100 Books Like Rebellion in the Mohawk Valley

Ever since researching and writing my master’s thesis in the 1960s on the treatment of indigenous people in high school American History textbooks, I have tried very hard to learn more about the diverse indigenous nations and how they have been involved and treated in American History.

The title of the book really grabbed me. History texts had always looked at indigenous people as obstacles to national growth, but here was a book about people who were our allies in the war for independence, but they had then been forgotten when settlers wanted their land. The stories of individual people as well as groups were fascinating and tragic.

This book helped me see the Saratoga campaign in new and deeper ways than other books I had read. The focus on accurately interpreting the battle through artifacts and then creating accurate illustrations and narratives really emphasized how history is more than just words put together to make an argument that some event was highly important or that an individual was responsible for the victory or defeat.

“Doing” history is not just digging for facts to relate but striving to understand events and the people involved with an open mind to additional evidence or suggested interpretations.

This is a highly readable story of the frequently tense and tragic interactions between indigenous people and those of European descent who settled on their land. It gets down to a personal level, focusing on the intertwined lives of white missionary Samuel Kirkland and strong, complex, and important Mohawk leader Joseph Brant.

It is as much about changes in people over time as about economic, political, cultural, and other evolving elements in colonial New York.

This book helped me understand an element in my family history, as well as promoting my understanding of the American Revolution in New York and other states. Aside from my personal interest in my family, this book provided many stories of the diverse experiences of women who followed the American Army and their valuable contributions to it.

As Mayer so eloquently reveals, the Continental Army, like other armies of the time, was a traveling community that included soldiers’ families, merchants, and various other people who helped the soldiers. Mayer’s work clearly shows that one cannot understand the experience of the American Revolution without understanding the varied people who traveled with the army.

Roberts wrote many better-known novels—e.g. Northwest Passage and Rabble in Arms. Few people remember this wonderful adventure, which takes young Steven Nason on Benedict Arnold’s doomed expedition up the Kennebec River to assault Quebec. (Arundel is a town in southern Maine.) Exuberant writing, great historical detail, and a wonderful depiction of New England Indian life. A classic.

Reading Independence Lost made the American Revolution, something I’d been studying and teaching about for twenty years, feel startlingly new—and I recommend it to everyone so they can feel its magic for themselves.

It’s no wonder it won so many prizes! What’s captivating is how deftly Kathleen DuVal shifts the focus away from the familiar sites in Boston and Philadelphia to the Gulf Coast, revealing a world of Native nations, Spanish governors, free Black strivers, and Creole merchants all swept up in their own fights for independence—and all defining ‘independence’ differently. 

This is a classic and provocative set of essays by an eminent historian who asked whether and in what ways the War for Independence resembled modern revolutionary wars. It led every serious historian of the Revolution to realize that the war was not simply a conflict between armies but a political struggle to secure the loyalty of the civilian population.

What about wives left behind when their husbands marched off to war? This neglected gem showcases the letters between Joseph Hodgkins, a Minuteman who answered the Lexington Alarm, and his wife Sarah, at home with three small children. Joseph reenlists, not once but twice: “If we Due not Exarte our selves in this gloris. Cause our all is gon and we made slaves of for Ever.” But with each succeeding term, Sarah’s letters become more heart-wrenching: “You may think I am too free in expressing my mind. I look for you almost every day but I dont alow myself to depend on anything for I find there is nothing to be depended upon but troble and disapointments. I hope you will Let Some body else take your Place.” Can such a marriage survive? 

Eighteenth-century innovators came in many forms. Some were artisans, the craftspeople who made utilitarian things. Some were what were sometimes called toy makers, not because they made toys, but because they made baubles and trinkets for adults. Some were natural philosophers, whose innovations came in the physical sciences. And some were artists—creators of high-priced, highly-prized, and beautiful things. In this latter category, John Singleton Copley was America’s most accomplished. Perhaps the finest portraitist ever to paint in America, on the eve of the War for Independence, the young Copley left for Britain, never to return to the country of his birth. Kamensky’s intimate and moving portrait shows Copley, the ex-pat and loyalist, ascending to the pinnacle of the British art world. But far more importantly, it shows the price Copley and his family paid for this ascent, reminding the reader that innovation does not happen in a political vacuum. 

I can’t get enough of Tarleton. Hated and feared in America, he was a hero to the British, and remains a cherished forebear in the UK and Canada.

I read relentlessly on the debate over Tarleton, which continues to this day, unresolved, in stark black and white terms. This fact is most apparent in the debate over Buford’s Massacre.

On 29 May 1780, Tarleton utterly defeated Abraham Buford’s detachment of several hundred American soldiers at the Waxhaws, on the border between North and South Carolina. The carnage was extreme. Tarleton claimed Buford made serious tactical errors that laid his men open to the British cavalry. The Americans cried foul, insisting Tarleton cut down men surrendering their weapons and asking quarter. Who’s right?

This is another book after my own heart, looking to get through the legends to learn what really took place at the Waxhaws.