Books like The Kidnapping Club — picked by fans

Years ago, I contributed a chapter to a book edited by Sara R. Massey. When Sara called to check on the progress of my chapter/contribution she excitedly told me about her just finishing reading Quintard Taylor’s book. She loved the book so much that she recommended I buy a copy. I promised to order the book. I kept my promise and almost missed getting my chapter to Sara because I appreciated Quintard Taylor’s book so much. Almost as if he was in my ear, his was a book full of did you know moments.

I understood fully when reading why Sara called. Taylor reminded me that this history is not necessarily parochial– existing only in one location; rather, behavior, social mores and moving from one place to another, telling a familiar tale. A tale, not in the sense of making up history, but showing how the racial construct… show more.

As Jimmy Carter nears the end of his life – a life of contributions to the world – I want to thank him for his book. His book is part historical observation, saying what historians oft-times decline to say, while being prophetically correct in recounting of history and the predictable consequences the regions faced unless action is taken.

The book was published in 2006, long after Carter left the presidency, at a time saying what others were not saying about the region. He made me a participant–as a reader–telling historical truths that I was sure he would be profoundly criticized for – oh, was he. 

I love this book because Jimmy Carter’s book is a reminder that writing non-fiction can be fraught, the same as doing an act which does not make friends. He took a risk and used his credibility to tell the truth, and as a reader, I… show more.

Texas schools do an incredible job of acculturating their students in Texas history. The school system starts by telling the story of true Texans. Unfortunately, some of those tales were what we called “stories.” 

In college, I took a course called The History of Mexico. The course book used by Professor Macias (if I remember his name correctly) was a small book, less than 200 pages, called The Compact History of Mexico. What a wonderful course and wonderful book. 

I have not looked at the book in years, even though I ordered a copy when writing this. I felt like a child reading the book, being told a different story than I had been told over the years, providing to me – a black student – the why and how history and both sides of a story are so important. Always feeling left out of the discussion, hearing a distorted… show more.

This work is not a history book but a collection of Zora Neal Hurston’s writings. Hurston wrote fiction and nonfiction and was a trained anthropologist. Her work taught me that history is oft-times found in the strangest places. This reader did this for me – a writer and anthropologist Hurston was. When I read the reader, I wanted to raise my hand and ask questions. Other times, I remained silent, only talking to myself and thinking.

In my former life as a trial lawyer, I remember quoting her writings in a final argument to explain language and culture. As my voice broke, tears flowed – this was the first time I explained the power of this book. They understood, and some of my jurors cried with me.  

As someone who has written about women in the underground economy in the 1850s, I appreciated having this additional perspective on Black working women in the 1920s who were variously numbers runners, psychics, and sex workers.

These jobs gave women an opportunity to make money at a time when so many options were cut off for them. I especially enjoyed reading about Stephanie St. Claire, who held a huge influence in Harlem in the numbers runners game and defied the authorities and mafia gang leaders while making a lot of money at her work. Her story is phenomenal, and Harris does it great justice.

The main characters in this book were the first relationship goals for me as a teenager. I loved their relationship; the story flow was vividly in my mind as I read it.

I really shouldn’t have seen the movie because often, it doesn’t follow the same storyline, but I will forever love this book and love the main characters' relationship. It was and still is golden to me.

I love this book because it gives you all the juicy stories and details about Black artists during the Harlem Renaissance. Their relationships with each other were all so messy and complicated, and I love learning about my favorite artists and writers who have inspired me as people who were deeply imperfect rather than untouchable, saint-like literary figures who could not be critiqued. It helped me see this as more human.

The people in this book shaped the spaces and sidewalks of a city I know well. Prithi Kanakamedala’s telling of four Black families’ stories and the ways they shaped Brooklyn gave depth to my own way of thinking, writing, and caring about the borough. 

I love this book because it makes people who are often absent from written histories feel vital and real–it introduces us to Black people who have agency in shaping their own lives and places, and specifically, to brilliant Black women who are almost invisible in the archive. 

I could imagine talking with these people, seeing the signs they saw, hearing the smells they smelled, and walking their streets; the book allowed me to see how Black people shaped their place–and shaped the place Brooklyn would become–and how this making of the place was really making the arguments for freedom. What else could you want?

I first read Hick’s history of black women in New York’s criminal justice system while I was in graduate school, and I was fascinated by how she brought stories to life in a city I was so familiar with.

Along with Kali Gross’s Colored Amazons, which looks at black women in Philadelphia, it inspired me to imagine what a similar study on black men could look like.

Hicks masterful use of the New York State prison archives and her attention to the details in the lives of the women in her work makes this an essential book for anyone interested in race, gender, and the carceral state. 

Although presented as a novel, this book is a memoir of Brown’s life growing up as a Black boy in Harlem in the 1940s and 50s amid poverty, violence, and addiction.

Marlene was in Paris in the summer of 1969 when a young white American man gave her a book to read. Brown’s story smacked me in the face. He lived in an America that was foreign to me—poverty, addiction, violence, incarceration. His experiences growing up on the streets of Harlem were so different from mine in suburban New Jersey.

What I remember most is my wonder at Brown’s description of “conking” his hair—straightening it with chemical relaxers that damaged his hair and burned his scalp. His description has stayed with me for all these years as a reminder of how little I knew and know about the lives of Blacks and their position in a white world.