Trudy Ederle's place in history is often overlooked.
I come from a family of open-water swimmers. I have friends who have done solo crossings, and I myself participated in a successful relay swim across the Channel in 2007. And yet, I only vaguely knew about Trudy Ederle. My dad has long asserted that Lynne Cox (who, in 1972, finally displaced Trudy as the youngest female swimmer to make the crossing) was the one who revolutionized open-water swimming by using the Australian Crawl rather than the Trudgeon. My mom regularly confuses Ederle with Florence Chadwick, who set a speed record in 1953. In many ways, the post-Crossing section of this book reads like a tragedy -- explaining how the recipient of America's first ticker-tape parade quickly lost any chance to capitalize on her hard work, and died mostly-forgotten.
But most of this book is a celebration. A celebration of an era where women started to come into their own, a sport came into its own, and the promise of possibility was so thick in the air that you could taste it. The author has adopted in Ederle not just a hero, but a symbol -- a girl who swam the Channel freestyle, and revolutionized a sport (prevailing wisdom at the time was that "Australian Crawl" was too taxing of a stroke for more than a few hundred yards; these days, the only reason someone would complete an open-water swim by some other method is for the publicity possibilities). Her pluck, strength, and talent shine in those passages, and the excitement that drives the writing is quite intoxicating.
This is an extremely well-researched work; appreciation of historical context aside, I loved the interesting tidbits that Stout peppered throughout -- for example, Johnny Weissmuller was one of the few swimmers during the early 20s who was perhaps more unbeatable than Ederle (the two never went head to head because of prevailing social mores at the time, but they often headlined at the same swim meets)...a few chapters later, while detailing their trip to the 1924 Paris Olympics, you discover that the reason that name sounds so familiar is that Weissmuller later starred as Tarzan in the classic films. Who'd have known? The reader encounters historical context, social commentary, and interesting trivia page after page after page. Even when the tale veers away from Ederle herself (as it often does, in the earlier, context-setting, chapters) the information being shared is so intriguing that you want to keep reading.
As a participant in the sport that Ederle revolutionized, I really appreciated this book. But I also enjoyed it as a feminist, a history buff, and a person who just likes a tightly-plotted, fast-paced read. It was all of these things, and worth a look.