Books like Imperial Brotherhood — picked by fans

I’ll probably still be citing this book when they drag me into professorial retirement, yelling, “Did you know that popular representations of Israel as a hypermasculine superman helped justify the U.S.-Israeli alliance, particularly after 1967?!” “Obviously,” my colleagues will yell back, “that’s only one of the reasons why we are still assigning this book, even during the great 2051 AI-Robot rebellion!”

McAlister’s Epic Encounters came out around 2001 as many Americans were wondering, “Why do they hate us?” The ones that did not grab the Qur’an (wrong era, peeps!) or rightwing polemics, grabbed this excellent history of U.S. interests in the Middle East. McAlister interprets that word, “interests,” broadly, offering a holistic account of how Americans – not just diplomats – have imagined Southwest Asia and North Africa throughout the twentieth century and into the twenty-first.

This book contains significant touchpoints, from 1950s Biblical Epics to Black Power’s connections with… show more.

“Where are the women?” So goes this 1989 classic’s opening gambit.

We think politics is the domain of men, Enloe points out, but women have long been out there doing vital and often invisible work, whether as diplomats’ wives, sex workers recruited around US army bases, farmers, or labor leaders.

Bringing this gendered labor to the forefront of international relations is Enloe’s strength. She discusses how images of women “work,” as in the Chiquita Banana ads that introduced American housewives to this unusual fruit and helped expand United Fruit’s bloody empire, but also studies women’s transnational labor organizing.

Reading this book in graduate school guaranteed I would never think of those little stickers on bananas in the same way. Like many other historians of US foreign policy, I still assign sections from Enloe regularly, particularly in my “Transnational America” class. 

What makes this book so exceptional and ground-breaking decades after its publication is embedded in the subtitle: Kristin Hoganson argues that gender politics “provoked” the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars, through which the United States acquired most of its overseas colonies.

Hoganson connects domestic and foreign policy, analyzing correspondence, political speeches, and newspaper articles. When jingoes – people we would know now call hawks – depicted Cuba as a beautiful damsel in distress or accused the war-averse president McKinley of having “no more backbone than a chocolate eclair,” they were counting on associations of manhood with militarism. Ultimately, they were successful in pushing the United States to war with Spain over Cuba and locking the country in a bloody quagmire in the Philippines.

I love this book because it never flinches from its focus on gender, intersecting with race and class. Transcending its temporal and geographic focus, it works as a… show more.

Naoko Shibusawa’s modern classic addresses a historical puzzle with huge repercussions: how did Americans go from viewing Japanese people as irredeemable enemies, to the point of justifying nuclear warfare and internment camps during World War II, to constructing them as vulnerable, willing, and dependable allies soon after Japan’s surrender?

Theories about “maturity” at the intersection of race and gender provide the answer. Despite its title, this book says little about the historical figure of the geisha – except in its use in postwar American cartoons that reimagined Japan as a compliant ward.

This monograph remains a huge inspiration for my work—I just love how deftly Shibusawa connects culture and politics. 

This book is the grandfather of the modern small-town horror story–few novels before or since have developed such a sense of creeping dread and paranoia.

Aside from being impressed with Finney’s writing, the masterful way he manages mood, and the gradual deterioration of trust (which underpins the most admirable qualities of small-town life), I can trace my lineage as a horror writer back to this novel. 

The fairest way to begin to explore the conspiracy McCarthy and his backers feared is to hear it from the Cassandra himself. Joe lays out his case in this thin volume.

I grew up in a family of all brothers and male cousins and with a second-wave feminist mother who marched with Gloria Steinem and Bella Abzug. So while my role models of feminine badassery were clear growing up, they were also few. Feeling like I was missing out, I often sought them out in my professional life and in my reading for fun. 

Lillian Hellman was as bad ass as they came. The author of a dozen plays, three memoirs, holder of six or so honorary degrees, blacklisted during McCarthyism who, to my amazement came roaring back with this book, among others to wow little me, who grow up rather ordinary in a rather ordinary midwestern college town. I was not romantically partnered with the greatest detective novelist in American history like Ms. Hellman was with Dashiel Hammett. I did stare down a hostile government trying to ruin my life… show more.

Wechsler was the editor of The New York Post, a short-lived Communist and lifelong liberal, and a favorite target of McCarthy and McCarthyism. Wechsler’s razor-edged analysis of the era is the ideal counterpoint to McCarthy’s, and offers a lens into the scare’s flesh-and-blood victims.

This was the first romance I ever read that featured a deaf character. I loved how much research the author did on the subject and how much I learned. This book broke my heart as Annie was again and again mistreated and underestimated until Alex realized that the problem was her ears, not her mind. 

I really loved Alex's character. He marries Annie because she was raped by his brother and becomes pregnant. I loved his sense of duty and honor. I loved his attempts at trying to do right by Annie even when they were misinformed. 

My favorite takeaway from this book was that no one should decide for another person what they need and the able community needs to not make assumptions but to listen to what those with disabilities say about their needs.

Many victims of the blacklist have written memoirs of their experiences, including Lester Cole, Ring Lardner, Jr., Bernard Gordon, and Walter Bernstein. But we are also fortunate to have excellent books from two articulate and talented women writers—Norma Barzman and Jean Rouverol (Refugees from Hollywood: A Journal of the Blacklist Years, 2000)—who offer emotionally nuanced accounts of the personal and professional consequences of political persecution and exile. As wives and mothers, their reminiscences inevitably have a very different centre of gravity than those of male blacklistees. Barzman is unrepentant about the progressive causes embraced by the American Communist Party while also critiquing the misogyny of many male comrades. This is a witty and insightful book by an engaging, clear-sighted, and forward-thinking survivor.