THIS book made me, by turn, wince, squirm, smile wryly, and gasp in surprise and in horror. It is not for the fainthearted. King has produced a comprehensive and detailed historical account of the way in which four different parts of women’s bodies — breasts, clitoris, hymen, and womb — have been viewed, interpreted, and treated, by society, medicine, and the Church, and mainly by men. She reaches back into classical times and around the globe to other than Western civilisations.

Their stories turn out to be complex: binary definitions are entirely elusive. King observes that the transgender debates are not new, but “draw our attention back to how sex and gender identity have never really been clear” .

For example, the breast is both maternal and erotic and, it turns out, medical: women have breastfed the (adult male) sick to heal them, as well as to feed them. Children have been suckled not just by their own birth mothers but also by goats and donkeys, often directly from the teat of the animal. Puppies have been suckled by women to deal with an excess of milk. Some men’s breasts have produced milk.

The clitoris, found a lot longer ago than the 20th century, but lost again, was understood as being “for joy”, but at other times to be a necessary part of procreation, needing to be stimulated for the woman to conceive during intercourse. It has been regarded as a female penis.

The hymen held enormous power, as it was the gateway to a woman’s body, and its presence proof of a woman’s “virtue” and exclusivity. Virginity was a growing obsession from the 17th century. Was this related to the growing practice of enclosing land, seeking to control its use? Intercourse with a virgin was superior, but also healing: remember those horrific stories of men raping young girls, even babies, to cure themselves of AIDS? But it is not even clear that the hymen exists.

Women have been seen as merely bodies encasing wombs: our primary purpose. Plato famously suggested the womb wandered around a woman’s body, causing trouble, and his view has been pervasive and lasting. Treatments included placing noxious-smelling substances where the womb was thought to have moved to, and sweet-smelling ones to entice it to return to its rightful place. At times, wombs were thought to have agency: like magnets drawing the seed to themselves, desiring pregnancy.

King questions the identification of women with their bodies, but concludes “whether or not we agree that our bodies are our ‘selves’, they are our bodies, and knowing their past is the key to understanding our present.”

I have offered only a glimpse into the impressive research that King has undertaken. She has provided a great service in telling so many histories of the breasts, clitoris, hymen, and womb. The book is a dense read, and I wanted to hear more of what King made of all that she has uncovered. How does she understand their present, having learned so much of their past?

Dr Claire Gilbert is the author of I, Julian: The fictional autobiography of Julian of Norwich, now out in paperback (Hodder & Stoughton, £9.99 (£8.99); 978-1-3998-0754-8) (Books, 6 April 2023).

Immaculate Forms: Uncovering the history of women’s bodies
Helen King
Wellcome Collection £25
(978-1-78816-387-3)
Church Times Bookshop £20