One of the stock characters in English literature of the period 1685–1750 is the virgin, a figure who appears frequently enough, according to Corrinne Harol, to deserve the status of a literary obsession. The importance to society of the chaste female as a symbol was not new, certainly, since the figure had long been associated with chastity, the Virgin Mary, and the mysteries of the Catholic Church. Her value came under question in England from the Reformation through the period of religious conflict of the seventeenth century, as the English church redefined its relationship to Catholicism, the Virgin Mary, saints, relics, and miracles. Anti-Catholic propaganda focused upon corruption and sexual deviancy disguised as celibacy among the clergy, so the virgin was a controversial figure if not a sinister one. During the period under examination, 1685–1750, however, the virgin as a literary figure and thematic device came to represent altogether different ideas and associations, becoming a central point of development for English writers, including the bawdy sort who composed street ballads as well as those who engaged in more serious literary pursuits.

Harol disputes the idea, prominent among modern feminists, that patrilineal cultures have valued virginity primarily as a means of insuring that property was inherited by the legitimate offspring. She points out the flaws in this reasoning by arguing that virginity does not necessarily guarantee subsequent chastity, nor is it a reliable indicator of future fertility. Also, she argues, the preeminent social and political currents in England, including the religio-political conflicts of the late seventeenth century and the increasing attention to scientific theories, gradually transformed virginity to a symbol of virtue and control rather than patrilineal legitimacy.

Overall, however, the century's body of writings featuring virgins was the outcome of a nebulous proclivity, since the characterization of virginity varied according to context and literary theme. Starting with works by Mary Astell and Aphra Behn and including Alexander Pope's Rape of the Lock (1714), Samuel Richardson's Pamela (1740) and Clarissa (1748), as well as John Cleland's Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (1749), Harol analyzes these contextual uses exhaustively, demonstrating that virginity, itself, was not all that easy to define, detect, or defend.

Science was a sphere dominated by men, not women, so men wrote with authority about women's bodies, often basing their explanations upon traditional wisdom rather than direct observation. Altogether, Enlightenment empiricism had an uneasy relationship with virginity. Not only were the criteria for virginity inexact, since the anatomical signs were imprecise and were not outwardly visible, but clarity eluded scientific explanation, which was a problem in a climate of precise categorization. Anatomists were not even able to determine the physiological purpose of the hymen, nor did it appear that a hymen was always present in a virginal female, which was just one more example of the inferior nature of the “leaky” female body. This inability to define or quantify virginity fostered its shift as an attribute from the physical to the abstract, so that it became a theoretical quality instead of a measurable entity.

Virginity was also an uncomfortable issue during the period because of the possibility that it could be deceptive. The lewd ballads sung in the streets regularly featured women who tricked men into believing that they were chaste, and even though these duped men might be fooled successfully and live in happy ignorance, any likelihood that women could so undermine male authority was threatening in a patriarchal society. The novels Harol examines, such as Richardson's Pamela, demonstrated an increasing trend that made the virgin the guardian of her own virtue, either as an interior quality or as a gift to be awarded to the most worthy recipient. This development was a noteworthy departure from the earlier image of the virgin as the object of a man's intentions, honorable or not.

Harol's writing is not for the fainthearted reader. Many passages are dense and wordy and require more than one reading for clarity. In addition, her arguments frequently circle back upon themselves. For example, her line of reasoning against the prominence of “legitimacy” theory appears in fragments at the beginning and at the end of the book, though a more cohesive discussion would have been interesting and useful. Overall, the book raises interesting ideas, but its audience is likely to be limited to academics.