100 Books Like Moral Minorities and the Making of American Democracy

You wouldn’t think anyone could unearth something new about New York City. But that’s what Carla Peterson did with this book. I first came across it while researching my own work. By focusing on her own family history, Peterson flipped the wagon on the perception that NYC’s African American population was mostly enslaved laborers. 

Reading this, I discovered an elite class of black entrepreneurs who worked tirelessly to end slavery in the state and gain the civil rights all other New Yorkers enjoyed. Thoroughly researched, the book reads with the ebbs and flows of a novel. Anyone writing future screenplays, novels, or streaming series about old New York must face Peterson’s stereotype-busting work. 

What I found most rewarding about this book by Wilma King is the way she widened the research net to include the ways women communicated with each other through diaries, letters, and various church records. This makes sense and creates tremendous value because newspaper reporters of this period weren’t knocking on the doors of Maria Stewart or other black female leaders for their opinions.

Thanks to King's diligent work, I got a much better sense of the important role these underrepresented women played in the antislavery and early civil rights movement.

Watching reenactors wearing tricorne hats and stockings, I never associated the American Revolution with war atrocities until I read this book. What’s worse is it happened in my own backyard. After the British landed and routed Washington’s fledging army, they occupied Manhattan. 

Their biggest problem was prisoners of war. They were housed in twenty-something “hulked” ships with cannon and sails removed in Wallabout Bay off Brooklyn. Watson focuses on the most infamous of these floating prisons, the HMS Jersey.

His vivid descriptions of the thousand or so men and boys shackled there make for claustrophobic reading. After the war, the Bill of Rights was issued in response to our treatment by the British. The HMS Jersey was sunk–a ghostly reminder of our past.

I found this book while researching my own history book. I purchased a used copy complete with the underlined text and notes of other people that I always find interesting. It’s an old book, first published more than fifty years ago. I see it as the perfect companion piece to King’s book. 

Here, late author/editor Dorothy Sterling (quite an agitator herself) includes African American leaders' letters, speeches, songs, and news articles. Sterling covers heavyweights such as Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, and Henry Highland Garnet, along with overlooked figures Ira Aldridge (Shakespearean actor), poet Phillis Wheatley, merchant Paul Cuffe, and opera singer Elizabeth Greenfield, the Black Swan. Reading Speak Out expanded my knowledge of the breadth and scope of the early Civil Rights Movement.

It was a toss-up here between this book and The Scar, set in a different part of the same world. One of Miéville’s acknowledged influences is the wonderful Mervyn Peake, and like Peake, he’s never in a hurry to get a story underway.

I’d have probably tossed Perdido Street Station aside after 100-200 pages except for a friend’s fervent recommendation—and I’d have missed out big time if I had! Because the story as it develops is truly grand, truly epic. Like Peake, Miéville has a gift for raising action to a mythical status. I love, love, love a novel that builds up to a long, rolling, thunderous climax!

This book hit me like a thunderclap as an early-career faculty member studying Plato. Ober trained a sociological lens on Greek philosophers, showing how the democratic constitution of ancient Athens was the backdrop against which many of them were reacting and responding in very different ways.

The book charts the difference between criticism that is constructively offered by those who identify with a given constitutional type and criticism that is far-reaching in rejecting the existing terms of constitutional debate.

I love how this contrast illuminates political debate today. 

One of those rare pieces of political writing that outlive their moment of birth to become classics, Havel’s grippingly written essay invites us to rethink the meaning of power. The radical idea is that the powerful are never as powerful as they, or we, might imagine.

Since within any institution or political order, the lines of organized power pass like low-current electricity through all its subjects, the downtrodden always have within themselves the power to short-circuit the system and to remedy their own powerlessness by refusing the power of rulers bent on running and ruining their everyday lives. 

For me, the most interesting aspect of this autobiography is its honesty. I already knew a lot about Sakharov when I read this book. I learned about Sakharov’s development that he was initially a devoted team member providing the most lethal weapons to a dictatorship, and how he evolved and eventually became a most fearless and forceful human rights advocate in a ruthless dictatorship—in the post-Stalin Soviet era.

I learned how he had opposed the Soviet leader Khrushchev and how he then became enemy No. 1 of the regime under Brezhnev. I found it also instructive how Gorbachev continued playing the role of his predecessors and how he found a formidable opponent in Sakharov. All this I find sadly relevant when I look at today’s Russia and its dictator.

Because of the enormous odds stacked against each movement of this sort, the story of every nonviolent leader has an unlikely element to it. But Vaclav Havel’s biography may be the most unlikely of all. A playwright, an intellectual, and, in his own words, a “bundle of nerves,” Havel nevertheless found himself leader of Czechoslovakia’s astonishing nonviolent Velvet Revolution in 1989, and soon after became the country’s first president following the fall of communism. A very human embodiment of humanist conviction, Havel’s life is one to study.

Coyote is a habitable moon orbiting Bear, a gas giant forty light years away. Earth’s first interstellar ship is hijacked by a group of engineers and scientists, usurping the post-US government loyalists who intend to make Coyote their home.

This book speaks to the aspirational me, the part that wants to evolve beyond Earth and build a new future, a better future, but inevitably the hubris of modern man threatens to destroy paradise. It’s a conceptually magnificent colonisation book built on plausible science, yet its success lies in the characters’ need to work together to conquer a seemingly benign world. I frequently revisit Coyote because it’s a great story, brilliantly told, and it makes me gaze at the stars.