... a compelling and well-researched dual biography ... parts of this truly astounding tale are best left for the reader to discover, then reread in disbelief. At times, this can be horrifying, but it feels vital that we bear witness — and Hallman handles these moments of intimate suffering in a way that never comes across as exploitative ... To help give Anarcha a voice, Hallman draws on first-person accounts of formerly enslaved people. This is an effective device; while we know that we are not reading Anarcha’s actual words or thoughts, she comes alive ... The book is packed with detail and the subject matter is treated with due seriousness; the stories of Anarcha and Sims flow. That said, it is not perfect: Comets and falling stars are a pat recurring trope that repeatedly emphasizes the interconnection of the stories and grows to feel heavy-handed. But this is a small quibble. Say Anarcha is an important book and deserves to be widely read, especially by those in medicine.
[A] new masterpiece of revisionist history ... A fresh crack of light across the grim shadows of slavery and race hatred, the text also treats a reader to ripping yarns.
Double biographies are fairly unusual and tend to be about people who were linked together in the minds of their contemporaries. But Anarcha was not associated with Sims in the public mind because Sims took great pains to ensure that she would not be—not because of any shame he felt about exploiting an enslaved woman but because the recurrence of her fistulas belied Sims’s narrative. Hallman’s determination to bring Anarcha out of obscurity restores her humanity and allows readers to reexamine the corrupt foundations of women’s health care.
