The Personal Librarian changed my life. I am not referring only to the immense privilege of sharing the life and legacy of the magnificent, inimitable Belle da Costa Greene with readers everywhere, although, of course, that has been an incredible journey. What I mean is that I’ve been personally transformed by the tremendous honor of becoming partners, then friends, and then ultimately sisters with my cowriter, Victoria Christopher Murray, as we navigated the challenging racial landscape of Belle’s world. We had difficult, honest, and sometimes awkward conversations about the similarities and differences in our experiences as a white and a Black woman in America, and we forged the sort of unique and rare bond that we wish everyone could have. Thus we decided that our next book would not only approximate our experience but invite readers to share in it as well.
What would that next book look like? How could we bring readers into this tricky, fraught space in a way that linked rather than divided them? Were we too ambitious in attempting something so challenging, no matter its importance?
This was the focus of much discussion between us as we launched The Personal Librarian into the world, and we had the great fortune of hearing readers’ reactions to Belle’s story and to us. When we realized that readers from all sorts of backgrounds longed for the same sorts of discussions Victoria and I had and for the kind of connection we shared, we knew we had to proceed.
But a question remained. Which women from the past could best embody our experience and fully draw readers into the pages of our next book? We turned this conundrum round and round. There is no shortage of astonishing historical women who have addressed the sorts of issues Victoria and I routinely discussed as we wrote The Personal Librarian (and, to be honest, that we talk and Zoom and text about every day). But when we uncovered the largely unknown, very close friendship with the much-beloved (and occasionally reviled, especially in her day) First Lady, diplomat, and activist Eleanor Roosevelt and one of the most important civil rights leaders, Black educators, and governmental officials of her time, Mary McLeod Bethune (known as the “First Lady of the Struggle”), we knew that we had found our women. Two First Ladies.
Hand in hand, Victoria and I walked alongside Mary and Eleanor as they first met at a ladies’ luncheon, a Black and a white woman, one deeply entrenched in the fight for civil rights and one just beginning her life’s work as an activist. We followed them as their friendship grew, despite the fact that they became close in a time of segregation and struggled to even find places where they could share a cup of tea. We held our breath as they sometimes stumbled and had to undertake difficult, uncomfortable conversations to get to the other side, to a place of real intimacy and honesty. And we rejoiced as—behind the scenes, often in the shadows—they joined hands and leapt over the man-made barrier between Black and white people to fight for equality, helping to forge the very foundations of the civil rights movement.
While neither Victoria nor I would ever dare to compare ourselves to the esteemed Mary and Eleanor, certainly there are parallels between the evolution of the world-changing friendship in The First Ladies and the arc of our own close relationship. Writing about these brave visionaries and the challenges they faced invited us to go deeper in our discussions about race, thereby strengthening our friendship and, for me at least, inspiring me to take an even stronger stance against racism in my writing and in my everyday life. Those discussions also helped inform Mary and Eleanor’s courageous conversations in The First Ladies. More than anything, we hope that you, reader, will be energized by the historic friendship of Mary McLeod Bethune and Eleanor Roosevelt and link hands with Victoria and me as we walk this path together, becoming closer in understanding and working toward a more equitable future.