One can hardly praise Matteson's narrative sufficiently. The depth of his research is evident. Yet his selection of telling detail is economical, and his presentation, interleaved with pertinent analysis, apposite conclusions and summations, is seamless and well-paced, never interrupting his entirely engaging evocation of his subject - an altogether remarkable person.
I will say that Matteson's prose becomes a bit too purple in certain passages for my taste. One quote suffices to make the point. Regarding the night that Fuller lost her virginity - at about the age of 36 or 37 - Matteson writes: "Her life's struggle to become a self-perfecting being had always run counter to the inconvenient human wants of her body - to be free from loneliness, to know the shocks and enfoldings of passion, to be loved. One night in Rome, Giovanni Ossoli have her these long-awaited gifts, but they came at a price. Never again could Margaret Fuller hope to stand alone atop her immaculate mountain. The pure spirit submitted freely to its human chains." (p. 353) As we used to say in East Texas - that's enough to gag a maggot. But passages of this kind are few but notable.
I do object to one element of Matteson's biography: his notion of Margaret Fuller's many identities and lives. In certain passages he notes that "[h]is work uses the conceit of successive identities (p. 449 n. 6) - an image, a trope that he uses to organize his presentation. Yet he claims that these shifts in identify reveal Fuller's capacity to "reinvent herself at will," that her metamorphoses - all thirteen of them - were transformations, discontinuities, in fact, that she willed in order to bring her lives into accord with each set of ideas she adopted as central to her present perspective on man and the infinite. So I am left with the impression that the notion of successive named identities and the lives that accompanied them amounts to rather more than a conceit.
Perhaps my response to the notion of a sudden collapse of one identify and the equally sudden appearance of its successor is influenced by personal experience. I have been well acquainted with persons who suffer from severe major depression (with psychotic features) or from multiple personality disorder. I have witnessed psychotic breaks. I have seen very ill individuals set one identity aside and enter into another, and in the process become perfect strangers to me.
I am sure that Matteson did not intend for his "construct" to suggest a psychopathology, but that's the problem. I don't think Matteson knows what he means when he write of Fuller's succession of identities and lives. Does he mean to use a conceit, a trope, employ a language game, or does he mean to suggest an analytical framework? It isn't clear, but I think it more likely that he intends the latter. If that is true, then it seems to me that he must base his biography on a clinically sound theory of personality, of identity, of human development, which will allow him to specify the components of Fuller's identity, to determine when one component changes, when another doesn't, when the accumulation of change represents a shift of identity and when it doesn't, how specifically identity determines the features of a "life," whatever that may mean. He presents no material of this kind - and even if his biography were based on sound theory, I'm glad he didn't introduce it into his text. The theory-laden psycho-biography of the 1960s and 1970s, e.g. Young Man Luther, is tedious at best. Yet theory can form a subtext that needn't obtrude.
Moreover, Matteson isn't consistent in the application of his "conceit" and "construct." I have noted several passages in the last few chapters of his book in which he emphasizes continuities, even as Fuller purportedly was shedding one identify, adopting yet another and entering into a new life. For example, of Fuller near the end of her life, once she had become the "revolutionary," Matteson writes: "... the narrative of her life that she had been telling herself since childhood - a story of ever upward motion and advancement toward personal perfection - had been all but shattered by the twin crises of unplanned motherhood and the collapse of the Roman revolution. If the upward trajectory had in fact been broken, however, her belief in it had not. She needed to believe that she would rise again. She needed to recover the inner force that had always driven her forward." (p. 412) Matteson doesn't explain how she could "reinvent herself at will" and yet retain certain features that had others had noted in her character since childhood, nor how continuity and discontinuity constitute a metamorphosis.
It's a pity that he resorted to such a half-baked, ill-formulated construct. He didn't really need it. I conjecture, however, that Matteson was seeking to differentiate his biography from other major biographies of Fuller. He didn't want to write yet another book, whose title read "Margaret Fuller [colon] [subtitle]. And so he chose to write about Fuller's identities and lives - rather than "An American Life." But I can only speculate.
And so I am beginning to think that biographers of thinkers or literary figures need to master at least one theory of personality, development or an analytical framework that makes some sort of sense - quite apart from their particular subject and work - in order to get at the capacities, the drives in them that prompted or compelled them to devote time and energy to projects and pursuits over the course of a life that is memorable, worth the writing. Superb narrative technique, musical language, profoundly thorough scholarship are necessary but not sufficient to produce a pitch-perfect biography - one that I find convincing at least.
All that being said, I am quite willing to ignore it all (in a second reading) for the sake of his altogether superb characterization of Fuller. Even though Matteson's book is the first biography of Fuller that I have read (Cappe, von Mehren, and Marshall are on order), I believe that his characterization of Fuller will remain my sense of the person. His descriptions of her responses to persons and events, her language, her commitments and passions, her decisions and actions, her reasoning are so full and clear that they evoke in me the sense of a living presence. Through his pages I became so fully engaged in her story, in her ideas, her perspective, her state of mind and feeling that I sometimes looked up expecting to see her there when I wanted to ask: "Is this really true?" I very rarely experience engagement in a book so intensely, but I find that experience highly gratifying.