Source: ARC from publisher
This is my honest review.
Rating: 5 Stars ~ Excellent
A brilliant read on a fascinating
woman!
I’m
not going to lie. I’m sort of a Hamilton fan. Having previously read Ron
Chernow’s compelling biography, Alexander
Hamilton, I already knew Hamilton’s wife, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, was an intriguing
and resilient woman. Also, having read America’s
First Daughter by historical fiction novelists Stephanie Dray and Laura
Kamoie, I knew this dynamic writing duo wouldn’t do anything less than exceptional
in telling Eliza’s story; therefore, I highly anticipated My Dear Hamilton. Dray and Kamoie far exceeded my expectations. I
absolutely devoured My Dear Hamilton
from beginning to end!
There’s
no doubt that Eliza Schuyler Hamilton lived through an exciting time in American
history. She was right in the center in witnessing the birth of a new nation.
She’s mostly known as the wife of Alexander Hamilton, one of the Founding
Fathers of the United States; however, there’s so much more to this woman with
a compelling life story. I very much appreciated that her life before marriage
is portrayed in My Dear Hamilton. We
get to know the endearing relationships she had with her family, especially her
father and sisters Angelica and Peggy. It’s with these strong familial bonds
that she would deeply rely on later in life.
At
its heart, My Dear Hamilton is very
much a love story filled with betrayal, sacrifice, loyalty and forgiveness. Yes,
she was indeed a devoted wife and mother, but she was also characterized in
this book as a woman possessing admirable inner strength. Through their
intensive research, the authors expertly shape, not only Eliza’s journey
through life, but her emotional well being as well. Readers will celebrate with
Eliza through her happiest of times, feel utter heartbreak as she endures public
humiliation, and be encouraged by her sheer determination and accomplishments.
Eliza
outlived her husband by 50 years. In her 97 years, it’s fair to say that Eliza
Hamilton had loved and lost so much. Her emotions are so thoughtfully detailed
with the passing of the most important people in her life. I was very curious about
her life after her husband’s infamous duel. There’s a scene towards the end of
the book, and this is not a spoiler, where she literally lays everything out in
front of her to try to make sense of what she’s learned. I found this moment to
be poignant, sorrowful, and something totally relatable as humans. I’d like to
think that scene was how it really played out years ago, but it was surely
memorable the way the authors depicted how she may have dealt with that part of
her life.
If
Eliza Schuyler Hamilton were alive today, I think she would applaud how
Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie interpreted her life though My Dear Hamilton. Another brilliant and
fascinating read from these talented authors!
My review of America's First Daughter is HERE.
~*~ My Dear Hamilton ~*~
I fell in love with my son that
spring. In truth, I fell in love with the entire world. Because with the war
nearly over, everything seemed new. And in my baby’s eyes, everything seemed
possible.
Philip was as sunny a child as ever
lived. One who so commanded my heart that I could refuse him nothing. And I
knew my indulgence was not to be remedied by the influence of a stern father.
Because in those delightfully domestic months, one might be excused for
thinking that—like Ben Franklin and the lightning rod—my husband had invented
fatherhood.
Fractured by our son’s every cry and
transported to heaven by every gurgle and smile, Alexander doted, day and
night. Staring into the cradle, he boasted, “Philip is truly a very fine young
gentleman. The most agreeable baby I ever knew—intelligent and sweet of temper.
Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I agreed, with a laugh. “Of
course.”
Sensing condescension, Alexander
turned in mock outrage. “It’s true! He’s handsome and his eyes are sprightly
and expressive. And he has a method of waving his hand that announces a future
orator.”
A future orator. Such grand plans he had for our boy,
before he was even out of swaddling.
But having been abandoned by his own
father, it made sense for my husband to draw so close to his infant son. For
him to feel not only the natural bonds that draw a parent to a child, but also
the desire to make up for what he’d lacked. It was as if Alexander thought to
somehow tip the scales of cosmic justice by giving his son all the love he
hadn’t received.
“How entirely domestic I’m growing,”
Alexander later said, bouncing our little Philip on his knee at Papa’s dinner
table. “I sigh for nothing but the company of my wife and my baby, and have
lost all taste for the pursuits of ambition.”
Kissing our father atop his head as
she slipped into her seat, Angelica gave a delicate snort. “You without
ambition? Betsy, call for a doctor. Hamilton must be sicker than we knew.”
The whole family laughed, because she
wasn’t wrong to doubt him. Especially when his desk in the upstairs hall was
piled with leather-bound, gilt-edged law books. Tory lawyers would no longer be
permitted to practice in state courts, which left an opportunity for men like
my husband to step into the vacancy, and Alexander had designed an ambitious
plan to condense his study of the law and start his own practice.
Though he seemed content to live in my
father’s house—and Papa was very happy to have us—I knew Hamilton yearned to
make his own fortune. Late one night, he returned from his duties as a tax
collector, and settling into a chair next to our sleeping baby, he opened a law
book and whispered, “Go on to bed, love. I will now employ myself rocking the
cradle and studying the art of fleecing my neighbors.”
Tax collecting by day, studying law by
night, and somehow managing, in the midst of it all, to conspire with my father
to build this brave new American world.
The Articles of Confederation had made
less a new nation than a loose alliance of states. Hamilton and my father
dreamed of something grander. And oh, how it filled my heart to see them
together each night, talking through ideas, my father’s wisdom tempering my
husband’s more passionate arguments—I took great pride in realizing that I’d
given my father more than a son and my husband more than a father; I’d given
both a trustworthy friend.
We were happy. I was
never happier, I think.
½
