Books like Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley

I devoured this book—startling insights and descriptions of pre-Columbian societies.

I study this stuff, and there were many, many things I’ve never heard of, mostly in Central and South America. Like? Like that two of the original cradles of civilization (i.e., Mesopotamia, Egypt, China) were in Mexico and Peru. Huge cities in the Amazon.

We still know far too little about the people that were here before Columbus, their civilizations, engineering, language, and writing. What’s now the U.S. was no wilderness: the forests were managed, the rivers were managed, the prairie was managed. The Americas were heavily settled. They terraformed both continents.

First of all, I love that name. What the Fowke (a pseudonym)!

But mostly, this book opened a window for me and showed me how big, how dramatic, and how many ancient sites there were in Missouri. Everywhere! I was amazed to find so many in the county in which I live, Boone.

But, again, what makes this book sad is that most of these sites are gone, looted, bulldozed over, pilfered, vanished. Yes, deliberately. We clearly had no respect for the ancients. And we still don’t. A site in Fenton was recently destroyed for a Walmart.

Will the civilization after us destroy all our monuments? Hate to say this, but I hope so. Our hubris decrees it. 

Can I say I love the pictures most of all? I love the pictures. And maps. But 50? Why not 100! 200! (I know why: 50 is a nice round, familiar, patriotic number)

What I loved about this book was that it paid so much attention to Midwestern sites I can, and have, explored – Adena, Hopewell, Mississippian – and many places still on my list. It doesn’t dwell on the cliff dwellings and cities in stone in the west, what most people think of when they think of Indian towns.

And I love that it includes petroglyph and pictographic sites in the West, only a few of which I have visited. So this book is a joy and a torture: all these places I have yet to see! 

I love Chapman.

He might not be the godfather of Missouri archaeology, but he sure was the dean. This was his whole life! This book is by far the most concise, encyclopedic book of ancient Missouri, written in clear language, with great maps by his wife and research partner Eleanor Chapman.

You don’t have to have 14 PhDs and a language translator to read him. He’s an amateur’s dream, and I am very much an amateur! It's impossible to write about ancient Missouri without Chapman; he’s really indispensable, and I lean very heavily on these books, not just as a guide to what was there, but how to think about it, too.

He’s not mystical or magical, like too many American archeologists today. He just reports what he sees as the facts, ma'am. What I found tragic, though, is that a lot of the sites he covers have been deliberately… show more.

This is another classic, chock full of archaeological descriptions, along with prints of early mounds and artifacts. It’s prime source material, with first-person accounts of those who first discovered and excavated the mounds. Originally published by the Smithsonian Institution in 1848 it remains an important reference on the mounds, a veritable time capsule of maps, illustrations, and accounts of early explorers.

Traveling down the length of the river, Harris describes his journey less as an external vacation and more as a process of getting to know himself better and better. Harris, from St. Louis, had little to no canoeing experience, but as he gains confidence, he comes to believe he is capable of almost anything.

He also begins to understand what it means to be a Black American on the historic river, but it becomes clear that “people will see I’m Black only moments after they see my canoe is green.” He travels “from where there ain’t no Black folks to where they don’t like us much.” Pair with James, by Percival Everett. Based on Huck Finn, it stays close to the original, yet tells Jim/James's side and takes more seriously his quest for freedom and to reunite with his family.

Gwendolyn Hall’s Africans in Colonial Louisiana is still a foundational text when it comes to studying African people in the colonial lower Mississippi Valley. Her deep knowledge of the archives and skill in bringing the stories of enslaved Africans to live make this a wonderfully informative book. She draws deep connections between the places that Africans left and their forced new homes in Louisiana, while placing a special emphasis on how that culture turned into an African creole culture in the lower Mississippi Valley.

When Lauren Cook and I published They Fought Like Demons, we knew that our book, although groundbreaking, was only the tip of the iceberg in the story of women soldiers in the Civil War, and we always hoped that another scholar would pick up the torch and move the story forward. Shelby Harriel has done just that.  Behind the Rifle is a meticulously researched and ably written account of the distaff soldiers who hailed from Mississippi, or found themselves there. Citing previously unknown sources along with revealing newly-located photographs, Harriel’s contribution to the history of women soldiers is remarkable.

I hesitate to describe The Trees — in fact, I recommend you avoid reading any reviews, or even the back cover, because the book is so full of surprises that it would be a sin to spoil any of them. I’ll only say that of all the recent books dealing with the intractable shame of racial struggles, this is my favorite, hands-down. Prepare yourself to be alternately sick with laughter or sick with horror — which is exactly the experience of the protagonists, and of their real-life compatriots. Afterward, like me, you’ll want to read everything else Percival Everett has written.

Perhaps the most powerful story surrounding The Bitterweed Path concerns the creation of the novel itself. This tale of cross-class, same-sex love set in late 19th century rural Mississippi – a place and time so well evoked you can feel the heat – was originally published in 1950(!). They say historical novels reflect the time in which they’re written at least as much as the time in which they’re set, and there’s a distinct obliqueness to the writing here. That does not detract from the astonishing eroticism of main character Darrell’s first glance at Roger, the boy he will fall in love with (and vice versa). Nor does it diminish the radical shift, in more than one sense of the term, when Roger’s father also emerges as a mutual love interest for Darrell.