The Civil War acted like a battering ram on human beings, shattering both flesh and psyche of thousands of soldiers. Despite popular perception that doctors recklessly erred on the side of amputation, surgeons labored mightily to adjust to the medical quagmire of war. And as Brian Craig Miller shows in Empty Sleeves , the hospital emerged as the first arena where southerners faced the stark reality of what amputation would mean for men and women and their respective positions in southern society after the war. Thus, southern women, through nursing and benevolent care, prepared men for the challenges of returning home defeated and disabled.
Still, amputation was a stark fact for many soldiers. On their return, southern amputees remained dependent on their spouses, peers, and dilapidated state governments to reconstruct their shattered manhood and meet the challenges brought on by their newfound disabilities. It was in this context that Confederate patients based their medical care decisions on how comrades, families, and society would view the empty sleeve. In this highly original and deeply researched work, Miller explores the ramifications of amputation on the Confederacy both during and after the Civil War and sheds light on how dependency and disability reshaped southern society.
Impeccably researched, with notes and a bibliography that are just as good as the text itself, this is a great niche read for both U.S. and medical historians.
Its central argument, that the number of amputations that occurred during the Civil War created a moral and public policy quandary after the war, is organized by various lenses: war-time experience, the return home, the reception received by survivors and how the lack of social structure during Reconstruction was addressed at both state and federal levels in the Southern United States.
It's fascinating in the holistic viewpoint of the telling, from how a lack of medical record-keeping hampered documenting true numbers of amputations, to how a lack of medical personnel combined with a high number of casualties pushed amputations up on the battlefield, but also tackling the conceit of idealized white Southern manhood depending on an intact body, and how the large number of War amputees forced a renegotiation of that ideal.
But the strongest aspect of the book is how the author manages to make the lack of medical care and support facilities exactly as terrifying as the injuries themselves. The reader remains engaged from the battlefield to the legislative houses and beyond. No mean feat for any history book.
I do wonder about the exclusion of Black soldiers and veterans from the narrative; even though the author explains their scarcity in the introduction as resulting from a scarcity of documentation, they appear a few times in the notes and bibliography, which almost argues that some inclusion may have been possible. Still, an overall solid history text.
After learning that the postwar experience for disabled veterans differed depending on whether one fought for the Union or the Confederacy (thanks Reddit!), I decided to check out Empty Sleeves. The author has a habit of rephrasing the main arguments of his chapter several times to drive home his points so it can come across as a bit repetitive. But overall it reads like a professor giving an impassioned series of lectures, exploring the reality disabled veterans faced and how this reality reshaped society. A solid read.
I actually read the Kindle edition, which isn't listed as an edition. Anyway...
I thought the book was interesting in its way. I wasn't too sure about whether some of the terminology would be considered not very sensitive today, like the frequent use of the phrase "amputated men." I know the labeling at the time was much worse.
One thing that struck me is how much the "Lost Cause" mythology had affected my views, considering that I'm someone who's always lived in the North. Not that I especially bought into the story of how Confederate soldiers were tragic and heroic, and fighting for a noble cause, but the influence of the idea was certainly floating around as I grew up.
I got the sense that there was broad agreement at the Federal level that the United States government wouldn't be giving pensions to the "traitors" who fought for the Confederacy. Conditions got better once there was a "redemption." I wondered if this was when the Southern states that had seceded were again in charge of their state governments. Certainly Andrew Johnson was all about forgiving Confederates. But otherwise, the Federal government wasn't going to reward traitors.
Most of the state governments of states that had seceded, and some border states, eventually gave disabled Confederate soldiers pensions. At first Benevolent Societies had helped, but private groups moved towards weaving the Lost Cause mythology, and most disabled soldiers weren't too into the myth, apparently. But there was interest in providing prostheses to amputees, at first through those private benevolent organizations, and then from the state governments.
I was struck by how much "history rewritten" had made it harder to challenge Southern tenets that had solidified by the twentieth century. During and right after the Civil War, too soon for the history to be rewritten, there was a lot more clarity about who had fought to preserve the Union, and who had fought to keep the slaveholding system in place.
Super interesting! The book first looks at the Civil War surgeons (the book focuses on the Confederacy) who were not quite the “butchers” that public memory and Hollywood movies make them out to be. It then moves on to examine the agency of these wounded soldiers in either accepting or rejecting these potentially life-saving amputations. There is then a chapter about the women in the South who either chose to care for these wounded veterans or decided that it was just too much to take on. The book then looks at life after the war for these men who needed to adapt to their new bodies and make a living - and who were eventually, kind of, helped out by state-funded pensions. It’s a book about war, gruesome injuries, masculinity, and resilience.
I thought this was super interesting as a history nerd and an OR nurse. I do think about half of the stories of soldiers and people could’ve been removed and it would’ve been just as powerful. It did tend to get a bit repetitive. But this is a great read if this is something that interests you. When half of the book is citation you know you’re in for something very informative.
An excellent study and well-written history book. From the title, I was afraid there might be a lot of gory details, but, while sobering, the text was not over-filled with bloody imagery. The entire text was very informative, and I especially appreciated the details about Confederate surgeons and the chapter on women's role in the recovery and encouragement of their soldiers.
I was able to borrow this book through inter-library loan; I definitely hope to acquire a copy for my historical medicine bookshelf.
Highly recommended for anyone interested in the truth of Civil War medicine.
It was an interesting topic but I found myself bored at times with the way in which it was written. It seemed that with every topic sentence written, he gave a full life account of someone who supported that argument. We learned their name, where they were from, what they did, all the details. This sounds great initially. However, because there were so many, I cannot recall one of their stories. They all ended up blending together because the book felt so formulaic.