100 Books Like The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel

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).

Nothing has superseded this in the twenty-seven years since it was published. Wenham has spent his entire career returning again and again to the issue of Jesus and Paul, showing that despite many superficial differences, the core messages of these two crucial figures at the beginning of Christianity mesh well with each other. It contains discussions as well of all the places where Paul actually quotes or alludes to Jesus’ teaching, though many scholars have not always recognized these. Despite frequent claims to the contrary, Paul is most decidedly not the true founder of Christianity but a faithful follower of Jesus. Now retired, Wenham has been a great encouragement to me at key stages of my scholarly career.

Miley does similar things in Becoming Fire as Miller does in Friendship with Jesus but with her own flavor.

Every week, she camps on a different story of the Bible.

You walk a mile in the sandals of a different character each day. That way, you develop a deeper understanding of the passage than you would if you just read it once and connected with the characters you naturally understand. 

Take the story about the sisters, Mary and Martha. Everyone relates to Martha who's super busy. That's our culture these days, right? But not as many people relate to Mary who camps at Jesus’ feet wanting to take in everything He has to say. 

I certainly didn't until God Mary'd me so much so that I ended up writing a book about it.

Through Becoming Fire, God will personalize the Scriptures for you, too!

Probably the most fascinating study of the person and teachings of Jesus I have ever read because of its profound psychological insight into the person and words of Jesus.

Wolff illustrates through real examples from her own psychotherapeutic practice and Jungian insights why Jesus' counsel to others is as relevant and powerful today as it was 2,000 years ago. A book that assisted me greatly in my own efforts to help others heal.

When I first discovered a copy of The Singer—left well-worn and dog-eared by its previous owner—I felt I had immediately picked up a book that was written in a beautiful ancient language.

In its simplistic style, the story explored an entire society through the lens of their need for truth, sacrifice, and redemption. The story spoke to me in a way none ever had. I was left in a whirl of soul-searching—critiquing my own world and its dominant values and ideals, examining my spiritual beliefs. But most of all, I was left in a state of quiet wonder.

The truth really was plain to see. Beautiful and simplistic, I just needed to open my eyes and take hold of it.