Sixpence in Her Shoe: Book Review

Sixpence in Her Shoe, by Phyllis Mcginley, was a breath of fresh air. It was written in 1964 about the American housewife, by the American housewife, and for the American housewife. That description in itself sounded boring, even to me. But then I started looking at it, and who can resist a book in which the third chapter is entitled “How Not to Kill your Husband,” and starts with the line:

“Talk all you like about automatic ovens and electric dishwashers, there is nothing you can have around the house so useful as a husband.”




In an age where the term housewife is almost nonexistent and, when used, is used as a degrading term, it is refreshing to read a book where someone is upholding this role in the home as something to be proud of and just as legitimate as any other job. Mcginley presents the mother, wife, and keeper of the home as someone to be valued in society and not dishonored. As she puts it, “We who belong to that profession hold the fate of the world in our hands.”

We raise the children. We cook the meals. We feed the family. We host the dinner parties. We make life for those in our home either a heaven or a hell, and Mcginley is offering practical ways to make it heaven.

She offers good advice, humorous stories, age-old wisdom, and encouragement to the new wife struggling to keep up with her husband, children, and home. She covers everything from cooking, entertaining, shopping wisely, raising children, and decorating. Though some of the problems she raises we no longer deal with - such as hiring Help or learning how to use an electric oven - the vintage mother and housewife still had much to teach me, a young lady who someday hopes to have my own home and go against modern culture’s grain by actually staying in my home and raising a family there.

Reading the book was almost like sitting next to my grandmother and collecting the decades of wisdom she has gathered, only more condensed. If you ever find an old copy of this book: read it. It was well worth my time and I am going to keep it around until I have my own home.

It was truly a vintage jewel, and I can’t thank my great-aunt enough for passing it along to me.

"Let the wife make the husband glad to come home, and let him make her sorry to see him leave."
Martin Luther