100 Books Like Adolf Hitler

This is the most compelling explanation for why major wars have started over the last half-millennium. His thesis is very simple: countries are tempted to start wars to conquer their own continents, even if there is a low prospect of success, because the payoff is tremendous.

The U.S., which is the only country to have achieved continental hegemony, pays very little for the cost of its defense because of the protection of the Oceans, and is able to project power to support smaller countries draining the resources of the regional hegemonic candidates on other continents.

This book does not explain most wars, just the ones most likely to involve all of the great powers, nuclear weapons, and to have the greatest impact in terms of the deaths of millions, post-war international institutions, and the most wide-sweeping territorial changes.   

This book is the most detailed description of the largest deception operation of the Second World War, the landings at D-Day, with a higher secrecy priority than even Ultra, the cryptanalysis effort. In general terms, it is the most satisfyingly detailed examination of any intelligence operation (at 850 pages), loaded with interviews, and should be a template for studying any operation.

It explains the contradiction of German military efficiency and arrogant incompetence, as both Hitler and the German General Staff gradually came to realize that Normandy was the likely landing spot and that their Enigma intercepts were compromised. It digresses perfectly, leaving no subject unturned, and makes associations and personality assessments only possible in a text of this size. 

John Ranelagh’s history of the CIA should be the very first book read on U.S. espionage. At 800 pages, heavily grounded in interviews, it covers the period from before the Second World War to the mid-1980s. It convincingly overturns every misconception about the CIA, including its exaggerated roles in coups, assassinations, and the Phoenix Program.

Actually, the book is a detailed sociological study of the U.S. elite, Presidential governance, and intra-agency biases. Surprisingly, with its foundation in the O.S.S. and recruits from American communists who had fought in the Spanish Civil War, the CIA is a highly professional but liberal institution, sometimes stubbornly out of alignment with the establishment, such as over Vietnam. 

This book is the most systematic examination of how leaders achieve power and exercise it, and should be the first book read by all political scientists.

The author, a professor of political science, walked across the street from Yale University into the city hall of New Haven, and proceeded to test an exhaustive list of variables in a three-century survey of the city’s Mayorship. What matters? Ethnicity, religion, race, unions, clubs, personality, family, reputation, service, experience? The answer is that the political winners are the product of complex interactions, with plenty of unexpected links and the important role of the timely exploitation of passing opportunities.

This text is the ultimate antidote to conspiracy theorists.   

This remains the outstanding full-length biography of Hitler, not least because it is brilliantly written; it is also extraordinarily prescient.

Fest’s portrayal of the Nazi leader, the first to be written by a German, shows how any human society, no matter how cultured or educated, if far enough degraded and humiliated will be willing to listen to a banal, humourless bully whose singular obsessions were to pick at Germany’s war wounds and delegate the slaughter of the blameless minority he deemed responsible.

In Fest’s hands, Hitler emerges as no freak of nature with god-like powers, no monster beyond our comprehension…but shockingly human, the living fulfillment of the racist fantasies of the ordinary, pot-bellied fascists who brought him to power.

As in the case of Joachim Fest, it is impossible to read this book without having some sense of the author’s own autobiography. Haffner was an emigré who had left Germany for Britain in 1939, was briefly interned in the war, and became a correspondent for The Observer. The essayistic reflections offered in this short book are not so much biographical as a set of attempts to place Hitler within the wider context of German history and to understand Hitler as a historical phenomenon. Readable, astute, and thoughtful, they are an engaging introduction to his life-long attempts to make sense of the regime from which he had fled.

There have been more recent accounts of Hitler’s retreat to the bunker in the last weeks of his life. But even if some new information has surfaced since Britain’s H.R. Trevor-Roper wrote his report, the vividness is hard to match. Trever-Roper recorded his thoughts on Hitler’s end before the rubble of war had been cleared away. It was almost on-the-scene reporting.

If you only have time to read one book on the Nazi leadership, it should be this one. It is not the lightest of books (and it has two volumes), but it is well worth your time. Adolf Hitler was obviously central to the Nazi dictatorship and the number of books written about him reflects that. There are lots of biographies on Hitler – even a lot of good ones – but Ian Kershaw’s two-volume life of Hitler remains unsurpassed in my view. Kershaw skillfully combines his biography of the dictator with a wider social and political history of the Nazi dictatorship, so readers learn a great deal about both the man at the top of the regime and the ways in which the Third Reich functioned.

Kershaw’s double biography of the Nazi leader (the second part, almost entirely about World War II, is called Hubris) is a classic, and remains the best, most approachable look at the unusual upbringing of a young boy from provincial Austria who once wanted to be an artist, and felt in debt with the Jewish doctor who (unsuccessfully, as it turned out) treated his mother’s cancer. Hubris is most remarkable for the glimpses it provides of a different fate for that young boy Adolf: how he was scarred by family tragedy and by failure at multicultural Vienna, and how the Great War gave him an opening to become the worst possible version of himself.

In my view, this is the most readable and persuasive of a number of new biographical treatments that have appeared recently. In terms of interpretation, largely Ullrich confirms the line offered in an older two-volume biography, the equally magisterial account by Ian Kershaw published at the turn of the century. Like Kershaw, Ullrich is concerned to explain Hitler’s power in terms of charismatic authority, and not just dictatorial terror. But whereas Kershaw was of the view that Hitler had comparatively little personal hinterland, foregrounding instead his career as a public figure, Ullrich pulls out a remarkable range of often tiny, seemingly insignificant personal details or anecdotes to generate a compelling view of Hitler’s own interior landscape – it is all the more impressive for the fact that he uses this to explain better Hitler’s political outlook and actions.