Books like Windows on the Past — picked by fans

This pioneering 1963 classic is the first book I ever read that describes some of the 200 groups of “mestizos” (Berry’s term) living in the eastern United States, with names like the Brass Ankles, the Red Bones, the Melungeons, the Lumbees. It prodded me to start thinking about the whole issue of race and how it is constructed – and what happens to the “marginal” people (another Berry term) who don’t fit into the rigid categories of African, European, Asian, or Native American. 

In this 1994 cri de coeur Brent Kennedy discusses the Melungeon branches of his family tree. One branch is on my family tree, twice since my paternal grandparents were cousins. This book provided my first hint that my own family tree harbored some mysterious ancestors. It launched me on a ten-year quest to discover who the Melungeons were, where they came from, and whether or not my ancestors had been among them. The book also launched an Appalachian liberation movement of sorts, as many who had been taught to conceal their racially mixed ancestry rushed to claim it – and proclaim it.

This is the most thorough compendium yet of the available information about Melungeons. Winkler covers the little that is known about Melungeon history, as well as exploring the many origin myths and theories – of descent from shipwrecked Potuguese sailors, from deserters from DeSoto’s exploring expedition, from survivors of Juan Pardo’s torched wilderness forts, etc. He also describes associated mixed race groups and relates some of the scientific efforts to pin down the genesis of the Melungeons.

This book features a trio of true-life stories from the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries about families whose ancestors were enslaved but who, by a variety of stratagems, managed to cross the color line and become “white” in the eyes of others – and eventually in the eyes of their own descendants. These stories illustrated for me the actual permeability of racial categories, hinging largely on one’s physical appearance and possessions. In other words, the lighter your skin and the larger your bank account, the greater the possibility that others will allow you to be whoever you say you are.

I read this book when I was a graduate student studying journalism, but it has never stopped resonating with me. When I began to research my novel set in the Great Depression, I returned to Hard Times and also had the good fortune to find and listen to the recordings of Terkel’s interview subjects. This book is essentially a collection of oral histories that runs the gamut of the human condition during the Great Depression: those who had everything, those who had nothing and everyone in-between. This is “person-on-the-street” journalism at its finest. The stories are mesmerizing and the voices are authentic. That is the magic of this amazing journalist who captured the voices of the world for decades.

This is a classic oral history of jobs in what older people call “the good old days.” It is told from the perspective of the individuals doing the jobs they were talking about, and it reveals how interesting their day-to-day experience is.

The reminder for today, especially in our remote workplaces, is how important relationships with people at work are to our happiness and well-being. It’s also a reminder of how important it is for people to have some control over what they do and to feel invested in their work.

People want to do things well and take pride in what they do. We forget all this when we think of workers as widgets to be optimized. 

This book is a celebration of experiences, told not by Hollywood, not by “the rich and famous,” but by people who might live next door to you and me. Pulled together from the massive archives of the highly esteemed StoryCorps project and edited by its Founder—Dave Isay, this book is dedicated to the power of true stories told by ordinary Americans.

I love the sheer variety offered in this collection. I did not expect this book to be a page-turner, but each story held such unpredictability and emotional range that I simply could not put it down! The book is a rich reminder that once we establish the time and space to listen deeply, people will offer stories that unfold like stunning flowers on a time-lapse video.

The authors explore why and how personal narratives should be used as evidence (in my case, in history), and the methods and pitfalls of their use. The authors stress the importance of recognizing that stories that people tell about their lives are never simply individual. Rather, they are told in historically specific times and settings and call on rules, models, and social experiences that govern how story elements link together in the process of self-narration. Stories show how individuals' motivations, emotions, and imaginations have been shaped by their cumulative life experiences. This book reveals in simple, jargon-free prose the understanding that takes place between narrators of personal narratives and their audience and enriches the results immeasurably.

You think your life is complicated. Alliances in this mammoth, magnificent novel turn on a dime (or a brick), but several deep connections are life-altering.

For one: the Jamaican dealer Weeper defies category; he’s both violent and tender, both gay and appalled by his homosexuality. When he falls for another man post-prison, he has both to confront and to conceal his panoply of contradictions—which becomes excruciating and finally impossible when boss (and friend) Josey Wales flies in to inspect the Bushwick operation.

I love the intrigue, disclosure, and virtuosity. Nothing simple, nothing easy, nothing dull.

Joe Gould first came to the world’s attention when Joseph Mitchell published two articles about him in the New Yorker in the mid-twentieth century. A self-described bohemian, he was an eccentric denizen of Greenwich Village who claimed to be writing “The Oral History of Our Time,” a massive, revolutionary book that Gould said would be read by generations yet to come. Or, was he really just a heavy drinking raconteur who ingratiated himself among some of the leading artists, poets, and writers of his day? Jill Lepore pushes Gould’s story beyond Mitchell’s original version, finding darker truths behind it.