension to the presidency; the rise of Hitler; the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor; and a toxic climate in America, where too many Black people lacked the opportunity to get a good education, earn enough money to live comfortably, or serve their country as full-fledged members of the military. With humor, warmth, and poignancy, "The First Ladies" captures the essence of Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune. They were brilliant, courageous, and compassionate pioneers who joined forces to advocate for racial equality.
L:inda M. WilliamsDr
I look forward to readiing this book. I am sure it will be everything promised. Super fast delivery!
Short Excerpt Teaser
CHAPTER 1
Mary
New York, New York
October 14, 1927
Nearly fifty blocks whir past my cab window as I ride through the upper reaches of Manhattan from the Hotel Olga in Harlem. Traveling toward the Upper East Side, I feel as though, somewhere, I've crossed an invisible line. The shades of complexions fade from colored to white. Not that it matters to me. I have never been hindered by the views and prejudices of others, not even the Ku Klux Klan.
My cab stops in front of a limestone town house amidst the expanse of brick facades on East 65th Street. I exit the cab, then pause before I mount the few steps to the front door. The number 47 is on the left of the wrought iron gate, while 49 is on the opposite side. Yet there is only a single entrance.
Odd, I think, and a bit confusing to have one door for two residences. I certainly hope Mrs. Roosevelt gets along with her neighbor.
The door is opened by a young woman wearing a white-collared black uniform. For a moment, she stands still, her eyebrows raised and her blue eyes wide with astonishment.
"I am Mrs. Mary McLeod Bethune, here for the luncheon," I say.
She recovers. "Yes, ma'am." As she gestures for me to enter, her face becomes, once again, the expressionless servant's mask.
Chatter and laughter float in from down the hall. "Ma'am?" she asks, reaching for my coat.
I shrug out of my black fur-collar wrap and pat my hat to make sure it hasn't tilted. The young lady leads me down a hallway darkened by mahogany panels. As we approach the sound of voices, I listen to the medley of tones, searching for the accents and intonations that will give me clues to who these women are and where they're from.
When I step into the drawing room, the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet burgundy drapes framing the large windows, the deep chintz sofas, and a crackling fire offer a warmer welcome than the women inside. Unfazed, I move to the walls covered with bookcases. Glorious leather-bound volumes line the shelves. How much my curious students at Bethune-Cookman College would enjoy and appreciate a library like this.
If I didn't know this was a luncheon for women leaders of national clubs and organizations-some of the most powerful women in America-I'd think I'd stepped into a fashion show. Each woman wears a different variation of the latest styles; there are skirts and sweater sets and drop-waist dresses, and all, of course, are wearing silk stockings. Quite the contrast with my ankle-length navy dress trimmed in velvet.
I peruse the bookshelves, noticing that the conversation dips to a whisper whenever I skirt close to a group. As I draw near women I recognize from my position as president of the National Association of Colored Women's Clubs, I smile and nod, but I only occasionally receive a nod in return. Most often, my acknowledgments are met with steel-cold glances. Funny how the same women who talk with me about the advancement of women in a formal meeting space open to whites and Negroes pretend not to even see me in this social setting. Instead of allowing this to smart, I read the titles as I survey the books: a biography here, a novel there, a historical study in between.
"Ah, Dr. Bethune. What a pleasure."
My smile widens as the officious-looking Mrs. Sara Delano Roosevelt approaches, surprisingly light on her feet for her seventy-something years. "It is good to see you again, Mrs. Roosevelt."
"You as well, Dr. Bethune."
I hesitate, then say, "I hope you'll pardon me for clarifying." I pause, and Mrs. Roosevelt's expression hardens; she's not used to correction. "I prefer to be called Mrs. Bethune. Although I am grateful for the recognition, my doctorate degree is an honorary one. I prefer that honorific be reserved for the men and women who worked hard to earn their doctorates."
"As you wish." Mrs. Roosevelt's voice softens at the benign nature of my clarification. "Please tell me-I understand you've just returned from Europe. How was your trip?"
"It was the most glorious eight weeks."
"Isn't Europe amazing? So full of history." Leaning closer, she whispers, "Did I hear you had an audience with the pope?" The astonishment in her tone matches the amazement I felt standing before Pope Pius XI and receiving his blessing. As we talk about the Vatican, I wonder how news of my travels spread so fast and so wide.
