Literature has a way of transcending distance and generations, an ability to connect us to those with whom we have little else in common. Reading In the Margins, I was connected to Frances Wolfrenston, a rector’s wife and book collector in the 17th century, just as she was connected to her mother through their shared love of Shakespeare, and as she connects with the children she teaches to read.

In a slowly stabilising Puritan England, Frances is tasked with enforcing religious compliance within her village; a task which involves controlling the freedom of speech, of activity and of movement of those most vulnerable. Remembering her mother, the devout Catholic who taught Frances to read, she quietly defies not only the Puritan laws, but also fosters literacy and expression among the women and children in her village.

When Frances finds out her mother has been imprisoned for religious crimes, the stakes heighten. Separated by prison walls, a day of travel, the wishes of both her husband and father, and by religious practise, the two women remain connected only by their mutual love for Shakespeare, for the language that unites us all.

In this love letter to literature, language, and to the women who have, quietly, allowed for the proliferation of it, Gail Holmes highlights the power of the ordinary. Her women are not radicals or fighters – they are readers, mothers, friends, teachers. They are the women usually doomed to remain in the margins of our history books. However, Holmes shows that ‘well-behaved’ women can make history – the power of words, books and community can change the world.