Here are 32 books that African Trilogy fans have personally recommended once you finish the African Trilogy series.
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Fiction has a way of capturing people, places, and phenomena that often elude source-bound historians. As I say in my book, you feel the weight of all the terrible things Colonel Kurtz has done in central Africa far more by his whispering “the horror, the horror” than I, as a historian, could possibly convey by listing them out and analyzing them. That feel–especially what contingency feels like–is something historians should seek out and try to pull into their craft of writing. Getting used to and using fiction to help historians see and feel the past is a worthwhile endeavor.
Another Melville and another unusual one. Melville died broke and mostly forgotten. Lewis Mumford, a now mostly forgotten literary critic, is largely responsible for resuscitating Melville’s reputation in the early 20th century.
Sachs, an environmental historian who can really write, has penned a very unconventional, twinned biography of Melville and Mumford–the chapters go from one to the other, a style that takes some getting used to–that explores what it was about Melville’s dark vision of human nature, climate change, and capitalism that spoke to Mumford, and what it has to say to us.
Finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award in Biography
A double portrait of two of America's most influential writers that reveals the surprising connections between them-and their uncanny relevance to our age of crisis
Up from the Depths tells the interconnected stories of two of the most important writers in American history-the novelist and poet Herman Melville (1819-1891) and one of his earliest biographers, the literary critic and historian Lewis Mumford (1895-1990). Deftly cutting back and forth between the writers, Aaron Sachs reveals the surprising resonances between their lives, work, and troubled times-and their uncanny relevance in our own…
Fiction has a way of capturing people, places, and phenomena that often elude source-bound historians. As I say in my book, you feel the weight of all the terrible things Colonel Kurtz has done in central Africa far more by his whispering “the horror, the horror” than I, as a historian, could possibly convey by listing them out and analyzing them. That feel–especially what contingency feels like–is something historians should seek out and try to pull into their craft of writing. Getting used to and using fiction to help historians see and feel the past is a worthwhile endeavor.
The American Civil War is everywhere, yet nowhere in William Faulkner’s fiction. This book explores the history of Yoknapatawpha County and the fiction of William Faulkner’s Civil War. It is a fascinating exploration of historical memory, race-making, narrative construction, and the South during and after Sherman.
Like The Dawn Watch, I especially loved it because it was neither a history book nor a work of literary analysis. If you have read Faulkner, this is an essential book that helps you understand how all of this is really about the Civil War, even though you’ll find very little gunfire in those pages. The pain is nowhere because it is everywhere.
Michael Gorra asks provocative questions in this historic portrait of William Faulkner and his world. He explores whether William Faulkner should still be read in this new century and asks what his works tell us about the legacy of slavery and the American Civil War, the central quarrel in America's history.
Born in 1897 in Mississippi, Faulkner wrote such iconic novels as Absalom, Absalom! and The Sound and the Fury, creating in Yoknapatawpha County the richest gallery of characters in American fiction, his achievements culminating in the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature. But given his works' echo of "Lost Cause"…
Fiction has a way of capturing people, places, and phenomena that often elude source-bound historians. As I say in my book, you feel the weight of all the terrible things Colonel Kurtz has done in central Africa far more by his whispering “the horror, the horror” than I, as a historian, could possibly convey by listing them out and analyzing them. That feel–especially what contingency feels like–is something historians should seek out and try to pull into their craft of writing. Getting used to and using fiction to help historians see and feel the past is a worthwhile endeavor.
I am not the only one struck by Conrad’s depiction of imperial encounter at the dawn of the 20th century. This book contextualizes the real people and places that Conrad adapted for his fiction writing. Jasanoff, a historian, traveled the globe on a container ship for months to try to understand this fascination with maritime travel, far-flung places, and how imperialism and modern capitalism shaped our world.
It is an unusual book (a great thing!) and a meditation on the origins of the contemporary world.
CUNDILL PRIZE 2018 WINNER
SHORTLISTED FOR THE JAMES TAIT BLACK BIOGRAPHY PRIZE 2018
'Enlightening, compassionate, superb' John le Carre
A visionary life and times of Joseph Conrad, and of our global world, from one of the best historians writing today.
Migration, terrorism, the tensions between global capitalism and nationalism, the promise and peril of a technological and communications revolution: these forces shaped the life and work of Joseph Conrad at the dawn of the twentieth century. In this brilliant new interpretation of one of the great voices in modern literature, Maya Jasanoff reveals Conrad as a prophet of globalization as…
I am an avid reader of fantasy novels and a Nigerian. Born and raised in southern Nigeria, I grew up during a time when Nigerian culture closely resembled that of a century ago. Since the 1980s, my country has undergone significant cultural changes, and I am drawn to stories that remind me of a simpler time, before I started adulting. I am also deeply fascinated with history. I have delved into anthropological articles and textbooks dating back to the eighteenth century to gain a better understanding of my heritage and people. These readings have greatly influenced my own writing, allowing me to paint the vivid historical pictures that captivate me.