But of course I say nothing about that, and when Mrs. Roosevelt asks the purpose of my trip, I tell her I traveled to Europe with Dr. Wilberforce Williams, the noted public health care expert and writer. "He's a friend from Chicago who's been to Europe several times, and when he arranged a travel group, I knew it was time for me ...
Mary
New York, New York
October 14, 1927
Nearly fifty blocks whir past my cab window as I ride through the upper reaches of Manhattan from the Hotel Olga in Harlem. Traveling toward the Upper East Side, I feel as though, somewhere, I've crossed an invisible line. The shades of complexions fade from colored to white. Not that it matters to me. I have never been hindered by the views and prejudices of others, not even the Ku Klux Klan.
My cab stops in front of a limestone town house amidst the expanse of brick facades on East 65th Street. I exit the cab, then pause before I mount the few steps to the front door. The number 47 is on the left of the wrought iron gate, while 49 is on the opposite side. Yet there is only a single entrance.
Odd, I think, and a bit confusing to have one door for two residences. I certainly hope Mrs. Roosevelt gets along with her neighbor.
The door is opened by a young woman wearing a white-collared black uniform. For a moment, she stands still, her eyebrows raised and her blue eyes wide with astonishment.
"I am Mrs. Mary McLeod Bethune, here for the luncheon," I say.
She recovers. "Yes, ma'am." As she gestures for me to enter, her face becomes, once again, the expressionless servant's mask.
Chatter and laughter float in from down the hall. "Ma'am?" she asks, reaching for my coat.
I shrug out of my black fur-collar wrap and pat my hat to make sure it hasn't tilted. The young lady leads me down a hallway darkened by mahogany panels. As we approach the sound of voices, I listen to the medley of tones, searching for the accents and intonations that will give me clues to who these women are and where they're from.
When I step into the drawing room, the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet burgundy drapes framing the large windows, the deep chintz sofas, and a crackling fire offer a warmer welcome than the women inside. Unfazed, I move to the walls covered with bookcases. Glorious leather-bound volumes line the shelves. How much my curious students at Bethune-Cookman College would enjoy and appreciate a library like this.
If I didn't know this was a luncheon for women leaders of national clubs and organizations-some of the most powerful women in America-I'd think I'd stepped into a fashion show. Each woman wears a different variation of the latest styles; there are skirts and sweater sets and drop-waist dresses, and all, of course, are wearing silk stockings. Quite the contrast with my ankle-length navy dress trimmed in velvet.
I peruse the bookshelves, noticing that the conversation dips to a whisper whenever I skirt close to a group. As I draw near women I recognize from my position as president of the National Association of Colored Women's Clubs, I smile and nod, but I only occasionally receive a nod in return. Most often, my acknowledgments are met with steel-cold glances. Funny how the same women who talk with me about the advancement of women in a formal meeting space open to whites and Negroes pretend not to even see me in this social setting. Instead of allowing this to smart, I read the titles as I survey the books: a biography here, a novel there, a historical study in between.
"Ah, Dr. Bethune. What a pleasure."
My smile widens as the officious-looking Mrs. Sara Delano Roosevelt approaches, surprisingly light on her feet for her seventy-something years. "It is good to see you again, Mrs. Roosevelt."
"You as well, Dr. Bethune."
I hesitate, then say, "I hope you'll pardon me for clarifying." I pause, and Mrs. Roosevelt's expression hardens; she's not used to correction. "I prefer to be called Mrs. Bethune. Although I am grateful for the recognition, my doctorate degree is an honorary one. I prefer that honorific be reserved for the men and women who worked hard to earn their doctorates."
"As you wish." Mrs. Roosevelt's voice softens at the benign nature of my clarification. "Please tell me-I understand you've just returned from Europe. How was your trip?"
"It was the most glorious eight weeks."
"Isn't Europe amazing? So full of history." Leaning closer, she whispers, "Did I hear you had an audience with the pope?" The astonishment in her tone matches the amazement I felt standing before Pope Pius XI and receiving his blessing. As we talk about the Vatican, I wonder how news of my travels spread so fast and so wide.
But of course I say nothing about that, and when Mrs. Roosevelt asks the purpose of my trip, I tell her I traveled to Europe with Dr. Wilberforce Williams, the noted public health care expert and writer. "He's a friend from Chicago who's been to Europe several times, and when he arranged a travel group, I knew it was time for me ...
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