Books like The Papacy in the Age of Totalitarianism, 1914-1958 — picked by fans

I feel that stylistically and in terms of passion, this is non-fiction at its best; it reads like a thriller.

Kertzer is a master of narrative, and his indictment of the indifference of the church before the German occupation of Europe and the Holocaust troubled me deeply as a person of faith. Despite being a professional historian, I was impressed by the humanity of his treatment of real people.

His description of the round-up of the Jews of the Rome Ghetto is genuinely moving, highly disturbing, and brought tears to my eyes. My particular enjoyment of the book came from its many archival discoveries in the Vatican Archives.  

Picking up a book on one of Christianity’s most complex and problematic councils is not for the faint-hearted.

I loved O’Malley’s ability to turn this meeting of over two thousand bishops into a gripping narrative about disagreement, debate, and renewal. What could have been a dry book about theology in his hands becomes a brilliant reflection on the internal divisions of the church and its relationship with progress. His careful eye for anecdotes and dignified humour is particularly attractive.

Unlike so many other close-minded Catholics, O’Malley is not scared to admit the politics of the council, its legacy, and its ongoing controversies. 

Stourton is the best sort of biographer; I appreciate his candour and directness.

Despite clearly admiring the now-Saint John Paul II, he portrays vividly the limitations of this conservative and retrograde pope whose long reign saw the church battle with modernity. John Paul II’s inability to listen to women, engage in genuine dialogue with other faiths, his authoritarianism, and propensity to hide scandals within the church are eloquently examined in this biography.

I particularly like the character sketches and Stourton’s ability to poke some fun at this very dour and remarkably earnest pope. What could have been a dry subject is a vivacious and constructively critical sketch of one of history's longest pontificates. 

I apologise for recommending an untranslated Italian book on an English-language website, but it is a testament to this book's sheer importance that I do so.

Coco is a Vatican archivist, and his employer is this book's protagonist. Despite this, I admire his honesty and decision not to defend the Vatican. His book destroys two myths: 1. Hitler’s Pope and 2. that the Vatican actively sought to save Jews during the Holocaust. I found this book fresh, beautifully written, and I admire the depth of research. Yet the book seeks to neither condemn nor exalt the Catholic’s role in the Holocaust.

I found Coco’s conclusion that the church neither collaborated with fascism nor actively sought to help those persecuted the fairest and most compelling conclusion about the Vatican’s role during the Second World War. I highly recommend this book and hope it will be translated soon. 

I sort of always knew that the tortuous line of Catholic popes was a road of corruption, war, treachery, conquest, and gathering of secular and sectarian power.

When I started reading this book, my preconceptions were severely beaten. The history of papal rule turned out to be far more bloody. What disturbed me greatly, something I should not have found surprising is that this process is happening even today. I could have dismissed this work as simply another anti-Christian smear campaign were it not for the solid research and undeniable supporting facts. I had to accept the veracity of what I read, understanding why the Church never adopted the concept of separation of powers. To do so would mean its destruction. What to do? More research, of course.

Commonly interpreted as the finest account of the ‘gigantic criminality’ of the Nazi and Stalinist totalitarian regimes, Arendt’s book has for me a more immediately visceral significance. It has profound things to say about what she called a "terribly cruel" contradiction lurking within the modern democratic commitment to equality.

She pointed out that although democracy demands that we recognize others as our equals, certain groups, especially for reasons of their past sufferings, are prone to misuse and abuse their democratic freedoms. They do so by violently asserting their rights to live as a "sovereign people" at the expense of others whom they treat as "superfluous."

Would Arendt have been surprised by the way a "democratic" state born of the ashes of genocide is nowadays behaving? Would she have condoned its military efforts to destroy "in whole or in part" (Genocide Convention Article 2c) a "superfluous" people known as Palestinians? Almost… show more.

Not everything that seems harmful does us harm, and not everything that seems good does us good.

I love books that make me reconsider the world I live in, and although Brave New World was published in 1932, its use of empty entertainment, sex, drugs, and medicated happiness as instruments of social control feels startlingly contemporary.

In dystopias built around punishment, power forces people to obey; here, pleasure makes them willing. The Romans already understood this through panem et circenses, and I see the same mechanism around us today. We fail to notice the cage because we are too busy seeking it out and locking ourselves inside.

This book broadened my perspective and taught me to look at apparent comforts with more suspicious eyes.

Čapek was a kind of Czech Orwell. Best known for his satirical science fiction — RUR gave us the word “robot”; War with the Newts is mindbogglingly inventive — he was also a prolific journalist who decried the rise of totalitarianism while celebrating ordinary lives. This anthology is the perfect introduction to his abundant wit, insight and compassion, with subjects ranging from the dishonesty of political language to the joy of gardening. A courageous anti-fascist, Čapek died of pneumonia in 1939, shortly before the Nazis invaded Czechoslovakia and arrived at his door to arrest him.

I was impressed by Tim Snyder’s ability to distill decades of academic knowledge of dictatorship and autocracy into very important but simple lessons that we need to pay attention to now and always.

An historian, Tim Snyder, is astute at identifying the legal ‘slides’ used by autocrats to gradually move democratic countries into non-democratic configurations. This is the kind of book I wish were in the required section of high school reading lists.

The identity of “Murray Constantine” wasn’t uncovered until the 1980s, long after Burdekin’s death, but only a woman could have created such a persuasive patriarchal dystopia, half a century before The Handmaid’s Tale. Burdekin’s futuristic Nazi empire, a brutally misogynist quasi-religion, is dying slowly from within and an English airman named Alfred has been given explosive proof that Hitler was not in fact a Thor-like deity. Though the plot fizzles out, the ideas are extraordinarily ahead of their time.