From the Publisher
“Kim E. Nielsen’s richly textured biography provides a more interesting and complex narrative of Macy’s early years and the later life that she and Keller shared…Nielsen writes about disability and America’s past as well as any scholar today, and she does so unsentimentally and with subtlety, sensitive to the nuance and ambiguity that characterize the best history and biography.”—Journal of American History
A remarkable story of a vulnerable woman in a culture that allowed women neither freedom nor power. Still, somehow Anne, an almost blind orphan living in a poorhouse, managed to secure an education and carve out an independent life for herself and her student, Helen Keller. Anne Sullivan Macy is a feminist hero.—Mary Pipher, author of Reviving Ophelia and Seeking Peace
"A considerate yet equitable biography of a complex woman whose singular contributions to the burgeoning field of education for the blind have often been misjudged."—Booklist
"Nielsen overcomes all the obstacles her recalcitrant subject throws in her path, and creates a portrait of Sullivan's life that is complex with all its contradictions and inconsistencies."—Georgina Kleege, Disability Studies Quarterly
"Engaging and excellently researched . . . Nielsen shows how tragic Annie's 'secret' and 'shameful' past had been-a drama worthy of Dickens. . . . The extraordinary story of Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller is an exemplary reminder that perseverance in the face of obstacles can yield miracles."—Sidney Callahan, America
"How remarkable it is to learn about the complicated, flesh-and-blood person behind the feisty legend at the water pump. Kim Nielsen's biography reveals so much about one of the greatest teachers of all time, and her compassionate and honest writing made my heart go out to Annie Sullivan."—Rachel Simon, author of Riding the Bus with My Sister
"Fascinating and beautifully crafted, Beyond the Miracle Worker reinterprets Macy's life, challenging the mythology of her work with Helen Keller to reveal a powerful, rich, and surprising personal story. . . . Conveying the complexity and humanity of Macy and her world, this is an appealing biography for general readers and scholars alike."—Susan Burch, author of Signs of Resistance: American Deaf Cultural History, 1900 to World War II
"Rejecting hagiography, Nielsen offers a complex portrait of the woman Helen Keller called 'Teacher.' Especially interesting are Nielsen's reflections on Sullivan's own vision impairment and her lifelong struggle to support herself. It's time we all move beyond the sentimental trope of the 'miracle worker' as we consider the actual predicaments of those who care for and instruct people with disabilities."
—Ralph James Savarese, author of Reasonable People: A Memoir of Autism and Adoption
"Kim Nielsen's absorbing biography of Anne Sullivan Macy not only captures the complexity of Sullivan's character, but also offers fresh insights into her relationship with her famous pupil. Thoroughly researched, persuasive, and readable, Beyond the Miracle Worker is both a compelling story and an important contribution to women's history and the history of the disabled."—Elisabeth Gitter, author of The Imprisoned Guest: Samuel Howe and Laura Bridgman, the Original Deaf-Blind Girl
"Nielsen's engaging and comprehensive account of Annie Sullivan reveals a woman of great intellect and complexity who overcame many challenges in her own right. This book will irrevocably change what you thought you knew about the 'Helen-Annie' story."—Judith Heumann, Disability Rights Advocate and former U.S. Assistant Secretary Department of Education
"A significant contribution...Nielsen has provided a learned, readable narrative of Macy, one that succeeds admirably in foregrounding a woman who, during her own life, stood in the shadow of Keller. Their relationship was complex and fluid, but nothing if not tender, and Nielsen's careful scholarship does justice both to the intricacies and to the warmth of the friendship." —Daniel S. Goldberg, H-Disability: An H-Net Discussion Network
