An experienced teacher of reading and writing and an award-winning historian, E. Jennifer Monaghan brings to vibrant life the process of learning to read and write in colonial America. Ranging throughout the colonies from New Hampshire to Georgia, she examines the instruction of girls and boys, Native Americans and enslaved Africans, the privileged and the poor, revealing the sometimes wrenching impact of literacy acquisition on the lives of learners. 

For the most part, religious motives underlay reading instruction in colonial America, while secular motives led to writing instruction. Monaghan illuminates the history of these activities through a series of deeply researched and readable case studies. An Anglican missionary battles mosquitoes and loneliness to teach the New York Mohawks to write in their own tongue. Puritan fathers model scriptural reading for their children as they struggle with bereavement. Boys in writing schools, preparing for careers in counting houses, wield their quill pens in the difficult task of mastering a “good hand.” Benjamin Franklin learns how to compose essays with no teacher but himself. Young orphans in Georgia write precocious letters to their benefactor, George Whitefield, while schools in South Carolina teach enslaved black children to read but never to write.

As she tells these stories, Monaghan clears new pathways in the analysis of colonial literacy. She pioneers in exploring the implications of the separation of reading and writing instruction, a topic that still resonates in today's classrooms.

Monaghan argues that major improvements occurred in literacy instruction and acquisition after about 1750, visible in rising rates of signature literacy. Spelling books were widely adopted as they key text for teaching young children to read; prosperity, commercialism, and a parental urge for gentility aided writing instruction, benefiting girls in particular. And a gentler vision of childhood arose, portraying children as more malleable than sinful. It promoted and even commercialized a new kind of children's book designed to amuse instead of convert, laying the groundwork for the “reading revolution” of the new republic.

Ste. Genevieve (designated a National Historic Park in 2020) was the first permanent European settlement established on the west side of the Mississippi in Upper Louisiana, antedating St. Louis by more than a decade, and Louis Bolduc was its best-known citizen. Bolduc arrived in the Old Town of Ste. Genevieve ca. 1761, as the French and Indian War was winding down. With a focus on Bolduc and his family, readers are given a window into the workings of a rapidly evolving village during the colonial era. The depiction of Bolduc is not strictly biographical as a single historical figure but rather is set within the context of his two successive wives, his children, his neighbors, his enslaved people, and his built environment, including his famous French vertical log house. The book provides the foundation for narratives on non-British colonies, Native American interactions with colonists, and the situation of Native American and African American slavery, all within the context of Missouri before it became a state.
 

In May 1725, during a three-year conflict between English colonists and the Eastern Abenaki Nation, a thirty-four-man expedition led by Captain John Lovewell set out to ambush their adversaries, acquire some scalp bounties, and hasten the end of the war. Instead, the Abenakis staged a surprise attack of their own at Pigwacket, Maine, that left more than a third of the New Englanders dead or severely wounded. Although Lovewell himself was slain in the fighting, he emerged a martyred hero, celebrated in popular memory for standing his ground against a superior enemy force. 

In this book, Robert E. Cray revisits the clash known as “Lovewell's Fight” and uses it to illuminate the themes of war, death, and memory in early New England. He shows how a military operation plagued from the outset by poor decision-making, and further marred by less-than-heroic battlefield behavior, came to be remembered as early America's version of the Alamo. The government of Massachusetts bestowed payouts, pensions, and land on survivors and widows of the battle, while early chroniclers drafted a master narrative for later generations to emboss. William Henry Longfellow, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Henry David Thoreau kept the story alive for later generations. Although some nineteenth-century New Englanders disapproved of Lovewell's notoriety as a scalp hunter, it did not prevent the dedication of a monument in his honor at the Fryeburg, Maine, battlesite in 1904.

Even as the actual story of “Lovewell's Fight” receded into obscurity—a bloody skirmish in a largely forgotten war—it remained part of New England lore, one of those rare military encounters in which defeat transcends an opponent's victory to assume the mantle of legend.

Lydia Darragh is famed for eavesdropping on British General William Howe’s staff as they planned a surprise attack, then sneaking through the lines to give warning to American soldiers. Her actions are said to have saved George Washington’s army from a devastating ambush as it lay starving and freezing on the barren hills of Whitemarsh at the end of 1777. But did the secret she brought to the Patriots really prevent their defeat? Why would a professed pacifist choose to risk her life by intervening in military affairs? Who was the mysterious intelligence officer she met between the lines? Was her story even true?
Lydia’s Tale:The Mystery of Lydia Darragh, Irish Quaker, Patriot Spy by Robert N. Fanelli uncovers a myriad of previously unknown records, knitting together for the first time the life and experiences of this remarkable heroine of the American Revolution who lived in the heart of Philadelphia. Behind her story we find an assertive woman who took an active hand in the affairs of her family and her community. Drawing on genealogical sources, legal documents, and other correspondence, the author reconstructs Lydia Darragh’s early life in Dublin, her livelihood in Pennsylvania, and how the Revolution shaped her and her children’s lives. Exploring the context of Lydia’s tale sheds light on the activities of women in Revolutionary Philadelphia, reveals the complex issues faced by pacifist Quakers in a time of war, and brings to light the contributions of Irish immigrants in securing America’s freedom.
The author’s careful research reveals little known details and corrects historians’ common misapprehensions about the Revolutionary period. Along the way, we meet often overlooked figures, including diarist Christopher Marshall and his family, the irascible Quaker recluse Bathsheba Bowers, and Blair McClenachan, the wealthy Patriot financier who also served his adopted country as a common soldier. Lydia Darragh is frequently included among that small group of women cited as Revolutionary heroines. This detailed microhistory demonstrates how legend can inform the study of history, describing how one woman’s personal reminiscence morphed into a piece of American mythology, now recovered in the historical context it deserves.