Books like Democracy in America — picked by fans

A deserved, all-time classic, this book seems to transcend time to capture the spirit of wanderlust. I was young and impressionable when I read it for the first time, and it inspired a sense of profound restlessness to explore, grow, and hit the road to see for myself. 

Neal Cassidy and Jack Kerouac are wild, occasionally unhinged protagonists, and their journey consists of hustling, romance, and drinking their way to a good time. Kerouac’s writing made me long for similar misadventures, where life is simple and finding the road is all that matters. Subversively, the novel promotes a full life and whole human experience, which makes working 9 to 5 that much more difficult.

How perfect to go on a road trip with one of my favorite writers plus his gentlemanly, loveable dog!

I smile just thinking about this book. I was delighted every step of the way. I felt like I was in the passenger seat, handing biscuits to Charley, stopping to meet strangers, and ruminating on how the USA has changed over the decades.

I loved hearing his thoughts in his older, wiser years, after his great successes, but still passionate, or slyly ironic, on so many topics. I love that he’s matter-of-fact in discussing disillusionment, loneliness, racism, or anything – but he’s hopeful in the end, always.

I want to buy a stack of these and hand them out as gifts.

This is classic literature in the realm of American travel.

I had no idea that “blue highways” existed, and even though Heat-Moon went cross-country back in the 1970s in his van equipped with his igloo cooler and makeshift bed (not like the $100k fancy campers you find today), the type of people you meet and experiences you have in this amazing country are still relevant today.

In Blue Highways Revisited, I was shocked to read how long it took for this book to get published and the stacks of printed-out drafts he had of it (I think it was like four feet high). If there are any travel writing classes taught as part of a creative writing program, then Blue Highways better be on the list. 

The oral historian and radioman Studs Turkel takes us around American without leaving his Chicago via Division Street America. Sparsely contextualized by his interstitial commentary, Turkel exercises his embracing interviewing skills to bring poignant stories of the non-celebrity class into sharp, relevant focus. This same type of unornamented approach earned a Nobel Prize in literature for Belarussian journalist Svetlana Alexievich and her Chernobyl.

This is nonfiction, a memoir by the truth-telling aide who cast her Trump-appointed lawyer aside and found one who would support her account of January 6 and all that came before and after.

What hooked me was Hutchinson's honesty. She’s in her early 20s and on a first-name basis with all the movers and shakers. She knows the former President well enough for him to suggest blonde highlights for her dark hair.

If you are at all like me, you just can't help liking her more as she fends off Matt Gaetz’s advances and rolls her eyes at interactions with Mike Lindell, the pillow guy. The book is determined and real, as is Cassidy Hutchinson herself.

Downs does a great job of explaining how democratic decision-making links voter preferences to public policy outcomes. He looks at political preferences as existing on a left-to-right continuum and concludes that democratic elections tend to select the candidates whose preferences most closely reflect the median voter—the voter whose preferences fall in the middle of that left-right continuum. He offers a few caveats, one being that because one vote has a vanishingly small chance to affect an election outcome, voters tend to be rationally ignorant on political matters. There is no payoff to becoming informed because an election outcome will be the same regardless of how any individual voter votes.

This book has become a touchstone in conversations about democratic erosion. What I found most compelling was how it uses global and historical patterns to explain how democracies can slide into authoritarianism—slowly, and often legally. It helped me connect institutional changes in the U.S. to larger global trends in democratic backsliding.

Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt argue that today’s democracies rarely collapse through sudden coups. Instead, they are gradually weakened from within by elected leaders who stretch or disregard institutional norms to expand their own power. These changes frequently occur under the appearance of legality, making democratic decay harder to detect.

Drawing on historical and global examples, the authors show how democracies slide into authoritarianism when two foundational norms begin to erode: mutual toleration (the recognition that political rivals are legitimate) and institutional forbearance (the practice of exercising restraint even when one holds legal authority). When those norms break down,… show more.

I like how Tilly's book emphasizes how democracy was often the outcome of popular protest.

Its analysis is careful enough to note that such protest could be peaceful or violent, as well as spontaneous or planned. As such, this book does not provide sweeping generalizations for the development of democratic institutions, and sometimes for their demise.

And its last chapter provides food for thought regarding democratization outside of Europe.

In the twenty-first century, the US began promoting democracy in the Middle East, either by war (as in Iraq) or through peaceful diplomacy, as in everywhere else. The problem, as this book divulges, is that transplanting American political and cultural values into the Arab world was bound to create unacceptable outcomes. Among them was the rise of Islamist movements, whose ideas seemed repugnant to many Americans. The cunning solution to this contradiction: the US should still call for elections in the region as a political goal, but leave all talk of cultural and social freedoms aside.

For seventy-five years, nearly every study on political knowledge finds that most voters are overwhelmingly ignorant of nearly anything you might reasonably think they should know to vote well.

Voters don’t know relevant statistics (even broadly), know what laws were passed, know who represents them, know what government can and can’t do, or know who is responsible for what. There are still some political scientists who, for ideological reasons deny this or deny that it’s important, but that’s like saying there are people who think the world is 6000 years old.

At any rate, Somin’s book is one of the most up-to-date and thorough summaries of all the relevant data and statistics. But it’s not just that. He also does a great job showing how many attempts to downplay ignorance—by saying that the crowd is wise even though most members of that crowd are wise—fail. Democratic ignorance matters.