After writing two books about Helen Keller, historian Nielsen (The Radical Lives of Helen Keller) vowed she "would never again write anything even remotely related to her." Fortunately, she couldn't help herself: upon reviewing the letters of Keller's teacher, Anne Sullivan Macy, Nielsen "became convinced [we] had shortchanged the woman known only as the teacher of Helen Keller." Through Sullivan's correspondence and notes, Nielsen remedies this lack with a "lightly fictionalized" autobiography drawing on the written impressions of Keller and others. Nielsen devotedly chronicles Sullivan's emergence as an opinionated and intelligent if troubled woman who was born poor, afflicted early on with a debilitating eye disease and abandoned to an almshouse after her mother's death. Luck and innate ability plucked her out of the asylum and placed her in the classroom. But Nielsen concedes that Sullivan's relationship with Keller took center stage in both the public consciousness and private life. Citing historical uncertainty, Nielsen self-consciously skims over Sullivan's early teaching methods, including that iconic moment at the water pump-the very moment we all wonder about. 4 b&w photos. (May)Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
The lives of Helen Keller and her teacher, Anne Sullivan Macy, were so entwined that it is impossible to write about one without the other. Nevertheless, in this concise biography Nielsen (history & women's studies, Univ. of Wisconsin, Green Bay; The Radical Lives of Helen Keller) succeeds admirably in keeping the focus on Macy, adding to our understanding of Macy's tragic childhood in the Tewksbury, MA, almshouse, her schooling at the Perkins Institution for the Blind, her marriage to and separation from John Macy, and her struggles to hide the extent of her own disability. Macy's complexity is revealed, particularly in her struggle to remain the guiding force in Keller's life amid efforts by educators at Perkins and other schools to gain control of Keller and to benefit from her fame. This book will join works such as Lorena A. Hickok's The Touch of Magic, Joseph P. Lash's Helen and Teacher, and Dorothy Herrmann's Helen Keller: A Life as essential reading for those interested in Macy or Keller. Suitable for most public libraries and for academic libraries with strong collections in biography, special education, or the history of disabilities.
Linda V. Carlisle
A largely unsuccessful attempt at a full-scale biography of the difficult, unhappy woman whose life story is inseparable from that of Helen Keller. Called "Teacher" by Keller and popularly known as "The Miracle Worker," Anne Sullivan was born into poverty in the late 1800s and suffered intense psychological and physical miseries during a lifetime in which she was mostly dependent on others. Sent to an almshouse by her widowed father at age ten, she lived in the grimmest of conditions until admitted to the Perkins Institution, a famous school for the blind in South Boston. She was not completely blind, but her eyes required numerous surgeries and her sight was always precarious. Her life with Keller began after her graduation from Perkins, and from age 20 until her death she remained with the famous deaf-blind woman. "They lived intricately intertwined lives," writes Nielsen, "were deeply dependent upon one another, and loved one another profoundly." Sullivan's initial role as governess and teacher is well known, but as Nielsen (History and Women's Studies/Univ. of Wisconsin, Green Bay; Helen Keller: Selected Writings, 2005, etc.) demonstrates, that role evolved over time. It was a painful process, as the stubborn, defensive and proud woman struggled to establish herself as a serious and capable educator. As an adult, Keller became the duo's breadwinner, supporting them both financially for many years. Marriage to the much younger John Macy came late in Sullivan's life, and just how it worked for the threesome is unclear. Eventually the Macys separated, but Sullivan and Keller stayed together until the end. Unfortunately, many of the details are murky, and Nielsen is forced to acknowledgethat no record of events exists and that her subject's reactions can only be imagined. A sympathetic account hampered by inadequate and often contradictory source materials.
Read an Excerpt
It’s temp ting to begin this book like a fairy tale. Once upon a
time a poor, blind, and orphaned child named Annie magically grew into a
happy, sighted, and successful adult woman. She became a miracle worker,
lighting the intellectual fire and imagination of the deaf-blind girl Helen
Keller at a water pump in the wilds of Alabama. We know this kind of story. Many of our books and movies, the morality tales and parables we tell, even the heroes we’ve created, are versions of the same inspirational tale. The cheerful and uplifting message is that yes, you too can conquer anything in order to do the impossible.
But I won’t.
