100 Books Like To Overthrow the World

The only way I can describe this book is as a masterpiece.

Cherny spent decades researching and writing this book, including extensive work in the Moscow Archives and hours of interviews with Bridges himself. The result is an intimate study of a life dedicated to radicalism that brings Bridges and the San Francisco waterfront vividly to life.

I have only one criticism of the book. Bridges spent his life denying that he had been a member of the Communist Party, but the records in Moscow demonstrate that he belonged to the Party and was a member of its Central Committee. Cherny is reluctant to call Bridges a liar and dances around the membership question. But in my opinion, the book’s many virtues outweigh this single flaw.

For decades, historians argued over the extent of Communist Party involvement in Soviet Espionage directed at the United States. The opening of the Soviet archives and the release of the VENONA project decodes of communication between the Soviet Consulate in New York and Moscow finally provided a solid answer.

Of the many books written about the subject, I like Sibley’s best. She takes her readers through the facts of the most famous cases and gives equal attention to the points of view of all the main actors. I particularly like her descriptions of early Soviet networks devoted primarily to industrial espionage. 

Extensively researched in both Chicago and Moscow, Storch’s book tells the story of the ordinary people who joined the Communist Party.

I like this book because it firmly refutes the myth that American Communists were a semi-criminal conspiracy of disturbed individuals. As Storch demonstrates, they were just ordinary people looking for answers to the Great Depression crisis. Attracted by specific Party campaigns, such as racial equality or workers’ rights, they rarely stayed more than a few years before finding Party life too demanding.

Focusing only on the Party’s leadership leaves most people out of history. I like this book because it puts the rank and file at the heart of the story. 

Published in 1973, this was one of the first books I read when I began my lifelong research into the history of American Communism. It was one of the very first to be written by a former member of the Party and in my opinion remains one of the best in a now large number of communist autobiographies.

I like the book because of the intimate glimpses that Richmond gives his readers into the lives of the Party members he met over the course of his career and the outrageous tale of his own life. Richmond’s mother was a communist and an eyewitness to the Russian Revolution, making it almost inevitable that he would follow in the family business.  

Cherkaev also offers us a series of amazing stories informed by theory but written in a highly readable fashion. Many of her cases are about things that weren’t supposed to exist – about the stuff gleaned from the Soviet economy that allowed people to go on expeditions into nature, bury their loved ones, and make do in an economy infamous for its shortages.

You meet a lot of fascinating people, and she throws in some very provocative, well-argued, and cogently written discussion of the Soviet leadership’s changing understanding of how to build communism and the place of stuff in the project and its aftermath.

My consistent criticism of this book is that it ends too quickly – I wanted at least fifty more pages of Cherkaev’s witty prose and fascinating tales. 

This short novel is not set in the Soviet Union but in an unnamed post-Communist country that bears a striking resemblance to Bulgaria. The central character is the deposed Communist dictator, on trial for his crimes. The story is seen through his eyes, and he paints himself not as a villain but a misunderstood hero, a man who devoted his life to building socialism and a better life for his people. I know of no other book that is so good at getting into the head of a former dictator.

This is the story of one of the most difficult, time-consuming, and brilliant decoding projects ever undertaken and successfully completed.

It is about secret information so guarded that while J. Edgar Hoover was aware of it, US presidents and the heads of the CIA were not. Using rare Soviet tradecraft mistakes in the secret telegrams between the KGB in the US and Moscow, the codebreakers were able to uncover a vast network of spies in America.

This is the best (to be fair, the only) English-language novel about how the Soviet economy was supposed to work and how it actually worked in the 1950s and 1960s. (The author says it is “not a novel” but a Russian fairytale.)

I was reluctant to read it, and expected to find fault with it, but I found it both moving and utterly convincing. It has all the ingredients of a war story: the various characters are trying to survive, to find love, to protect their families, to serve the nation, or to better humanity, while being ground between the wheels of great-power politics and everyday existence.

The book’s only omission (I learned later, after years of research) is that it does not account sufficiently for the role of the secret police in Soviet-era workplace surveillance and the selection of managers.

In this multi-generational novel, Maximov showed what the Soviet system meant for ordinary people whose speech he had a rare gift for capturing. In his portrait of seven decades of the Lashkov family, he showed how the drive of the communists to control the lives of others on the basis of an ideology whose implications they themselves did not understand tore families apart. Pyotr Lashkov, the patriarch, became totally alienated from his alcoholic anti-communist brother.  Vadim Lashkov, a member of the third generation, is put in a mental hospital. A fellow prisoner advises him: “If ever you think of trying to escape, the search will be thorough, very thorough. And they’ll find you… because you’ve found out a little more than ordinary mortals are supposed to know.”

While several books have offered accounts of the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC) hearings and the blacklist in the entertainment industry, Alan Casty questions liberal perspectives on the subject, and develops a distinctive perspective. In particular he challenges what he sees as an overly simple moral take on the actions of those who cooperated with HUAC and those who did not. He discusses the role of the Communist Party in Hollywood and the impact of Cold War politics— and the politics of Stalin and the Soviet Union—on the decisions that politicians and witnesses took. There is particularly interesting material here on Robert Rossen’s experience, as someone who ‘resisted’ the Committee but later cooperated with it. This Is the best account of those that challenge the dominant perspectives in the literature.