Books like Spirit of Rebellion — picked by fans

I read this book the summer before I returned to university to complete my B.A. Thompson’s book convinced me that one of my first loves, the study of history, was where I wanted to be.

It is a ground-breaking study of people overlooked, ignored, and condescended to by historians, whose lives were changed by early forms of industrialization in late 18th and early 19th-century England. Thompson treats these people as active agents in shaping their worlds socially, economically, and politically, and he takes their role in “making class” and political activism seriously.

It is also beautifully written, and the depth of his research sets a high standard for subsequent generations of historians.

I’ve always been a sucker for a good labor strike.

But a labor strike of Black women in the South—only a decade removed from slavery—demanding dignity, equality, and a living wage so they could simply “enjoy their freedom” in a region where a rich, white, slaveholding regime was just recently toppled? That’s next-level stuff.

Hunter tells the story of this Black female majority who worked in domestic labor in the years following the Civil War. Can you imagine going to work as a wage-earning domestic laborer in the home of your former owner? And then collectively organizing to demand that “freedom” actually means something in this godforsaken region?

Come for the organized labor protests. Stay for the moment these women pack their bags and move to the North seeking the joy and pleasure they deserve.

New Orleans has always been one of my favorite cities to visit.

Beyond the beignets and parades, did you know this gorgeous city also has a colorful and vibrant labor history that united Black and white waterfront workers in solidarity against wealthy capitalists? I didn’t know until I read Arnesen’s masterful book.

I remember staying up all night to finish it in grad school and being forever shaped by the dynamic stories of immigrants, Black migrants, and their children performing the waterfront labor that kept the cotton, sugar, and other goods flowing at the New Orleans port. I keep this biracial, waterfront labor movement in my heart right alongside the beignets and jazz.

When kids stick it to the (adult) rich capitalists, it just hits different.

I reviewed this outstanding book by Vincent DiGirolamo after it had won multiple awards in 2020. It is deserving of all the accolades and then some. I learned that across America, newsboys weren’t just the purveyors of the news but they actively shaped American history, the urban landscape, and working-class identity.

I found it inspiring that these kids stoked the flames of working-class anger as they cried out the news of labor strikes and organized dozens themselves. This book was a great reminder that we have to include children and young people in the quest to rescue forgotten voices from the “enormous condescension of posterity.” 

One of the best Henrie O novels, I love it that this takes place within the hallowed halls of the academia at the fictitious Thorndyke University, where the sixty-something journalism professor-turned sleuth encourages an ambitious student to dig up the dirt on three unsolved local crimes. Of course, the student gets killed, and against the wishes of the police and the powers-that-be Henrie O gets involved, dredging up a past everyone wants to keep buried. I now realize that not knowingly, but at a subconscious level, this novel inspired me to write mine!

This is a very powerful book that takes the city of St. Louis as a case study to illustrate the amount of violence, discrimination, and inequities that have happened across a 300-year period, particularly with respect to race. 

Johnson develops the idea of racial capitalism throughout the book, and notes that “the red thread that runs through this entire book is the historical relationship between imperialism and anti-Blackness.” At the same time, the city has also been home to both communist and Black radical organizing into the 20th century. 

A highly interesting and important case study of American inequality and exploitation.

Here's another amazing woman—angry, determined 18-year-old Adair—who travels through Missouri’s brutal Civil War landscape looking for her father. Jailed in St. Louis under horrid conditions for suspected Confederate sympathies, she brawls with a fellow prisoner, strategically worms her way into the prison matron’s good graces, then captures the heart of a Union interrogator who helps her escape.

I am not a horse person, but Jiles’s description of Adair’s relationship with her horse Whiskey is otherworldly and totally converted me. One nightmare scene follows another as Adair makes her way back to her family home, and I love the resourceful lies she concocts to save herself and Whiskey amid guerrilla warfare and martial law.

Beautiful language; Jiles is a poet, and it shows.

Many would point to Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café as her opus to rural America, but the broader scope of The Whole Town’s Talking pulled me in instantly.

She draws out a full history of a small town, its good and bad and the people that made their mark there, some from birth to death. Even after death, their voices remain an active part of her tale, remaining as unbashful observers from the cemetery on the hill.

So much of rural America has fallen into disrepair, as does Flagg’s fictional Elmwood Springs, but I hold out hope that the increase in telecommuting and simmering desires to leave urban (and suburban) lives behind can reinvigorate some of these sleeping villages that are spread across much of the nation. 

I was introduced to the beguiling novels of Jonathan Carroll by the owner of a bookstore where I worked when I was young. Thirty years on and I still greatly anticipate a new novel by this unclassifiable author. 

It follows the efforts of a teacher and his girlfriend to write the biography of a deceased children’s author whom they idolize. I love that Carroll’s books begin with familiar scenarios but soon take off into a very unique kind of magical realism.

Carroll always writes with a sure, sweet touch; his dialogue is whip-smart, his characters larger than life, and his stories always zip along with an easy conversational tone. You can start anywhere with his books, but there’s a special place in my heart for this one.

This list wouldn’t be complete without a story about a journalist in peril.

Reporter Camille Preaker returns to her hometown to cover the murder of teen girls after she’s been through a tough time herself. As she covers the story and meets some interesting characters, she begins piecing things together, never realizing how close she is to the true danger. 

Camille has had a rough past, which colors her worldview and her judgment. The book explores how grief and trauma aren’t easily overcome and can’t be shelved simply because time has passed and other people have told you to move on.

I love the notion that sometimes danger is much closer than you think. As readers, we care and worry about Camille as she attempts to not just report on this story but also crack the case.