{"id":43,"date":"2025-11-04T13:19:08","date_gmt":"2025-11-04T18:19:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/bossladylawmom\/?p=43"},"modified":"2025-11-04T13:22:50","modified_gmt":"2025-11-04T18:22:50","slug":"caroline-wests-wrong-women-and-the-boundaries-of-oral-history","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/bossladylawmom\/2025\/11\/04\/caroline-wests-wrong-women-and-the-boundaries-of-oral-history\/","title":{"rendered":"Caroline West\u2019s Wrong Women and the Boundaries of Oral History"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Prefatory Note<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

*Although Caroline West does not explicitly describe Wrong Women: Selling Sex in Monto, Dublin\u2019s Forgotten Red Light District<\/em> as an oral history<\/em>, the back cover copy states that the book \u201cdraws on oral history\u201d to tell the stories of women who lived and worked in Dublin\u2019s Monto district. My critique, therefore, proceeds from the perspective of an oral history student evaluating the text through the methodological standards of the field. For the purposes of our course, Wrong Women<\/em> would not qualify as an oral history text, because its sources, structure, and evidence do not align with the defining principles of oral history practice.  I felt the need to add this note because what follows is an analysis of what Wrong Women<\/em> is not, but not a critique of what West ever claimed it to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Caroline West\u2019s Wrong Women: Selling Sex in Monto, Dublin\u2019s Forgotten Red Light District<\/em> (2025) announces itself as an act of recovery. \u201cBeyond the simple binary of exploitation and empowerment, this book is a study into the history of the unrecognized, the voice that other people would prefer not to hear, and the spectrum of violence against women, particularly marginalized women\u201d (West, 2025, p. 6).  Yet from its opening pages, the book exposes a central contradiction: it declares that it \u201cdraws\u201d on oral history<\/em>, but its actual reference to oral testimony is limited if what\u2019s included can be deemed oral history at all. The women who populate West\u2019s pages\u2014sex workers, former laundry inmates, street children, madams and social reformers\u2014died long before recording technology, and their \u201cwords\u201d survive only as hearsay relayed through their descendants, barely any of whom know of the Monto at its peak \u2013 from 1860-1925.  What emerges, then, is not oral history in the methodological sense taught by Ritchie (2014), Sommer and Quinlan (2024), or Perkiss (2022), but rather a hybrid of archival research, social commentary, and empathetic speculation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Monto was once reputed to be the largest red-light district in Europe. West aims to restore its women to historical visibility. \u201cThe women of\u2026Monto have shaped the course of history. But we have learned from them without acknowledging them\u201d (West, 2025, p. 265).  Her ambition\u2014to retrieve agency and voice from stigma\u2014is both feminist and urgent. West (2025) acknowledges: \u201cWhile we can\u2019t directly interview the women and girls of Monto, this book strives to promote their voices as much as possible and support them with the voices of their descendants\u201d (p. 7).  This acknowledgement hints at the methodological slippage that follows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the most striking weaknesses of Wrong Women<\/em> is its sourcing. As a student of oral history, I have learned that transparency about one\u2019s sources\u2014who was interviewed, when, how, and under what conditions\u2014is an ethical cornerstone of the field. Yet Caroline West\u2019s book provides no way for the reader to verify or trace the origins of her material. There are no citations, reference notes, or interview transcripts of any kind. Instead, West includes just a page and a quarter titled \u201cFurther Reading,\u201d listing twenty-one general works. At the bottom of that page she writes, \u201cFor a full bibliography and reference list, please visit www.iamcarolinewest.com.\u201d When I navigated to that site, however, I found only a dead link: \u201cWebsite Expired. This account has expired. If you are the site owner, click below to login.\u201d For a book that claims to draw on oral interviews, this absence of verifiable documentation is troubling. It prevents readers and researchers from checking context, assessing reliability, or even confirming that the interviews occurred in the form implied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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West does identify several individuals as sources, but their relationship to the Monto era (roughly 1860\u20131925) is tenuous at best. She cites \u201ca great-great-granddaughter and a great-granddaughter of madam Annie Meehan\u2026who grew up hearing whispers and snippets about what her grant-granny had been up to\u201d (West, 2025, p. 7).   Another informant is \u201ca great-grandson to madam and convicted murderer Margaret Carroll\u201d (West, 2025, p. 7).  Martin Coffey is the author of a book called What\u2019s Your Name Again?<\/em> \u201cHe has sifted through his family history to discover how their connections to Monto have shaped his family since Margaret was convicted\u201d (West, 2025, p. 7). A third source, folklorist Terry Fagan, recorded stories from elderly Monto residents decades after the district\u2019s closure; West writes that \u201cthrough his interviews, we can hear a visceral account of life in the tenements\u201d (West, 2025, p. 8).  