**Shortlisted for the 2024 Lord Aberdare Literary Prize for the Best Book in British Sport History**
4½
Rachel Hewitt’s impressive and engaging exploration of women’s outdoor physical activity both bridges important gaps in understanding and builds compelling commonalities in women’s experiences of the outdoors across 140 or more years. Grounded in her family tragedy were she returned to running in the wake of the deaths of several relatives, she was driven to reflect on the hostility of many men to her presence and the range of threats they posed to her and other women runners. This led her to wonder about the historical bases of this hostility – after all these were not activities constrained as team sports by number, space, and time, but running in public places. Although circumstances changed with constraints imposed by Covid-19 public health rules, the narrative of exclusion she unravels is consistent, compelling, and insightful.
The focus of her historical inquiry is an Anglo-Irish woman, landowner, and mountain climber called, throughout, Lizzie Le Blond (although that was her 3rd husband’s name). Although three times married, Lizzie spent most of her life living apart from successive husbands climbing in Switzerland, where her closest relationships tended to be with other women climbers and guides (most serious climbers, and Lizzie was a serious climber, necessarily and understandably have close and long term relationships with specific guides, often inheriting (or being inherited by) subsequent family generations). Lizzie’s climbing career was marked by many ‘firsts’ – first ascent, first by a woman, first British, and so forth – as key markers of climbing standing. She was a keen athlete in other contexts – skating, tobogganing, sailing, and the like, as well as a highly accomplished landscape photographer. Yet the officialdom of mountaineering refused to recognise her standing, denied her membership of the Alpine Club (because she was a woman), and subtly and not so subtly denigrated her capabilities. It’s a common image of the Victorian era.
Yet, Hewitt uses Lizzie’s case in two important ways. First, and less surprisingly, she explores the ways that Lizzie’s late 19th and early 20th century experiences link to and illustrate the commonalities in women’s early 21st century experiences. A sizeable part of the book is drawn from Hewitt’s running life and her shift during the 2010s from local ‘jogger’ to fell runner completing runs of up to 40 miles across northern England’s hills and moors. Woven through this, Lizzie’s story reflects and reflects on those contemporary experiences. Second, and more innovatively, Hewitt uses Lizzie’s life to explore the changing Victorian attitudes to women’s outdoor lives and physicality, showing that the exclusions we associate with the era were not an ahistorical static phenomenon, but developed shifting from tolerance, sometimes begrudging, to active exclusion by the early 20th century. In doing so, Hewitt draws a subtle and nuanced picture of shifting attitudes, approaches, and outlooks in ways that inform the contemporary while also maintaining the distinctiveness of the past. That said, there is a little more contextualisation to do here to make this Victorian trajectory clearer, but that might have made it a different book.
Hewitt, however, does not simply leave it at one story. She locates Lizzie in an active network of women climbers and other outdoor activities, complementing this historical awareness with a solid engagement with contemporary sociological explorations of the gendering of sport, respectfully recognising the fraught character of some questions, while being clear about her inclusive approach. That makes for a sophisticated socio-cultural exploration of histories of women’s outdoor physicality, alongside a carefully historicised grasp of contemporary experiences. On top of that, she writes well, with a sophisticated grasp of her craft (I’d hope so, she teaches creative non-fiction writing), making for a flowing and engaging text.
Don’t be put off by its length, it’s a fabulous, important, and elegant read. Highly recommended.