Books like The First American Declaration of Independence? — picked by fans

I have been a colonial-era history buff since I was growing up. Exploring the neighboring forests with my bow and arrow fueled my imagination as a child. I would often visit the North Carolina mountains (which later became my home) with my family, and I learned about the Trail of Tears and Cherokee history. My parents gifted me my first boat in 1973 at age 12, and I have been paddling ever since, with over 400 bodies of water documented in my personal database. We raised our children in canoes, and there is nothing I enjoy more than being out on the water in a wilderness setting and time-traveling back into the spirit of yesteryear.

I have been a colonial-era history buff since I was growing up. Exploring the neighboring forests with my bow and arrow fueled my imagination as a child. I would often visit the North Carolina mountains (which later became my home) with my family, and I learned about the Trail of Tears and Cherokee history. My parents gifted me my first boat in 1973 at age 12, and I have been paddling ever since, with over 400 bodies of water documented in my personal database. We raised our children in canoes, and there is nothing I enjoy more than being out on the water in a wilderness setting and time-traveling back into the spirit of yesteryear.

I have been a colonial-era history buff since I was growing up. Exploring the neighboring forests with my bow and arrow fueled my imagination as a child. I would often visit the North Carolina mountains (which later became my home) with my family, and I learned about the Trail of Tears and Cherokee history. My parents gifted me my first boat in 1973 at age 12, and I have been paddling ever since, with over 400 bodies of water documented in my personal database. We raised our children in canoes, and there is nothing I enjoy more than being out on the water in a wilderness setting and time-traveling back into the spirit of yesteryear.

I have been a colonial-era history buff since I was growing up. Exploring the neighboring forests with my bow and arrow fueled my imagination as a child. I would often visit the North Carolina mountains (which later became my home) with my family, and I learned about the Trail of Tears and Cherokee history. My parents gifted me my first boat in 1973 at age 12, and I have been paddling ever since, with over 400 bodies of water documented in my personal database. We raised our children in canoes, and there is nothing I enjoy more than being out on the water in a wilderness setting and time-traveling back into the spirit of yesteryear.

I confess to being a lawyer, having tried over 250 cases as a defense attorney throughout my career. I am always drawn to themes of oppression of the marginalized, who are our brothers and sisters among us. I am also a constitutional scholar and have taught as an adjunct professor of criminology for 25 years and have a strong belief in individual rights. I have a passion for colonial-era history and the outdoors. Combining those, I have canoed and kayaked close to 400 different “pioneer paddling” grounds in 21 states with a directed focus on locales where pirates plundered, patriots fought, and Native Americans struggled to survive.

I started learning about the Great Forest in the early 1980s, when my husband and I homesteaded a 100 acre woodlot in the Allegheny Mountains of Virginia. Our long back border is with the 1.2 million acres of the George Washington National Forest. So, from the beginning, we straddled the philosophical and ethical differences between private and public lands. As we learned about the devastation done to the Appalachian Mountain forests by private owners who cared for nothing but money, we took lessons from the past to form our own forest management plan aimed at avoiding such excesses. And we became advocates for the protection of national forests from any repeat of the past.

Anytime we imagine ourselves to be smarter or more clever than Madison Avenue or sponsored content on your social media feeds or a well-designed advertisement a nostalgia unlocking tweet will prove you wrong. We are all vulnerable to their manipulations, and it is from this belief that I explore the histories, the conflicts, and the techniques that strengthen capitalism’s hold on our imaginations. And yet, despite the lures of the marketplace, I believe that people can come together and outmaneuver corporations and their enablers. Whether it’s a fast-food restaurant that crashed and burned in the 1980s or the most popular toy of 1973 or failed TV spinoffs, I see these cultural contributions as rich texts to understand race, gender, and American identities.

In the wake of my father’s sudden death (when I was sixteen) I was left with many questions about my heritage. Why didn’t I know more about my parents and their homeland of Korea? Why wasn’t I curious enough to ask questions when my father was alive? Now I’m a Korean American author of many award-winning children’s books most of which are inspired by my family heritage. I’ve spent my adult life unearthing the past, immortalizing long-lost loved ones, sharing meaningful stories that would otherwise be forgotten. I’m drawn to historical fiction the way most people are to their smartphones. The truth is, there is no future without remembering the past.  

I have long been curious about why we eat the way we do, and how that is shaped by culture and history. I grew up in an immigrant family in a pretty homogenous place in the American South, so our diet was a marker of difference that I noticed as early as kindergarten. I also was curious about how entrenched the fast food, convenience food mode of American eating was, despite it being a pretty new phenomenon. These interests led me to study food history and environmental history and to become a professor in these fields. Reading books about these topics had opened my eyes to a whole hidden world! 

I never thought I’d become a historian of the US military. Like most Americans raised in the era of the All-Volunteer Force, I grew up with no close personal connections to the US military. Yet its symbols, metaphors, and power flooded my life, from movies to games to politics. Every encounter with a memoir, an operational history, a biography, or a government study offered a new understanding of how the US military came to play such a vital role in US society, and how US society in turn shaped practices and people in the military. These five histories did more than any others to shape my understanding of the military’s relationship to American society in the twentieth century.