“Any book about me,” Anne Sullivan Macy reflected near the end of her life, “must be full of contradictions.”1 Beyond the Miracle Worker is a book that reflects these contradictions—the contradictions of a delightful,
gloomy, charismatically fascinating, and annoying woman who was neither blind nor sighted. Though she was born in 1866, her life is a surprisingly contemporary tale. It is the story of a caring, fiercely proud, and intelligent woman trying to forge meaningful human relationships despite her own ingrained flaws and wounds. It is the story of a woman deeply frightened of depending upon anyone else for emotional,
economic, or social sustenance.
And yet—in one of those contradictions that Macy warned us about—she made one notable exception: she did not hesitate to lean on her famous student, and later friend, Helen Keller. While the whole world assumed that Keller’s deaf-blindness forced her to depend on her teacher, Anne Sullivan Macy, my research suggests that the reverse more accurately characterizes their relationship of nearly fifty years. Macy leaned on Keller, juggling her uneasy combination of emotional vulnerability and a fierce desire for independence. Her lifelong struggle with chronic illness and depression was far more debilitating than Keller’s deaf-blindness. Keller provided love, acceptance, daily assistance,
an income, and a home. Their deep friendship, and Macy’s willingness to allow herself to be dependent on Keller, gave meaning to Macy’s life. Macy regarded herself as a “badly constructed human being,” perceptively providing a way to understand the complex adult that the orphaned and deserted child of the Tewksbury Almshouse became. Yet, we shouldn’t confine her to that characterization. As she herself admitted, “some of us blunder into life through the back door.”
Though it may have been through the back door, and blunder she did,
she entered into life fully.
Indeed, she saw the benefits of blundering, and faltering through life didn’t bother her. “If all people knew what was good for them and acted accordingly, this world would be a different world, though not nearly so interesting. But we don’t know what’s good for us, and I’m spending my days in experimenting. The experiments are amusing—and sometimes costly, but there’s no other way of getting knowledge.”
This remark characterizes Anne Sullivan Macy perhaps better than anything else. From childhood on, many others had held firm opinions about what was good for her. Those opinions could amuse her, wound her, or strengthen her, but in the end her determination to discover her own life path lay at the very core of her character. She knew she had made mistakes—some of them profoundly painful. Whatever the benefit, whatever the cost, she had to discover for herself what was best. The marvel is the ferocity with which she thirsted to discover life,
in its pains and its joys, for herself. As she said in concluding one of her 1916 letters to Helen, “We have only to keep a stiff upper lip and do our damnedest.”
After comp leting two previous books on Helen Keller I swore
I would never again write anything even remotely related to her. I
started a project far removed from Keller. I informed everyone in my professional circle about that far-removed project in order to commit myself to it.
Then I reread Anne Sullivan Macy’s 1916 letters to Helen Keller.
Macy had written them as she dealt with the illness that she thought would kill her. The letters reveal an introspective woman trying to understand her life. Vacillating between urgency and detachment, she reflected on pleasure, anger, complacency, and amazement. It struck me that her life embodied both contradictions and intensity: physical pain, emotional pain, isolation, friendship, joy, intellect, tenacity, success,
and near constant self-doubt. Yet, as she thought about death,
as she pondered her life, she took immense joy in the daily life of the
Puerto Rican countryside where she was staying.
As I reconsidered Macy, I became convinced that I, and nearly everyone else, had shortchanged the woman known only as the teacher of Helen Keller. A new biography of Anne Sullivan Macy is greatly needed, not only to do justice to her and to provide a peephole into
Keller and Macy’s multifaceted, and often surprising, friendship, but also because our cultural memory mythologizes and simplifies Macy as a straightforward educational superhero. She deserves more.
In addition, the increasing but still slow integration of people with disabilities into education, the workplace, and the public world makes this project significant. Macy’s disability did not occur in a vacuum,
isolated and abstract. Her daily experience of it was often defined by context—by institutions, by the expectations of others, and by the lack of social welfare support. Her life story, particularly when placed alongside that of Keller, reminds us of the diversity of disability experiences historically and today—and of the multiple ways that we, as individuals,
as institutions, and as a country, contribute to the disabling nature of physical and mental impairments.