She also mentions \u201cwomen working in the sex trade today,\u201d interviewed at a 2023 banner-making event for the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers, as well as \u201cthoughts from journalist Sarah McInerney,\u201d who covers contemporary violence against women in sex work (West, 2025, p.8).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, West (2025) summarizes her method this way: \u201cThe stories from my interviews [with the aforementioned people] are woven through medical records, memories of local residents, official documents, academic theories, folklore, scraps of words and sentences, and the experiences of those in similar situations at the same time as Monto\u2019s existence\u201d (p. 10).  Taken together, these statements show that none of West\u2019s informants possess firsthand memory of Monto itself. What we have instead is a chain of mediated recollections\u2014descendants repeating \u201cwhispers and snippets,\u201d contemporary sex workers reflecting on parallels, and a folklorist recalling what others once told him. Each of these layers introduces distance, interpretation, and hearsay. From an oral-history perspective, that matters: as Sommer and Quinlan (2024) emphasize, oral history depends not just on words spoken, but on the documented interaction between interviewer and narrator\u2014the conditions under which memory is recorded, preserved, and contextualized. Without transcripts, dates, or audio files, West\u2019s \u201cvoices\u201d remain untraceable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Throughout Wrong Women<\/em>, West employs the rhetoric of orality without the practice of oral history. Chapter 19 mourns all that we do not know about the women of Monto:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We don’t know about the woman’s inner lives, their sense of self or self sense of humor. Who were they beyond the label of \u2018poor unfortunate\u2019?… How much power and choice they had in their day-to-day lives? How did they understand sexual violence, power dynamics, consent, pleasure, pregnancy and contraception?…How did they think about their experiences [in Monto]?  We don\u2019t have\u2026enough information on how the women of Monto responded to [the] stigma [that accompanied being a sex worker] (West, 2025, p. 281).<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This passage epitomizes the book\u2019s paradox. The women\u2019s experiences, then, are speculated, not recorded. If oral history is defined by the process of interviewing and recording the memories of living individuals who consent to share their experience within a relationship of trust, then to imagine what someone might have experienced or might have reacted <\/em>is a literary gesture, not a methodological one. West\u2019s empathy is palpable, but her practice collapses the distinction between reconstructing and hearing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To her credit, West acknowledges this gap.  There are no or very few records and actual accounts from Monto, so West repeatedly uses examples from brothels in New Orleans, San Francisco, Paris, London, and Australia for comparison and to extrapolate what conditions in Monto may have been.  West quotes a recollection<\/s> reflection from a man about how his grandmother<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u2026could have felt living in these conditions after moving to Dublin to reunite with her mother after growing up separately from her in Tipperary. \u2018The tenement houses in the area where her mother lived out her life must have been very strange indeed for this young country woman, with the smell of boiled cabbage, bodies washed and unwashed, hallways marked with years of blood, sweat and tears, stairways drenched and stained from all sorts of human waste that was carried out in buckets to the one and only toilet in the backyard. Did she perhaps, at any time, long for the fresh clean air of Thomastown in county Tipperari?\u2019 (West, 2025, p. 72).<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Such passages reveal the book\u2019s distance from oral history.  Oral history does not imagine what someone must have<\/em> felt; it records what someone remembers<\/em> feeling.  West generates intimacy through empathetic conjecture, not through a reciprocal exchange that defines oral history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West yearns for evidence of a \u201cguidebook\u201d (a\/k\/a a \u201cblue book\u201d) for Monto\u2019s red-light district (though she has found no such primary source yet).  \u201cWhile these guides proliferated across the British Empire, we must ask – was there a blue book for Monto?\u201d The author cites to several print and stationary shops in the vicinity of Monto on Sackville St. She then speculates \u201cif [the printers] could make money on the side it was surely an opportunity not to be ignored, and they may also have been the ones to print the business cards that the madams gave to sailors. It is not a stretch to think<\/em> the madams saw the value of this form of communication [newspapers]\u201d (West, 2025, p.87, emphasis added).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 6 continues with this wishful thinking: \u201cPerhaps one day a scrap of paper will be unearthed in an old dockyard halfway across the world with the names of Monto\u2019s inhabitants and their specialties splashed across it\u201d (West, 2025, p. 88).  There was evidence that a printer named Bartholomew had been invited to a masquerade ball by \u201cthe queen of the red-light scene in Dublin.\u201d Based on this invitation and no other cited evidence, West (2025) writes \u201cBartholomew was clearly comfortable with the sex trade and happy to do favors for his favorite Madame\u201d (p. 87).  