Books like Blake; Or, The Huts of America — picked by fans

I’m a scholar of ancient history who was a locomotive engineer, a subway motorman, and union shop steward in New York City. I tried to be a good union man. It was my Monday through Saturday religion. The New York railroads—passenger, freight, yard service, docks—are a big paramilitary enterprise, a subterranean empire where on-the-job deaths are routine. When I became a scholar, Alexander the Great proved to be an appealing subject since he was a killer who kept his own casualties low. Many of the men I worked with were Black and talked about slavery time, so the Civil War turned out to be another appealing subject. 

I’m a scholar of ancient history who was a locomotive engineer, a subway motorman, and union shop steward in New York City. I tried to be a good union man. It was my Monday through Saturday religion. The New York railroads—passenger, freight, yard service, docks—are a big paramilitary enterprise, a subterranean empire where on-the-job deaths are routine. When I became a scholar, Alexander the Great proved to be an appealing subject since he was a killer who kept his own casualties low. Many of the men I worked with were Black and talked about slavery time, so the Civil War turned out to be another appealing subject. 

I’m a scholar of ancient history who was a locomotive engineer, a subway motorman, and union shop steward in New York City. I tried to be a good union man. It was my Monday through Saturday religion. The New York railroads—passenger, freight, yard service, docks—are a big paramilitary enterprise, a subterranean empire where on-the-job deaths are routine. When I became a scholar, Alexander the Great proved to be an appealing subject since he was a killer who kept his own casualties low. Many of the men I worked with were Black and talked about slavery time, so the Civil War turned out to be another appealing subject. 

I’m a scholar of ancient history who was a locomotive engineer, a subway motorman, and union shop steward in New York City. I tried to be a good union man. It was my Monday through Saturday religion. The New York railroads—passenger, freight, yard service, docks—are a big paramilitary enterprise, a subterranean empire where on-the-job deaths are routine. When I became a scholar, Alexander the Great proved to be an appealing subject since he was a killer who kept his own casualties low. Many of the men I worked with were Black and talked about slavery time, so the Civil War turned out to be another appealing subject. 

I am deeply passionate about human resilience. From Louis Zamperini's unwavering spirit in the face of war and captivity to Santiago's quiet determination against nature's harsh realities to Michael Jordan's relentless drive to overcome setbacks, these narratives resonate with me on a profound level. I'm particularly drawn to how these stories explore not just physical resilience but emotional and psychological strength as well. They serve as a powerful reminder that true victory lies not in the outcome but in the unwavering spirit we bring to life's struggles. 

Ed Cotham, is the prize-winning author of numerous books and articles on Texas Civil War history. A frequent lecturer, with appearances on television and radio, Ed has probably given more tours of Texas Civil War battlefields than anyone. Ed has written the texts for many historic markers and has served as project historian for several important shipwrecks in Texas waters.

I’m a part-time professor of English and a full-time admirer of history, fairy tales, and people who fight oppression. I’ve loved stories my whole life, and I believe that the right words can have the power to change the world. That’s certainly an important message in my debut novel, The Story That Cannot Be Told, which is set during the Romanian Revolution of 1989. I primarily write historical fiction for middle grade readers, in large part because I love researching history, but my work also often includes folklore, fairy tales, or the supernatural—and of course, there’s always an adventure on the horizon.

Over fifty years ago I joined the Peace Corps in El Salvador. I married a Salvadoran woman, and our child was born during our two-year stay on a backcountry farm in Chile. My interest in Latin America has never faded—and in my latest novel, The World Against Her Skin, which is based on my mother’s life, I give her a pair of years in the Peace Corps. But it is Cuba that remains the most fascinating of all the countries south of our border, and of course I had to write about the giant turn it took in 1959, and the men and women who spurred that revolution.

I was a history major when I left for a Havana study abroad semester in 2003, but I had not studied Cuba. My introduction was a University of Havana class on the period of the Cuban Republic, in which I sat surrounded by Cuban students. My classroom learning was aided by the public history representations all around me in the city. I was hooked. I wrote my undergraduate thesis at Yale on Cuban activist intellectuals of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and a few years later went on the begin my doctorate in Latin American History at Columbia. I have been a historian of Cuba ever since, 20 years.

My expertise and passion for the theme of children’s dreams for themselves and how they achieve them began with reading wonderful children’s picture books to my kids and grandkids when they were very young. After writing one young adult novel and four cozy mysteries for adults, I realize my true calling as a writer is to create books that little readers will not only love but return to again and again to reinforce their own dreams and sense of worth as well as awareness of others. Many picture books dwell on what elders dream for their children rather than what young ones wish for themselves.