By Miriam R. Kramer

Ariel Lawhon’s recent book, The Frozen River, was recently named an NPR Book of the Year and a Good Morning America Book Club Pick. A gripping historical mystery and thriller, it is set in 1790 in Hallowell, Maine, a town built along the Kennebec River. An alleged rapist has been found dead and beaten, trapped in the ice covering the river. Martha Ballard, the town’s midwife and healer, is called to examine the body of this man she knows through the accusations of  her friend, the parson’s wife, Rebecca Foster.

This novel plunges readers into the harsh, unforgiving, and long winter of post–Revolutionary War Maine, then a less cultivated part of Massachusetts. Lawhon has crafted a mystery that is as chilling as the frozen river itself. She masterfully weaves together fact and fiction, bringing to life the story of Martha Ballard, a real-life midwife whose meticulously kept diary forms the backbone of this compelling narrative.

As Martha thinks to herself, memory warps over time, but a simple entry to a diary keeps recollections and facts alive with at least some impartiality. When she pens records of healthy and stillborn births, her concise entries also sometimes encompass town activities and visits, serving as an accurate historical record for the town.

With her sharp mind and intimate knowledge of the town’s secrets, Martha finds herself drawn into the investigation in competition with a Harvard-educated physician with credentials but poor healing instincts, along with little experience practicing on patients such as pregnant women. He has ties to a powerful local judge, another man who was been accused of assaulting Rebecca at the same time.

Martha’s perspective as a mother of six children, two of whom died young from an epidemic, paints a vivid picture of a normal woman’s eighteenth-century life, showcasing the daily joys and sorrows, struggles, societal constraints, and complex relationships that develop within a small town. In her diary she also reports her daily activities, drawing us into the fascinating domestic life of the period. Even as a sensible woman, Martha is connected to nature, feeling a touch of superstition involving a rare silver fox she sees. She sees it as a talisman that somehow connects her to her own safety and purpose in fighting outdated social practices regarding women.

Her husband, Ephraim, ballasts her kindness, resolve, and feisty personality. They cause her to reject and testify in court against the remaining Puritanical mores that privilege a man’s word over a woman’s. In such a small community, much of the town, including the women, judge a woman negatively for reporting a rape or having a child out of wedlock. With her knowledge of the town’s secrets, she understands that hasty marriages often result in a child being born several months later. Even then, the hypocritical mothers and fathers criticize a woman with a child and no husband, making her a town pariah. She also knows that rapes occur and go unreported because of unfair laws. Only vigilante justice dispensed by men in secret generally prevails.

The book portrays births, deaths, illnesses, and the quiet dramas that unfold within the close-knit community, all through the lens of a woman whose wisdom and resilience are truly remarkable. As she testifies in court with her diary entry that recorded Rebecca Foster’s accusations, she stands up as a proto-feminist, risking the wrath of the corrupt and violent judge along with those who have joined him in court.

Through Martha, the women she helps, and the men who support her, Lawhon aptly portrays the societal injustices and gender inequalities that plagued 18th-century America. The novel skillfully explores themes of reputation, power, and the vulnerability of women within a patriarchal society. The investigation into the murder that unravels throughout the story exposes the deep-seated prejudices and biases that shaped the lives of those living along the Kennebec.

What sets “The Frozen River” apart is Lawhon’s dedication to historical accuracy. She meticulously researched Martha Ballard’s diary, incorporating authentic details about medicine, midwifery, and the social customs of the time. This commitment to authenticity lends the novel a powerful sense of realism, immersing readers in the sights, sounds, and smells of the late eighteenth century in New England.

That being said, the book is more than just a historical recreation. Lawhon artfully crafts a suspenseful mystery that keeps readers guessing until the very end. The interwoven plot lines, complex characters, and constant threat of danger create a palpable sense of tension that permeates every page.

Martha the midwife is an everywoman with force of will and empathy. As a mystery and thriller lover, it has been a long time since I thought about a book and wanted to get back to it while I am busy elsewhere. Ariel Lawhon has crafted a compelling and captivating tale that will resonate with readers long after they turn the final page. What a relief.

I have recently assigned The Frozen River for a local book group because I believe that the structure and point of view in the novel will grip my neighbors and draw them in after the first couple of pages. I also recommend it to those who enjoy historical fiction, mysteries, and stories about strong women who defy societal expectations. Fans of the wonderful, propulsive Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon should enjoy it.