Books like The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel — picked by fans

What must it have been like to be an executioner? In this detailed and moving study, Harrington explores the extraordinary diary of Meister Franz Schmidt, the 16th-century executioner of Nuremberg, who kept notes on every one of the 394 people he executed, as well as the countless others he tortured, whipped, and disfigured according to the law's demands. This book is therefore essential for understanding exactly how this mysterious craft was carried out, but the surprising twist in the tale is how Schmidt spent his entire life seeking to have his family's honour restored in a period when executioners were believed to be able to ritually 'pollute' another human simply by touch. Harrington's real achievement here is explaining how dishonour was the central force within public punishment—something we too easily forget today.

It’s not often I’m moved to tears by an academic book, but this book did it for me by putting me in the shoes of a Florentine patrician trying to comfort his friend the night before his execution. The main historical source of the book is an extraordinary ‘how-to’ manual: the one used by the ‘comforting confraternities’ of 16th-century Bologna, men who volunteered to spiritually prepare condemned criminals for their final moments on earth and, in so doing, hopefully increase their chances of salvation. The book explains the various methods and tools that the comforter could use, including prayers, songs, and pictures, and reveals the complex rituals of execution that began long before the prisoner’s arrival at the scaffold. A moving account of the realities of historical capital punishment.

McKenzie looks at the extraordinary phenomenon of the 'last dying speech' that condemned prisoners in Britain got to give from the scaffold. In particular, she explores events at Tyburn, London's most notorious execution site, in the 18th century, exploring how this period saw an explosion of printed literature that featured the criminal as an Everyman from whom everyone could learn a harsh lesson in morality. It's a fantastic exploration of the reality of the gallows versus what one could read in print: from the 'game' highwayman who refused to bow to society's expectations to the fearful, trembling prisoner who begged for mercy. Totally fascinating. 

Many think that the medieval period was the era of cruel and sadistic punishment, but it was, in fact, the Renaissance that saw the rise of the great spectacle of the 'theatre of horror': scaffolds erected to display the brutal dismemberment and suffering of executed prisoners in front of thousands of spectators. Although it focuses on France, Friedland's study explores why, all across Europe, this period saw an appetite for something so graphic. It explores the history of capital punishment from the Romans onwards, so it's essential reading for the theory behind executions, but the real strength lies in its exploration of the gulf between what theorists believed and what the general public actually did at executions, and why they attended in their thousands. 

Like most people, I’ve had to weather some tough experiences (the early death of my father, an anxiety disorder, crippling self-doubt). What am I supposed to do with them, and with other tough experiences to come? Just survive, try to make it to the next day? This book helped me find a resounding “No” to that question. While it wasn’t explicitly about anxiety, it focused on something that anxiety sufferers always deal with: interpreting their anxiety and suffering in light of hope. Miller showed me how each of my little daily challenges were really just opportunities to “die with Christ and rise again.” In short, he showed me how to find new life through my anxiety, not merely to see anxiety as a constant, losing battle. If you want to learn from your anxiety, and from every other hard experience in your life, you need to interpret it in a… show more.

I love Max, he always makes me laugh because he is so naughty and mischievous. He is utterly unafraid of going against the grain of social propriety, or admitting to his own selfish motives, jealousies, and contrariety. He has a wonderfully conversational style that engages the reader without pandering. (I should also admit that I wrote the introduction to this collection).

My autistic grandson, as a teenager, read this book to me aloud twice; and now, at twenty, he is reading it to me, at my request, but once again with gusto, for the third time.

It is a meticulous and loving chronicle of Jesus’ life, his doings and sayings. I have read many “biographies” of Jesus, but, along with Aleksander Men’s The Son of Man, this is my favourite. The reading of this long book aloud, chapter by chapter, is a joy.

It is dramatic in style, very reliable in details, and sound and insightful in their interpretation. At the same time, the author’s heart is in it, and so is the reader’s. It is nourishment for the soul, as well as for the mind. A splendid book.

In the 1950s, Robert Coleman, then a professor at Asbury Theological Seminary, was assigned to teach a class on evangelism. But he had a problem: he had no idea what to say. So he decided to pore over the four Gospels to discern Jesus’ strategy for winning people to his message. His lecture notes became The Master Plan of Evangelism.

The reach of The Master Plan since its publication in 1963 has been enormous. Billy Graham even wrote the foreword. But Jesus’ model of training a few was so alien to the operating systems of 20th-century churches and traveling evangelists that generations had no idea how to implement it. Not many books have been so widely read and so little applied. Yet if you only read one book on this subject, make this the one. And if you’ve already read it long ago, read it again.

I always took it for granted that questioning the New Testament and the gospels was somehow sinful. However, as I grew into adulthood, I accepted that faith and a set of beliefs can be independent and a viable position from Catholic Church dogma.

This invariably led me to research Christianity and its roots. Once started, the discrepancies between what I was taught and reality brought home the realization that the Church fathers were only men after all, subject to the same failings, striving for power, corruption, and greed as all other men. Like opening Pandora’s Box, this book opened my eyes to many things. Was Jesus invented by the Flavian dynasty? I have my own views on that.

I love both books in this duology—this one and its sequel, The Road to Cana. Renowned author Anne Rice not only depicts the life of Jesus as a child and young adult, but she also uses a first-person point of view.

This bold narrative choice connects us readers very deeply with Jesus as a character. We are immersed in the inner life of his thoughts, feelings and motivations, and so we get to share in his internal conflicts. The Jesus in these novels is a complex protagonist who experiences human emotions and drives but also must grapple with divine powers and perceptions. It is a coming-of-age story in which Jesus must reconcile his dual identities as both a human being and a divine entity.