The most recommended books on Germany

The original chronicle of the massive pirate outbreak along the China coast in the early 19th century. Written by a Chinese amateur historian, he makes his patriotic agenda clear on every page: to boost the maligned reputation of China’s imperial navy in allegedly quashing the pirates (by twisting the historical truth, to put it mildly). The main characters and incidents are based on fact, while he fills in the gaps with private conversations and meetings that no one could have been privy to. Translated into English by a German missionary in 1835, this mix of fact and speculation is the ur-document on which every western account of these pirates is based. Newer editions include an eyewitness narrative by a British sailor who spent six months as a captive of the pirates. Essential and entertaining reading which should be taken with large pinches of (pilfered) salt.

With a narrative of just over 650 pages, this is the book for the reader out there who wants it all: the names, the dates, the facts, the figures, the individual experience, and the analysis, all wrapped up in an engrossing, readable narrative. Friedländer’s impeccable scholarship speaks to the historian in me, but, more importantly, it speaks to the humanity in me.  When I sat down to read this second volume, I wasn’t struck by how thick it was. I was struck by the magnitude of tragedy that the book represented. For the reader who has read widely on the Holocaust, in particular, this book will answer many of your questions. What appeals to me most, though, is the historical data never obscures the victims or their experiences.      

Historical memory – especially the way we remember evil deeds or troubling eras from the past – is very important in our present society, and this is one of the finest books about the process of making and changing historical memory. I recommend it to to readers interested in Germany, the Holocaust, or the US Civil War.

For an understanding of how Munich became the birthplace of the Nazi movement, I highly recommend David Clay Large’s narrative nonfiction work Where Ghosts Walked: Munich’s Road To The Third Reich. At center stage in Large’s book is Munich itself, a beautiful city that before World War I was known as “Athens On The Isar” because of all of the writers, musicians, and artists it attracted. Large tells of the 1918 revolution that toppled Bavaria’s monarchy, of the Munich Soviet Republic that briefly took its place, of Bavarians’ embrace of right-wing extremism that followed the communists’ bloody ouster, and the giddy enthusiasm showered upon a mustered-out World War I corporal named Adolf Hitler as he spewed anti-Semitic and anti-democratic venom at rallies. 

Andrija’s a lifeguard on the river in a small town in the Balkans. During the war, he jumps in to save a man from drowning. Turns out he wasn’t a local, or even a partisan, but a high-ranking Nazi officer. Labelled a collaborator, Andrija flees at the end of the war and ends up an odd-job man in West Germany. When his employer falls into his own swimming pool, Andrija is convicted of his murder—for the man who died was the officer he’d once saved. In prison, Andrija discovers a book by Plato and he tries to write his own defense as if he were a philosopher too. The contortions he gets into as he tries to undo the tangle he’s been put in by history get funnier and funnier every time you reread this forgotten classic.

I had never heard of Maria Sybilla Merian before researching my latest book, but her life was amazing.

A brilliant artist, Merian lived an unconventional life—even before going to the Dutch colony of Surinam in 1698 accompanied only by her daughter. There Merian produced stunning and important works, illustrating the life cycles of insects and relationships between insect and plant species.

Merian and her work deserve to be better known.

I really love this book and could write an entire short story collection inspired by it. It’s the first time I heard about the Amber Room, one of those things that once you know about it, you are obsessed. The authors lead us into caves, through basements, across borders, as they track down the pathways of stolen treasures. The book tells us about the provenance of missing artworks, and what it means to have that space on the wall. 

All of these books have an element of ‘the missing wall’ about them and perhaps that’s one of the things that fascinates me the most about the subject. Sometimes what isn’t there is more meaningful than what is. 

A true account of how the Nazis confiscated a Berlin business property belonging to a Jewish family and the actions taken to secure restitution. The story has a twist in that the claim for restitution could not be made until after 1989 because the building is located in the Soviet sector of the city.

The property was the business headquarters for a fur company and parts of it were leased. In 1937, the Victoria Insurance Company forecloses on the mortgage and transferred ownership of the building to Hitler’s railway system. The granddaughter investigates her ancestry and the way the building was lost, and then takes up the fight to obtain restitution. After several disappointments, she is successful.

I enjoyed the storyline because it is remarkably similar to what happens in my book. It provides another perspective of how the Nazis confiscated Jewish property, and only by reading books like this… show more.

I was enraptured by this book. It took me right into the middle of one of the defining events of the air war over Germany in a way that no other book did, not even Sinclair McKay’s superb Dresden.

Through Middlebrook’s book, I saw the bombing of Germany’s second city through the eyes of the British bomber crews, the helpless German fighter pilots, and the people of Hamburg itself. It made me realise how close bombing came at that point in the war to causing a German collapse–totally absorbing.     

What struck me about this book in the first place was it never occurred to me that prisoners stuck in Colditz could spy for the British. Quite remarkably, they somehow convinced the Germans they were really German sympathizers and were then allowed out periodically to wander around Germany. 

Apparently, good information got back to Britain. The main attraction for me to the story was that besides being true, it was so unexpected.

It was also interesting that at the end of the war, Nazi sympathizers in Germany, including “Lord Haw Haw”, were promptly put on a trial that lasted a day then they were hung essentially the next available day. Compare that with what followed at Nürnberg and we see this was angry revenge, not justice.