Set in precolonial Hausaland, this novel tells the gripping tale of a man on a relentless quest for revenge. The story resonated with me for several reasons, not the least of which was its pre-colonial setting that offered a glimpse into the past.
Ekwensi’s straightforward prose weaves a vibrant tapestry that is rich with cultural details. His portrayal of bravery, determination, and an unwavering sense of justice captivated me from the outset. Reflecting the oral traditions characteristic of Ekwensi’s writing style, the novel imparts social commentary and moral lessons in a manner that I found both entertaining and thought-provoking.
The Passport of Mallam Ilia is a love story tinged with a vengeance mission. On his quest to avenge the death of his wife, Zarah, the hero, Mallam Ilia, misses out on his entire youth.
I am an avid reader of fantasy novels and a Nigerian. Born and raised in southern Nigeria, I grew up during a time when Nigerian culture closely resembled that of a century ago. Since the 1980s, my country has undergone significant cultural changes, and I am drawn to stories that remind me of a simpler time, before I started adulting. I am also deeply fascinated with history. I have delved into anthropological articles and textbooks dating back to the eighteenth century to gain a better understanding of my heritage and people. These readings have greatly influenced my own writing, allowing me to paint the vivid historical pictures that captivate me.
Released in 2021, God of Mercy satisfied my need for history and fantasy with an authentic portrayal of Igbo traditions, language, and spirituality. This dark tale follows Ijeoma, a girl blessed with the ability to fly, and delves into the complexities of faith, community, and the clash between traditional religions, ancient customs, colonial encroachment, and modern ideas.
Nwoka's beautiful prose and intricate storytelling immersed me in a world where the supernatural smoothly integrates with everyday life. The novel’s depiction of a small village struggling to preserve its cultural heritage in the face of external pressures struck a chord with me as I grew up at a time when traditional religions were still contending with colonial religions in my country’s native villages.
This novel offered me a profoundly enriching reading experience that honored the past while stimulating the imagination. Trigger warning: child abuse and torture.
"Nwoka's debut feels like a dream, or a fable, or something in between . . . Recommended for fans of Nnedi Okorafor's Remote Control or Nghi Vo's The Empress of Salt and Fortune." -Ashley Rayner, Booklist
"[God of Mercy] owes a debt to Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, revising that novel's message for the recent past . . . A well-turned dramatization of spiritual and social culture clashes." -Kirkus Reviews
Homegoing meets Black Leopard, Red Wolf, Okezie Nwoka's debut novel is a powerful reimagining of a history erased.
God of Mercy is set in Ichulu, an Igbo village where the…
I began my career as a journalist, including working as a reporter on an international newspaper. I left full-time journalism to write fiction where I can combine an interest in international affairs with stories of characters and issues of the heart which drive individuals and often shape events. Over the years I’ve worked and traveled with international organizations, serving as Vice President of PEN International, and on the boards and in other roles focusing on human rights, education, and refugees. I’ve been able to travel widely and witness events up close, walking along the edge of worlds and discovering the bonds that keep us from falling off.
This book revealed a threat new to me and to many readers in a culture where mothers had to hide their daughters in shallow graves in Guerrero, Mexico, adjacent to the drug cartels in order to avoid their abduction. They often masqueraded their daughters as boys or tried to make them ugly by chopping off their hair and blackening their teeth.
I was riveted by the story of Ladydi and her friends as they sought a larger world and future they instinctively knew existed. They supported each other but were constantly at risk and challenged by the dangerous drug culture and misogynistic environment they were born into.
Prayers for the Stolen is filled with vignettes and images that stayed with me, written in Jennifer’s poetic prose—she is also a poet. With imagination, narrative drive, and suspense, it explores the struggle and limited triumph of some of the women and reflects…
'Now we make you ugly,' my mother said. 'The best thing you can be in Mexico is an ugly girl.'
The Narcos only had to hear there was a pretty girl around and they'd sweep onto our lands in black SUVs and carry the girl off. Not one of the stolen girls had ever come back, except for Paula.
She came back a year after she'd been kidnapped. She held a baby bottle in one hand. She wore seven earrings that climbed the cupped edge of her left ear in a line of blue, yellow and green studs and a…
I am an avid reader of fantasy novels and a Nigerian. Born and raised in southern Nigeria, I grew up during a time when Nigerian culture closely resembled that of a century ago. Since the 1980s, my country has undergone significant cultural changes, and I am drawn to stories that remind me of a simpler time, before I started adulting. I am also deeply fascinated with history. I have delved into anthropological articles and textbooks dating back to the eighteenth century to gain a better understanding of my heritage and people. These readings have greatly influenced my own writing, allowing me to paint the vivid historical pictures that captivate me.
Unimpressed by Amos Tutuola’s debut novel, I approached My Life in the Bush of Ghosts with caution. However, I’m glad I took the leap. Tutuola’s vivid descriptions of supernatural entities from Yoruba tradition appealed to both the avid fantasy reader and the cultural historian in me.
