85 Books Like The Maryland Campaign of September 1862

Crafted like a well-told story, Sears’ now classic volume was my first foray into the Battle of Antietam lo these many years ago. It offers readers an engaging, generally accurate overview of the background, events, and results of America’s costliest day, September 17, 1862. Although its three-phase, framing approach to the battle has been surpassed by new interpretations, it remains a useful starting point for those wishing to learn the basics and if readers seek only one work to read on Antietam, this is the book to choose. Every student of the battle—casual, serious, or scholarly--will want to have read and be familiar with Sears' work.     

In my opinion, this is one of the best Civil War memoirs ever written.

Rufus Dawes (the great-grandson of William Dawes, who alerted colonial minutemen prior to the Battles of Lexington and Concord, along with Paul Revere and Samuel Prescott) was only 20 years old when he was commissioned a Captain in the 6th Wisconsin Infantry (a regiment in the “Iron Brigade”). He served his three-year term of service and resigned his commission in August 1864; taking part in all of the regiment’s battles up to that point (and some of the bloodiest of the war).

He often led the regiment in battle; taking command at the battle of Antietam when the regiment’s colonel, Edward S. Bragg, was wounded and at Gettysburg, when Bragg was absent. After his resignation, he was brevetted a brigadier general for meritorious service. 

Drawing extensively on his diaries and letters, Dawes published Service in… show more.

Murfin’s readable classic account of the battle takes readers deeper into the military movements and fighting action. His detailed maps further enrich readers’ understanding of the “who” and the “how” of Antietam’s battle. Adding considerable numbers of personal soldier stories, Murfin’s work takes readers closer to understanding the common soldier’s experience, while tying those experiences to the larger objectives of senior military officers. Although his analysis generally reflects an earlier era, knowing how the battle was understood during the Civil War’s centennial provides context for most current interpretations of America’s bloodiest day.    

Civilians affected by America’s bloodiest day—tiny Sharpsburg, Maryland was literally at the center of the fighting—are too frequently treated as an afterthought, but Kathy Earnst’s excellent book proved a vital resource for capturing their experiences in my own book. Featuring firsthand accounts of these experiences that day, she provides background stories of these average people swept up in this event as well as short descriptions of their lives after the battle.

This is the most detailed history of the Battle of Antietam available and is filled with insight. 

The stories Hartwig unearthed are compelling and fascinating. Of all the books on Antietam, this one makes you feel closest to the action. It is a moving, often chilling, read.

Hartwig also offers new thoughts on the effectiveness of George McClellan as a general and even some criticism that will be new to many readers.

The book stumbles when it comes to developing a wider perspective, including the lack of an explanation of why Robert E. Lee decided to fight at Antietam. This weakens the book’s impact a bit as the reader continues to come away bewildered about why the general would have taken such a dangerous risk with his army.

Bruce Catton introduced untold readers from the early 1950s through the 1970s to the Civil War. His Army of the Potomac Trilogy—Mr. Lincoln’s Army (1951), Glory Road (1952), and A Stillness at Appomattox (1953; winner of the Pulitzer Prize for History)—provided a compelling narrative of the most important Union army’s soldiers and officers. Catton excelled at creating incisive biographical portraits of figures such as George B. McClellan and Ulysses S. Grant, as well as at evoking the attitudes and experiences of soldiers in the ranks. The trilogy also seamlessly connected events on the battlefield to politics and social developments, a crucial factor in telling the story of how a democratic republic waged a transformative military conflict.

We don’t have enough books that celebrate how thoughtful and patient reform strategies can pay big dividends over time.

Journalist and Public Policy Professor David Kirp embedded himself in the community of Union City, New Jersey and documented how the school district has worked to improve educational outcomes in decidedly non-flashy ways.

As Kirp writes, all too often education reform has a “flavor of the month” and faddish quality to it, trapped in seemingly endless cycles of unrealistic big bang-style reforms and inevitable disappointments.

Improbable Scholars provides a hopeful counternarrative, showing that large-scale change is possible beyond a single stand-out school or teacher.

Constance and Gwenyth Little—sometimes listed under the portmanteau Conyth Little—wrote 21 screwball mysteries in the 1930s and 1940s, starting with The Grey Mist Murders.

I’m recommending their second book, The Black-Headed Pins, because I think it’s where the Little sisters really begin to show their storytelling chops. Constance Little generally thought up the plots and clues, and Gwenyth fleshed out the books, both of them reportedly writing in bed each morning.

The Littles’ mysteries aren’t a series, but they have several items in common. They feature smarty-pants heroines, snappy dialogue worthy of a Frank Capra movie, and romantic disaster—until it all turns out right. The Black-Headed Pins ticks all these boxes.

It takes place over Christmas and involves a moving corpse, a family curse, and a miserly hostess that makes Scrooge look positively benevolent.

I grew up in Los Angeles in the 1970s and 1980s, when toxic pollution hung in the air and tainted the drinking water, ocean, and soil in ways much more plainly evident than today. Because of this, I am drawn to investigative journalism that holds industrial polluters to account. 

This is a towering work of narrative journalism that explains the causes of a mysterious cancer cluster in a bucolic town on the New Jersey shore. Fagin unspools the knotty science of epidemiology with the on-the-ground reality of a small town coming to grips with a rising, mysterious cancer epidemic. 

It’s an easy read for such a weighty topic, showing how science and the hard work of regulators and journalists can change the world by exposing the truth.

There are a lot of legends regarding New Jersey and its role in the Civil War, including bogus stories that the state was considering joining the Confederacy. This book was the first attempt at relating the actual story of the state and the war. While it can be criticized in some respects, it is largely correct, and details the history of each of New Jersey’s units in the conflict. It is an invaluable starting point and a resource for anyone writing about the state and its role in the Civil War.