100 Books Like Starting from Seneca Falls

Set in Boston at the beginning of the Revolutionary War, Johnny Tremain tells of a young silver-smith apprentice whose pride leads to disaster. His hand is crippled and he can no longer pursue his dream. His courage and desire to improve his life make him memorable; I still recall Johnny’s passion years after reading the novel. Eventually Johnny’s hand is healed by a surgeon and he joins the patriots. 

Johnny Tremain presents a brave character living in challenging and divisive times. Johnny Tremain brings to life conflicts with British rule and the determination of those on both sides of the struggle.

Paul Revere’s name is famous, but I loved how this book made his home life real. Sarah, the middle child in a large family, reflects the whispering, the suspicions, and the taking sides among their friends as the British take over Boston. Sarah fears for her father when he begins to ride to warn nearby towns; now he’s a marked man. More than the history, Sarah’s regret at waiting too long to make up with a dear friend warns modern readers to learn from her.

This first-person tale is perfect for boys who like to invent things—several of my young grandsons are in this category. During the Revolutionary War, a young man cobbled together a submarine to attack a British man-o-war ship. Nathan, his cousin, helped build it, though he’s afraid of water! He’s also afraid of the town bully. I love the way the themes work into the plot—facing fear and doing what you must do. Through Nathan we meet Benjamin Franklin, General Israel Putnam, and even glimpse George Washington. Worth the price of the book is the diagram of the “Turtle”, an ingenious invention that did play a part in our nation’s War for Independence.

Through the eyes of the young protagonist, I was immersed in this slice of Martin Luther’s life. The Luther we get to know plays the lute and chuckles at his own jokes, even in the midst of defending his beliefs from those in power. Young Karl Shumacher, Luther’s servant, becomes a key player when they travel to Wurms for the Imperial Council. Later, when Luther is kidnapped and taken to a lonely castle to keep him from being executed for heresy, Karl assists him. Readers (like me) who get hooked on the Jackson’s style of biographies of church leaders can choose from 39 more.

Ireland is one of my favorite locations for novels, as well as New York City, and this one toggles between both. It’s the story of a young girl in a small town with no opportunity who travels to find a place where she can thrive. It’s a story we’ve heard many times before, and yet it never gets old.

I was drawn to the aspects of this novel that uncover the realities of the 1950s from the perspective of a young, female immigrant with no resources. It deals with survival in a totally different way than the books I listed above. There’s an intensity and reality to it that is profound.

Let The Great World Spin orbits around Philip Petit’s high-wire walk between the Twin Towers in New York in 1974; an amazing feat that has, of course, only become more charged and potent with time. The novel creates a kaleidoscope of lives touched by that breathtaking act, as well as capturing, in heartstopping prose, the magnitude of the act itself.

I like this book because it remembers forgotten women. I recall visiting in the early 1970s an old and distant relative of mine in Boston who had worked in domestic service most of her life and who early on encountered signs stating “No Irish, No Negroes Need Apply”.

I think that for too long, the fate of domestic servants and other impoverished young women immigrants who became Irish Americans has been neglected. This racy account of how the American dream ended badly for too many Irish women forced to leave their homes for the USA goes some way for me to make up for that. 

I don’t know how much I knew of nineteenth-century Ireland when I first read this book as a child, but I certainly wanted to know a whole lot more after reading it. And after years of researching and teaching nineteenth-century Irish history, I still love this book!

This is a wonderfully written and extremely moving account of Irish emigration to the US in the nineteenth century, as told by (fictional) teenager Peggy O’Driscoll. It is the second in a trilogy, which includes the more well-known Under the Hawthorn Tree about the Great Irish Famine. I love them all, but this one was always my favorite, following the challenges and adventures that Peggy had in the ‘new world.’

The “coffin ship” is a haunting metaphor for the catastrophe that struck Ireland in the 1840s and 1850s, when more than 1 million people died of starvation and disease and another 2 million people emigrated.

In this deeply researched and beautifully written book, Cian McMahon accomplishes two main goals. First, he disentangles the myth of the “coffin ship” from the reality. Shipboard mortality, he finds, was generally low, yet on some fully one-quarter of the passengers perishing in the worst cases.

Second, McMahon fills in a huge gap in emigration history—which usually explains why people leave home and then takes up the story again when they arrive in America—by showing how emigrants grappled with life and death on board ships and built community in the process.

Thoroughly researched, elegantly written, and deeply humane, Expelling the Poor shows how poverty—and Irish poverty in particular—shaped American immigration policy.

Until the late nineteenth century, Hidetaka Hirota demonstrates, individual states and cities controlled their own borders. They regulated, taxed, excluded, and removed the Irish poor, thereby laying the groundwork for the national policy that emerged in the 1880s.

By examining the impact of nativist sentiment, Hirota reveals how policies directed at the Irish-born poor, alongside the exclusion of Chinese laborers, explain the origins of immigration policy in the United States.