The narrative of a young boy’s journey through a mystical forest paints an uncluttered picture of postcolonial Nigerian life. Despite my preference for complex prose, this simple storytelling evokes memories of time spent in my ancestral village, listening to tales told by the elders. Tutuola’s writing style, influenced by oral tradition, captivated my imagination, taking me on a uniquely Nigerian adventure.
My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, Amos Tutuola's second novel, was first published in 1954. It tells the tale of a small boy who wanders into the heart of a fantastical African forest, the dwelling place of innumerable wild, grotesque and terrifying beings. He is captured by ghosts, buried alive and wrapped up in spider webs, but after several years he marries and accepts his new existence. With the appearance of the television-handed ghostess, however, comes a possible route of escape.
'Tutuola ... has the immediate intuition of a creative artist working by spell and incantation.' V. S. Pritchett,…
Fiction has a way of capturing people, places, and phenomena that often elude source-bound historians. As I say in my book, you feel the weight of all the terrible things Colonel Kurtz has done in central Africa far more by his whispering “the horror, the horror” than I, as a historian, could possibly convey by listing them out and analyzing them. That feel–especially what contingency feels like–is something historians should seek out and try to pull into their craft of writing. Getting used to and using fiction to help historians see and feel the past is a worthwhile endeavor.
Do you know how many gallons of blood are in a mature seal? That’s one of the many things you’ll find out in this gripping book about the true story that lies behind Herman Melville’s iconic short story, Benito Cereno.
It was the South Pacific in 1805, and a sealing vessel came upon a ship that they discovered was the result of an onboard slave insurrection. What happened, including the gushing of copious amounts of warm seal blood, is for you to discover. This is an amazing piece of history writing.
One morning in 1805, off a remote island in the South Pacific, Captain Amasa Delano, a New England seal hunter, climbed aboard a distressed Spanish ship carrying scores of West Africans he thought were slaves. They weren't. Having earlier seized control of the vessel and slaughtered most of the crew, they were staging an elaborate ruse, acting as if they were humble servants. When Delano, an idealistic, anti-slavery republican, finally realized the deception, he responded with explosive violence. Drawing on research on four continents, The Empire of Necessity explores the multiple forces that culminated in this extraordinary event-an event that…
I began my career as a journalist, including working as a reporter on an international newspaper. I left full-time journalism to write fiction where I can combine an interest in international affairs with stories of characters and issues of the heart which drive individuals and often shape events. Over the years I’ve worked and traveled with international organizations, serving as Vice President of PEN International, and on the boards and in other roles focusing on human rights, education, and refugees. I’ve been able to travel widely and witness events up close, walking along the edge of worlds and discovering the bonds that keep us from falling off.
This story is set in Sudan among rebel leaders in a war-torn country with hardened guerillas, idealistic aid workers, evangelical young women, and a pilot responsible for bringing aid and people in and out of the area. I was quickly drawn into this complex world through the varied voices and life experiences of the characters, especially as an unlikely and tragic romance emerges.
History, politics, and the human heart are all in play. As a reader I struggled along with the characters as the narrative took on fraught moments of international intrigue and probed the hearts and emotions of the characters, suggesting that in the end, politics is an extension of the human heart in conflict, often in conflict with itself.
Philip Caputo’s tragic and epically ambitious new novel is set in Sudan, where war is a permanent condition. Into this desolate theater come aid workers, missionaries, and mercenaries of conscience whose courage and idealism sometimes coexist with treacherous moral blindness. There’s the entrepreneurial American pilot who goes from flying food and medicine to smuggling arms, the Kenyan aid worker who can’t help seeing the tawdry underside of his enterprise, and the evangelical Christian who comes to Sudan to redeem slaves and falls in love with a charismatic rebel commander.
As their fates intersect and our understanding of their characters deepens,…
I teach and write about literature and disability at the University of Virginia. I’m also late deafened and have worked in the field of disability studies for over twenty years. In 2002, a scholar pointed out that literature from the former British colonies includes a lot of disabled characters. In 2006, the United Nations adopted the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. I began to wonder if the two are related. In Elusive Kinship, I wound up arguing that they are. Not much work has been done on this. I tried to emphasize that I’m just advancing a critical conversation, not giving the final word at all.
This collection of academic essays gives an incisive overview of the newly emergent field of literature and human rights, which I build upon in my book. Contributors include pioneering scholars like James Dawes, Elizabeth Swanson, and Alexandra S. Moore. They have chapters exploring the relationship between literature and rights, the role of emotions in the process, and more. The collection does not consider disability much, but is a good introduction for someone who wants to learn more about an exciting academic field.
Literature has been essential to shaping the notions of human personhood, good life, moral responsibility, and forms of freedom that have been central to human rights law, discourse, and politics. The literary study of human rights has also recently generated innovative and timely perspectives on the history, meaning, and scope of human rights. The Cambridge Companion to Human Rights and Literature introduces this new and exciting field of study in the humanities. It explores the historical and institutional contexts, theoretical concepts, genres, and methods that literature and human rights share. Equally accessible to beginners in the field and more advanced…