Surprisingly, telling the life story of Anne Sullivan Macy with her as the central figure is a markedly new strategy. Numerous Keller biographies,
both older and more recent, discuss Macy but primarily as an ancillary figure to the real star of the story. These include Joseph P.
Lash’s Helen and Teacher: The Story of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan
Macy (1980) and Dorothy Herrmann’s Helen Keller: A Life (1998).
Helen and Teacher provides the most complex analysis of Macy but retains a nearly exclusive focus on her development and life as a teacher.
The most comprehensive biography of Macy is that of Nella Braddy
Henney, Anne Sullivan Macy: The Story Behind Helen Keller (1933). Endorsed by Keller, approved by Macy, and written by an intimate friend of both women, this book sought to establish Macy as a pedagogical hero. Macy’s most recent adult biography, published over forty years ago by Lorena Hickok, also defines her only according to Keller—even in its title: The Touch of Magic: The Story of Helen Keller’s Great Teacher,
Anne Sullivan Macy (1961). Macy was Keller’s teacher, and proud of it,
but her life story is so much more complicated and interesting than that single-minded characterization.
The goal of Beyond the Miracle Worker is to present Anne Sullivan
Macy in all of her complexity. First and foremost, by telling and analyzing
Macy’s life as her story—not Helen’s—this biography tells a new tale. Beyond the Miracle Worker follows the accidental and unexpected path an orphaned asylum child took to become a world-famous educator.
This includes an intimate depiction of growing up amidst the horrors of a mid-nineteenth-century asylum, a rarely if ever told story in U.S. history. It chronicles a tumultuous marriage. It analyzes the adult life of a chronically ill, disabled woman whose public identity excluded nearly all acknowledgment of her disability. It follows a smart and ambitious woman trying to make a professional life in a patriarchal society. And it traces the ever-changing friendship between Macy and
Keller, in which the deaf-blind Keller eventually cared for and became the personal aid of her former teacher.
In many ways, Macy resembles an archetypal American figure—the self-made man. As a young orphan housed in Massachusetts’s Tewksbury
Almshouse, she pleaded her way out with single-minded determination by literally pulling on the sleeves of touring philanthropists and begging for an education. Later on in her life, she exercised further determination and retained control of the child Helen Keller—and thus of her own professional life—despite the machinations of numerous others who were far more powerful. With intense purposefulness,
she repeatedly created herself. The obvious complication, however, is that though a “self-made man,” she was female, disabled, and of (to her)
shameful beginnings. Her life raises questions about the opportunities available to women to reinvent themselves in turn-of-the-century
A related theme is that of the narrow but changing economic and professional opportunities available to women. Macy is contemporary with the first generation of female college students who embraced pivotal and important roles in U.S. social reform, education, and civic life.
She is a contemporary of those who—like Jane Addams, Julia Lathrop,
and Florence Kelley—developed and energized the settlement house movement. She is, however, dramatically different. Though an extremely brilliant woman, she lacked any educational training or advanced degree, came from a family with no connections to wealth or prestige, was deeply ashamed of her past, and had little involvement in broad social reform. Other than her relationship to Keller, she had few opportunities to build on for personal advancement. Those she had came from flirtatious relationships with older men. From the time of Keller’s college graduation in 1904 until the early 1920s the two constantly sought new economic opportunities and stability as various money-making attempts failed. While she and Keller clearly valued one another, Macy clung to the relationship with such tenacity partially because of the narrow options available for a woman of her class and background, let alone one with a disability.
Also important to this biography and Macy’s life is the theme of education. As a child, Macy grasped for an education as an escape,
and a redemption, from poverty and the almshouse. As an untrained,
inexperienced, and isolated young woman she accomplished a task many had thought impossible: teaching language to the almost sevenyear-
old deaf-blind Helen Keller. Though not a Radcliffe student, she attended the prestigious female college alongside Keller, fingerspelling for her all lectures and books. Ironically, the woman who became one of the world’s most famous educators had no educational training,
and did little regarding the education of others after her one student became an adult.