Book Review

The Floating Brothel is a useful contribution in the exploration of female convict origins. Its strength lies in contextualising a group of London women within the broader context of life in the metropolis at the end of the eighteenth century. As the title suggests, prostitution is a focus for the story and one not solely confined to the voyage. Prostitution looms as an economic option for young women in England, especially when men pushed women out of jobs as soldiers returned following the end of the American War of Independence. Rees quotes Lord Surrey who advocated taxing those 'who trespassed on the natural employment of women, such as menmilliners, haberdashers, staymakers &co, &co.' (p. 7) The struggle of day to day life is explored, from finding a bed to rent for the night and its relative cost, to the crimes committed by the various women assembled for transportation. The bulk of the book follows the women on their journey, making useful observations about selection for exile, why women were wanted in the colony, about relations between women, between women and men, and the minutiae of the long voyage out. This is where the book makes its real contribution, in describing daily life. Records from the British end are thoroughly explored, and the book is well written and well worth reading.	1
To readers familiar with the Australian literature on this topic, there is much about this book that is perplexing. It was a peculiar decision to refer to this well-known ship as the Lady Julian rather than by its correct feminine title. This rather grating idiosyncrasy is perhaps symptomatic of the book's failure to engage with the existing historiography and state of knowledge about this topic. While Rees is cognisant of some of the important literature on British crime and economy, she seems unaware of the place occupied in Australia by this particular, iconic voyage. It was Lt Ralph Clark's observation on this vessel's human cargo that gave rise to the title of Anne Summer's pivotal study, Damned Whores and God's Police. Much ink has been spilt already over the prostitution of convict women, a theme which has dominated debates. But these issues, and the works in which they are voiced, do not form part of the intellectual framework of this book. One of the most startling omissions is John Cobley's book, The Crimes of the Lady Juliana Convicts (National Library). Works by Portia Robinson, and in particular, Babette Smith's A Cargo of Women which similarly documents a voyage of women convicts, are also missing. In fact, the bulk of relevant literature is missing. The problem is not that the bibliography is thin; it is that the opportunity to learn and move on from these works was not taken.	2
This is not an academic history of convict women, but not all books have to be. If it is judged by other standards—is it a good read? Does it tell us something about the experience of journeying to Australia as a transported felon?—then the book scores well. It takes the reader into the lives of these women and their shipmates, and its emphasis on London life and the journey is a useful counterbalance to a subject area which tends to concentrate on the Australian end. Like The Fatal Shore, it will be particularly engaging to the general reader not already familiar with the key texts on the topic.	3
University of New South Wales DEBORAH OXLEY

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