Pryor's book is neither a formal biography of Lee nor a representative selection of his letters: it is a collection of essays, organized in roughly chronological order, each of which is prefaced by a letter or two intended to introduce a given topic. The text is about 90% Pryor, and 10% correspondence, not all of which is by Lee.
The results are very uneven. At times Pryor is a generous and sympathetic analyst of her subject, and then, seemingly at random, she will assume a harsh and censorious tone. These shifts of attitude come not merely between chapters (and topics) but within them.
Obviously, Lee is as much subject to criticism as any other historical figure. Modern scholarship is accustomed to revisionist perspectives on the man, as is demonstrated by the fact that even so kindly a biographer as Prof. Emory Thomas dedicated his book to arch-revisionist Thomas Connelly.
Pryor, on the other hand, seems at times motivated less by a revisionist impulse than by malice. Regrettably, this leads her to commit various historiographic sins, which I will list as briefly as possible, with a representative example. Bear in mind that each example is purely illustrative, and that many, many more could be added.
The most innocuous of these is her inappropriate use of emotionally-laden language. By this I mean that Pryor chooses words which are intended to elicit a negative response from the reader, even though there is no evident justification for doing so. For example, Lee was much given to offering sententious moral pronouncements and advice in his letters, particularly to members of his family. Although these are scarcely out of line coming from a Victorian pater familias, and appear to have been valued by his children, Pryor chooses to characterize them as "bullying" and "overbearing". She cites no examples to justify the harsh language, and letters published elsewhere do not bear out her characterization.
A related but much more serious sin is her willful distortion of source material. A very striking example is to be found in chapter nine, which opens with an 1841 letter from Lee regarding a domestic controversy about a slave named Robert. It's clear from Pryor's footnotes that our understanding of the affair is murky at best, but that doesn't stop her from massaging the narrative in such a way as to make Lee look like Simon Legree. Pryor's version of the story has her heroine, Mary Lee, trying to "rescue" Robert from a "domineering master", which Lee deplores because such "leniency" would diminish the authority of the master (the quoted words are Pryor's, and are not found in the letter). But the fact is, all we really know about the affair is that Mary wanted to buy a slave from a master about whom we know literally nothing, for reasons that are not clear, but which apparently involved some question of discipline. Lee was against it: the transaction would somehow be unfair to the master, and possibly bad for discipline, but he also thought it would be a source of "trouble & vexation" to his wife, and he doubted that Robert would in the end be any better off. Pryor chooses to suppress Lee's expression of concern for his invalid wife, and his concern for Robert's ultimate well-being, presumably because they would show Lee in a positive light.
The difference between what is actually in the admittedly obscure letter and Pryor's retelling of it is quite remarkable. It is also very troubling, since the only reason we are able to detect her manipulation of the source document in this instance is because she provides it to the reader. Her book is based on thousands of unpublished documents which are unavailable to readers, and we have no way of knowing whether her use of these unavailable materials is reliable.
Equally troubling is sin #3, the misleading use of quotations from primary sources. By this I don't mean her practice of citing sources which support her views and ignoring those which do not (which is too common a practice in scholarship to be noteworthy). I mean those places where she will quote a document and omit sections inconvenient to her argument. A good example of this is her selective use of Lee's famous letter on slavery from 1856; she quotes from it extensively, but omits the section where he says "slavery is a moral & political evil". This is because she knows it would damage her claim that Lee's opposition to slavery was not based on morality but on its inefficiency.
How did all this slipshod scholarship escape the notice of those who showered the book with awards? Part of it, I suppose, is that it is currently fashionable to snipe at Lee, and her book, although scarcely the first revisionist text, is certainly the largest and most thorough of its kind. Another factor would seem to be that the book was heavily promoted, with breathless claims about groundbreaking research and unprecedented access to secret correspondence, and so on. At least one top specialist in the field was annoyed by the ballyhoo: Michael Fellman, himself a "revisionist" biographer of Lee, tartly observed, "Pryor claims to have read a 'huge number of newly discovered papers,' although she does not specify in the text or notes just which material is new. Nothing I noticed was all that earth-shatteringly different, and it is a pity the author failed to be specific about her documentary discoveries."
And yet, here is the perverse thing of it all: the book really is not a hatchet job, and Pryor's "sins" can be readily countered by an abundance of scholarly virtues. She has done a prodigious amount of research, and her voluminous notes are often very helpful and illuminating; the amount of sheer hard work that went into the book is quite astonishing, and I would guess that it is the most ambitious study of Lee since Freeman.
Much of the book's analysis of Lee's personality and career is fair-minded and acute. The section on his fateful decision to leave the US Army and join the Southern cause splendidly unravels the complexities underlying his choice; her chapter on Lee's flirtatious correspondence is completely charming; the chapters recounting his leadership of the Army of Northern Virginia are highly critical, but intelligently argued; her account of his troubled post-war life is judicious and even moving, and she understands why his contemporaries revered him. You just never know where you are at with Pryor: after messing up the 1856 letter, and developing her "inefficiency" theory, she proceeds, only a few pages later, to sum up Lee's "philosophy of slavery" in an exemplary way. The quality of her work is so unpredictable that, if this were the Bible, we'd be assuming multiple authorship, and assigning different sections to "J" or "E" or "P"!
Perhaps I am kidding myself, but maybe the problem with Pryor (who died in a freak car accident a few years ago), was that she wasn't really a professional historian. Although she had the proper university training, she actually made a living as a state department official, apparently one of some importance. And therein lies a final irony: here is a government official who helped implement the foreign policies of George W. Bush and other war criminals, attacking Lee for "founder[ing] in the ignobility of his era's easy assumptions." Really, sometimes all you can do is laugh.