100 Books Like Mathew Brady

We’re taught in school that the Civil War began in 1861, with the firing on Fort Sumter in South Carolina. Technically, that’s true. Yet the nation had long been debating about slavery, whether to let it flourish or to outlaw it. When Congress passed the Fugitive Slave Act in 1850, major stops on the Underground Railroad, like the Cataract House Hotel in Niagara Falls, became very important.

In the shadow of the famous tourist stop, it was located alongside the last river to cross before escaped slaves could reach freedom. Against this backdrop of beauty, the wait staff at the Cataract House stepped to the forefront, opposing local authorities and bounty hunters. Their courage was unmatched, and they remain unsung heroes from this tumultuous time in our nation’s history.   

Since I plowed my way through this rollicking 800-page epic, I have eagerly recommended it to others. It ranks as one of a select few long books that never bogged down and left me with a twinge of sadness that it did not just keep going.

When the curtain finally fell (as I knew it would, upon Confederate collapse in 1865), I had been enthralled by dozens of expertly drawn characters and episodes. Some of the ministers, soldiers, and publicists appear once or twice; others provide a narrative spine that charts developments across the entire struggle.

Collectively, this dramatis personae restores the drama to what less gifted story-tellers than Foreman have termed “Anglo-American relations” in the battle for and against the Confederate rebellion.

Before the Civil War broke out, tens of thousands of freedom seekers fled enslavement in the South, trying to reach British Canada. Only there could they be truly free, and even today, Canadians pride themselves on being on the “good side” of the Civil War. But the real story is much more complicated.

Some Canadian businessmen, politicians, and financiers supported the Confederacy. Montreal became a hub for rebel spies and mercenaries. In fact, when John Wilkes Booth was apprehended after assassinating Abraham Lincoln, a banknote from a branch in Montreal was found on his person.

The New York Times proclaimed many of those involved in the plot to kill the president had been “harbored in Canada.”  

After disguising herself as a man, Ash Thompson dons the uniform of a Union soldier in the Civil War. She is an enthralling character and not only did I avidly follow Ash to the front lines, this fine novel gave me the courage to move ahead with my work.

I decided my major character, Rory Chase, would be a woman caught up in the intrigue and espionage along our border with British Canada in 1864. Time and again, I said to myself, if Hunt can pull this off with his heroine, I believe I can do the same with Rory.

That I, too, can write about a woman who must learn the rules of warfare and espionage and then decide when to break them. 

As a kid, I wanted to be Lauren Bacall when I grew up. I watched To Have and Have Not almost weekly, emulating her sultry moves as “Slim” and wishing that I too could one day undermine the Nazis in a little black dress.  

I don’t regret my choice of teenage role model, but I do wish I had known about Lee Miller back then, who would have offered a real-life example of a femme fatale fighting for good with her talents. However, rather than grit and charm, Miller used her camera to expose the true cost of fascism. 

Carolyn Burke's biography takes us on an extraordinary journey through Miller’s life—from her days as a model to her work as a war correspondent. Miller had an uncanny ability to connect with the subjects of her photographs, creating a bridge between their world and ours.

During World War II, Miller’s work… show more.

This book is key to learning how to make the most of the camera-and-lens combination that is the photographer’s toolset and “paintbrush.”

Bryan Petersen explains the key concepts of photographic exposure in a way that is simple and unforgettable. This book also opens the portals to an experimental and open-ended approach to taking the most advantage of the creative potential that can be achieved when one works with exposure.

I’ve always loved the portraits the photographer Félix Nadar made of nineteenth-century Parisian celebrities such as Victor Hugo and Charles Baudelaire.

I went to this book—Nadar’s memoir—to learn more about the making of those pictures. There is a little bit of that, but what really gripped me was the weird and wonderful shaggy dog stories Nadar tells about his adventures in ‘aerostatic photography’—taking pictures from balloons.

Spoiler alert: there is a lot of crashing.

Mention the name ‘Lewis Carroll’ and most people will immediately think of the two Alice books. Very few would equate the name to Charles Dodgson, the photographer. This, however, is the aspect of the multi-talented Oxford don which Gernsheim, a professional photographer himself, appraised in his 1949 first edition for the very first time, concluding that Dodgson was ‘the most outstanding photographer of children in the nineteenth century. Many of the black and white plates substantiate this claim, but equally, Dodgson’s mastery of this new invention enabled him to meet and photograph (sometimes uniquely) numerous famous writers and artists, as well as many Oxford contemporaries. As an aside, Edward Wakeling’s 2015 Catalogue Raisonné is a comprehensive listing of every one of Dodgson’s hundreds of known photographs.

The late Alan Trachtenberg (he died in 2020) did more than any other scholar or critic to further our understanding of photographs as cultural documents. This book – probing, detailed yet precise, and endlessly interesting – is his masterpiece. The chapters devoted to Civil War photographs and to American Photographs (1938), the extraordinary photobook produced by artist Walker Evans, are especially powerful. There is a sense in which the books I commend by other authors here – including my own The Grass Shall Grow (2020) -- would not be possible without Trachtenberg’s example.

Miller was one of the great combat photographers of WWII, but she also documented the social consequences of the conflict, particularly the lives of women on the European front. She would also write about what she saw for British Vogue. She photographed Martha Gellhorn in London in 1943 as part of a series about women correspondents. 

In addition to an introduction by Miller’s son, Antony Penrose, Roberts provides insightful commentary that places each image within the context of women’s roles throughout the landscape of war.