Francis Tiffany did a great service to the world by writing this early work on the life of Dorothea Dix. His coverage of her efforts is among the first great documents of her plight to improve the mentally ill. Dorothea Dix was first and foremost a lady, and her life's work a testimony to what humans are capable of. This book will always be a classic.

Gollaher paints a very dull picture of Dorothea Dix. There is not one colorful insight into this fascinating, world-changing woman. If there was even a hint of love or respect, or even curiosity about his subject, the author never reaveals it. There is an inexcusable failure on the author's part to make this famous lady 'touchable'. He discredits her faith with one stroke of his pen and rambles about the more cerebral parts of her life and work. Yes, she was interested in other things besides helping people but I don't care to know about how many bugs she collected and how many famous persons she socialized with. I want to know about Dorothea Dix! This was one of the most discursive, spiritless biographies I have read in many years. Read another biographer's account of this amazing woman, perhaps one that is written by a woman.

I bought this book after reading the following award citation it received from the Organization of American Historians: "VOICE FOR THE MAD provides more than a fine analysis of how and why a key northern antebellum reformer came to her reform, more than a well-written, sophisticated account of how a well-traveled reformer sought progress in Europe and the Americas, more than an illuminating account of how and why Americans created asylums for the insane. Gollaher's study also throws important light on how a woman outside the home could be an important lobbyist inside antebellum male legislatures; on how and why antebellum religion generated a white-hot reformist passion; on how and why reformist passion often stopped short, as in Dix's case, of anti-slavery; and perhaps most astonishingly, on how and why the Yankee woman as a reforming fanatic could succeed in Southern legislatures...[A] gem of a biography." Amazingly, the book is even better than this, because it reveals how a person was able to use her own demons -- her anger, her feelings of abandonment, her incredible nervous energy -- as sources of strength in the public arena of politics.

The title of this book: 'Voice for the Mad' does not accurately describe what Dorothea Dix has accomplished as part of her life's work.

Her achievement is in helping to provide shelter and care for those tragically afflicted by brain dysfunction. By helping to create hospitals with humane conditions, for people who are unable to achieve integration with society on their own terms, she has not provided the mad with a voice, but with the example of offering humane comfort in a time of great personal weakness.

Who is the Elie Wiesel of the Mad? Maybe, this is too much to ask of someone when their symptoms are acute, or too much to remember, when the symptoms are in remission. Perhaps, this book may never be written.

However, providing housing, food, medication and care for the time of affliction may be a step in the right direction. I have a feeling that an illness must be extraordinarily grave, in order to prompt today's society to provide the above.

I've just read through all the available bios of Dorothea Dix for an upcoming film project, and this book really puzzles me. Why? Let me quote from a positive review, written in a professional historical journal: "What Brown presents is a surprisingly intimate portrait that still acknowledges Dix's many shortcomings--her limited view of women's rights, her blindness on the issue of slavery, and her lingering nativism. Despite Dix's personal limitations, however, Brown recognizes her many successes in convincing parsimonious legislatures to build asylums and putting the plight of the mentally ill on a national stage" (Stephan D. Andrews, Journal of the Early Republic). Sounds good, huh? But there's almost nothing original here; nothing that hasn't been written about by previous biographers. Honestly I can't figure out why Harvard Press spent the money to publish it. (The book seems to have been funded by some special endowment -- even the editors must've figured it would never sell.) To me -- What do I know? -- this is a classic example of academic logrolling, getting other historians to write good things about a book nobody will ever read. There's definitely nobody in Brown's book I can see to make a film of.

Though Brown doesn't over-dramatize it (indeed, he doesn't dramatize it much at all), Dorothea Dix lived one of the most extraordinary lives in the 19th century, one that included the Boston Unitarian intelligentia during the 1820s and 30s, state politics in most state capitols throughout the North and South during the 40s and 50s, Washington, DC, and friendships with senators and presidents, the worst of the Civil War (when she headed up the women nursuing corps for the Union Army) . . . and then there were the insane. Brown is good, if dry and lapidary, on the exterior movement of her career. And he's good at the political context for her career. Yet, as other reviers noticed, his book is really a life and times, with emphasis on "times," not a nuanced and graceful biography. He never gets inside Dix's head, which leaves one feeling disappointed.

These two reviews move me to write. One says that the author gives Dix too much credit and does not paint her sufficiently as a psychotic; the other says the author does not admire Dix enough. These two unbiased readers alone demonstrate that Brown has written a masterly biography of a complex woman in the midst of a turbulent era. Brown's Dix is a complicated and fascinating figure--not a feminist heroine nor a whipping post for the politically correct. Her career has much to teach us about the aspirations and limitations of 19th century reformers. Brown's book, clearly and elegantly written, thoroughly researched, is the best book on 19th-century reform since Lou Masur's Rites of Execution. Brown has recovered Dorothea Dix, not as a 20th-century reader would have liked to have her, but as she really was. This book is a major achievement.