Other powerful people in the printing business and distribution business had been invited to that same masquerade ball, from which West speculates: \u201cthese party guests show a connection between people with power in the printing and distribution businesses and those in the sex trade, making a blue book of some kind a real possibility\u201d (p. 88).  Finally, citing no one, she concludes: \u201cmost likely, if such books did exist, they perished on their onward journeys or were deliberately destroyed by vigilantes or reformers\u201d (West, 2025, p. 89). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just because Wrong Women<\/em> may not qualify as an oral history, I don\u2019t mean to detract from the diligence of West\u2019s use of archival fragments.  She draws on the Irish census data from 1861-1911, the Irish Times<\/em>, the Legion of Mary ledgers, and court records. Her archival skill is impressive, yet the \u201cvoices\u201d that West brings the read are actually textual inferences, rather than records (and certainly not recordings). To paraphrase Ritchie (2014), a historian\u2019s interpretation of a written document cannot substitute for the narrator\u2019s own telling.  West\u2019s method collapses that distinction, treating what texts that do exist as equivalent to oral presence. The result is evocative prose but unstable epistemology.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another reason Wrong Women <\/em>cannot be considered an oral history is because West (2025) strives to \u201cpromote their voices [of the women and girls of Monto]\u201d (p. 7). The intention is admirable, but the phrase reveals an ethical pitfall. To \u201cpromote\u201d implies that the historian possesses the authority to bestow voice\u2014a gesture oral historians have worked to undo. For Ritchie (2014), oral history is not necessarily the historian advocating for others but listening with them. West\u2019s method reverses that relation: she becomes the narrator of reconstructed memory.  Perkiss\u2019s 2022 Hurricane Sandy on New Jersey\u2019s Forgotten Shore<\/em> offers a counterexample. Perkiss builds her narrative around recorded interviews, foregrounding the interview process itself\u2014the awkward pauses, the contradictions, the emotions that mark trauma in real time. Through no \u201cfault\u201d of West\u2019s, a narrative of that sort is not possible for the women of Monto.  West\u2019s would-be narrators are long-since deceased; thus, her interventions cannot be checked against lived memory or consent. The result is a valiant effort to restore voice that simultaneously replaces it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why, then, does the Wrong Women <\/em>claim to draw upon oral history? The cynic in me (perhaps still under the influence of Abby Perkiss\u2019s disillusionment) thinks it\u2019s partly marketing. \u201cOral history\u201d now connotes intimacy and authenticity, qualities that publishers value in popular nonfiction. West herself may genuinely see her empathetic reconstructions as a kind of surrogate orality\u2014a way of \u201clistening across time.\u201d Yet Ritchie (2014) would warn us not to call a monologue an oral history; doing so, erases the dialogic foundation on which the field of oral history is built.  The issue is not pedantry but ethics: when a historian adopts the label of oral history, readers may mistake well-researched hypotheses for testimony.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

**From here to the next set of asterisks is more of a book review and not so much a critique of West\u2019s oral history (or lack thereof).  You can skip to the conclusion if you only want my take on why this wasn\u2019t an oral history.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wrong Women<\/em>, however, in its own right, still contributes meaningfully to feminist historiography. West dismantles the moral narratives that cast Monto\u2019s women as either<\/em> victims or<\/em> sinners. Chapter 1 highlights the economic structures that made sex work a survival strategy.  Chapter 11 situates Monto\u2019s Westmoreland Locke hospital within the continuum of coercive societal control of women (and not just the \u201cwrong women\u201d). This chapter explores how syphilis was feminized and how women working as prostitutes were blamed for being transmitters, but not the men who infected them. Though the \u201cLock\u201d in Monto was not subject to Ireland\u2019s Contagious Diseases Act (unfortunately, West never tells us why), \u201cshaming\u201d the \u201cunfortunates\u201d who sought treatment there abounded:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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To compound the harm caused by being targeted by police and detained, the women were then accused of enjoying the examination so much that they had become addicted to the speculum, reduced to being labeled as \u2018uterine hypochondriacs\u2019 who craved the exam, and this belief was spread in the pages of influential medical journals (West, 2025, p. 154).<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(A discerning reader would have appreciated a citation to or quote from one of those influential medical journals, but alas\u2026.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West also exposes the patriarchal logic that underpinned both the penal and medical systems of her period, showing how women\u2019s suffering was reframed as benevolence. When authorities deemed the institutionalization or incapacitation of women selling sex as a \u201chumane act being done to her\u201d (West, 2025, p. 150), West makes clear that such interventions were not protective but punitive, rooted in a moral hierarchy that pathologized female sexuality. Chapter 14, \u201cPolicing the Body,\u201d feels all too familiar in light of modern patterns of sexual violence and victim-blaming. West quotes the Dublin Metropolitan Police\u2019s medical officers, who claimed that when policemen contracted venereal disease, it was not their fault: they were \u201cinnocent rural young men who were not used to the vices of a big city, and finding themselves surrounded on their beats with vice and infamy, under many attractive forms, they were probably unable to restrain themselves from the influences brought to bear upon them\u201d (West, 2025, p. 189). The rationalization\u2014that men\u2019s transgressions are the inevitable result of women\u2019s temptation\u2014echoes disturbingly in contemporary defenses of sexual assault by privileged young men, such as Brock Turner, whose crimes were reframed as youthful lapses rather than acts of violence. West\u2019s historical material thus reveals the deep continuity of patriarchal narratives that excuse men and criminalize or medicalize women\u2019s bodies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 15 discusses the violence experienced by women in the sex trade \u2013 both in Monto and in modern society \u2013 and how the media alternates between voyeurism and moral panic.  This reveals the patriarchal surveillance shaping Ireland\u2019s modern identity. In these sections, West\u2019s voice is critical rather than speculative, and the book\u2019s historical argument is strongest.  \u201cThe path forward for ethical reporting lies in understanding how the stereotype of the wrong woman has survived since Monto and is still played out today across the pages and views of modern media\u201d (West, 2025, p. 217). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In its final chapters, Wrong Women<\/em> moves from exposing systemic injustice to honoring the resilience and mutual care of the women of Monto. Chapter 17, \u201cDisrupters,\u201d celebrates the informal networks of dignity, protection, and resistance that these women built for one another. West (2025) argues that reformers such as Frank Duff \u201cmay have received the accolades for being the one to end Monto, but he did so by standing on the shoulders of women\u201d (p. 235). She urges readers to \u201creflect on the loss of knowledge of the actions of those we will never know, such as the efforts from those in the trade themselves and working-class women\u201d (West, 2025, p. 235). For me, this chapter feels like the emotional heart of the book: it restores a sense of agency to women who have otherwise appeared in history as victims or statistics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West includes a particularly affecting oral recollection preserved by folklorist Terry Fagan. A man recalls that \u201cwhen my mother’s granny died in 1917, the priest refused to come and give her last rites\u2026 someone on my father’s side made a cross to go over that woman’s bed.\u2026 When she died it was loaned out to other families who had prostitutes who had a priest that wouldn’t come to.\u2026 I loaned it to Terry Fagan\u2019s Museum, and I gave him the story\u201d (West, 2025, p. 240). This story of the handmade \u201cMonto cross,\u201d passed among families denied priestly blessing, becomes a powerful emblem of community care \u2014 women and families creating their own rituals of dignity when the Church refused them any.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The Monto cross depicted on page 240 of Wrong Women<\/em>. Photo credit: Martin Coffey, in whose living room in Cabra West the cross hung after its time in Monto ended.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Throughout the chapter, West provides examples of agency and rebellion: women choosing prison over the laundries because \u201cthey knew they would never get out,\u201d refusing the uniform of the workhouse, changing their names to evade authorities, renaming the brothel district \u201cthe village,\u201d and even smuggling weapons to Irish revolutionaries. She reframes such acts not as criminality but as survival \u2014 \u201can act of survival rather than one of callous abandonment\u201d <\/em>(West, 2025, p. 250). West also bridges past and present, noting the continuation of solidarity through groups like the Sex Workers Opera, the Red Umbrella Film Festival, and the Ugly Mugs Initiative. These examples position sex workers not as passive subjects of rescue but as active agents of mutual aid and political voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is, however, a bittersweet moment at the chapter\u2019s close, when West describes a confrontation between a priest and a notorious madam during the closure of Monto: \u201cEventually the priest lost his cool with her and shouted her into submission.\u2026 Sadly, we will never know what May said to them or what exactly was so powerful about the priest\u2019s speech that took the wind out of her sails.\u2026 Duff, through his lack of note taking, ensured they are lost to history\u201d (West, 2025, p. 261). West\u2019s lament here underscores the archival silences that oral history seeks to fill \u2014 and the tragedy of record-keepers (in this case, a male record-keeper) deciding which voices survive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Chapter 18, \u201cEthical Remembrance,\u201d West turns explicitly to the question of how these women should be remembered. \u201cThe women of the Lock and Monto have shaped the course of history. But we have learned from them without acknowledging them\u201d (West, 2025, p. 265). She identifies this forgotten activism as \u201cthe beginning of organized feminism in Ireland,\u201d (p. 266) linking the women\u2019s lived struggle for bodily autonomy and survival to later campaigns for suffrage and social reform. Her proposed framework of Machnamh \u2014 \u201ca compassionate concept [in Irish]\u2026 meaning reflection, meditation, thought, and contemplation, allowing for a multitude of narratives to be heard and for remembrance to be thoughtful and ethical\u201d (p. 267) \u2014 offers a culturally rooted model of remembering that resonates deeply with oral-history ethics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West distinguishes between mere memorialization and what she calls \u201chonoring the outcast\u201d (p. 271). West (2025) writes, \u201cThe difference is the honoring, as opposed to just creating a physical space. The difference between remembering and memorializing is that in remembering we put them back together again.\u2026 We turn them into people. We remember that they are people with lives and they’re not just a massive scrabbling misery\u201d (p. 271). This distinction captures the same ethical impulse that oral historians emphasize: the act of remembrance as re-humanization, not spectacle. West concludes that \u201cethical remembrance needs to be conscious of not retraumatizing those sharing their stories\u201d (p. 275).  This recalls Abrams\u2019s (2016) trauma-informed approach to oral history practice.  West concludes with praise for folklorist Terry Fagan\u2019s recorded interviews: \u201cto hear their history, in their own words, accents and tone, is not only a democratic way to learn, but also an ethical one that centers the people themselves\u201d (West, 2025, p. 280).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Together, these final chapters point toward what Wrong Women<\/em> could have been if its oral sources had been more fully available: a true act of Machnamh, a reflective listening that dignifies the speakers rather than speaking for them. For readers trained in oral history, these chapters are both inspiring and instructive. They remind us that empowerment is not only in retelling the past, but in building the ethical frameworks that ensure every retelling honors the people whose lives make it possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

**<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wrong Women: Selling Sex in Monto, Dublin\u2019s Forgotten Red Light District<\/em> is a vivid, compassionate, and rigorously researched account of an overlooked world. Yet it is not an oral history. Its \u201cvoices\u201d are reconstructions; its evidence, archival; its empathy, authorial. To label it oral history is to mistake the presence of voice for the practice of listening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reading Wrong Women<\/em> after studying oral-history methodology changed how I interpret historical writing that claims to \u201cpromote voice.\u201d Before this course, I might have accepted West\u2019s narrative empathy as oral history by another name. Now I see the difference between writing about<\/em> silenced people and listening to<\/em> them. In Ritchie\u2019s 2014 framework, oral history redistributes authority; in Perkiss\u2019s (2022), it preserves the raw texture of experience; in Sommer and Quinlan\u2019s (2024), it documents context as carefully as content. West\u2019s book, though powerful, remains bound by the author\u2019s interpretive voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, Wrong Women<\/em> demonstrates why scholars and students are drawn to oral-history language even when true interviews are impossible. The hunger for voice\u2014for proximity to lives erased by shame or time\u2014is real. West\u2019s impulse to \u201chear\u201d these women is not wrong; it is simply not oral history. Her work inhabits what we might call a historiography of empathy<\/em>: a form that borrows oral history\u2019s moral energy but translates it into imaginative narrative. Recognizing that distinction allows us to appreciate her important research without confusing it for oral method.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West\u2019s book reminds us students of oral history that the discipline\u2019s strength lies not in eloquence but in relationship\u2014between interviewer and narrator, memory and record, consent and interpretation. West succeeds in restoring dignity to Monto\u2019s women, even if that restoration does not take oral history\u2019s collaborative form. In doing so, she leaves us with a valuable paradox: a book that makes us want to listen more carefully, even if the actual voices of Monto\u2019s women may forever be out of reach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Works Referenced<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Abrams, L. (2016). Oral history theory, second edition<\/em>. Routledge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perkiss, A. (2022) Hurricane Sandy: On New Jersey\u2019s forgotten shore<\/em>.  Cornell University Press.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ritchie, D. A. (2014). Doing oral history<\/em>. Oxford University Press.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sommer, B. & Quinlan, M.K. (2024). The oral history manual, fourth edition<\/em>. Rowman & Littlefield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West, C. (2025). Wrong women: Selling sex in Monto, Dublin\u2019s forgotten red-light district<\/em>.  Eriu Books. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Prefatory Note *Although Caroline West does not explicitly describe Wrong Women: Selling Sex in Monto, Dublin\u2019s Forgotten Red Light District as an oral history, the back cover copy states that the book \u201cdraws on oral history\u201d to tell the stories of women who lived and worked in Dublin\u2019s Monto district. My critique, therefore, proceeds from … <\/p>\n

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