The most recommended books on antisemitism

This one had me on the edge of my seat. More telling for me to be thrown back in time to the 1960s. I didn’t live this life, but the background was familiar. I remember the Kray brothers and I did once briefly have a job in the sleazy sort of club where the boss had his goons hold a guy so he could punch him in the gut. Scary. Simon Michael’s story is all too believable and it is a testament to his ability to pull me into that world that it threw up long-gone memories. The story is told in first person which works to keep you guessing along with the protagonist barrister sleuth. For me it was a thrill ride into the past.

This is the best history of the Dreyfus Affair and I wish it were available in English. Whereas most histories of the Affair cast Dreyfus as a hapless victim or as a patriotic automaton, who might not have even been a Dreyfusard had he not been Dreyfus, Duclert shows him to have been a true hero, whose super-human resolve and fortitude eventually allowed justice to prevail. Dreyfus emerges not as a martyr to antisemitism but as the first example of the resistance hero, the model for the struggle against authoritarianism and state terror in the twentieth century.

This is the first novel by Modiano, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2014.  It has been translated into English but with a French title, which contains a pun that can’t be translated (referring both to a location in Paris and to the infamous badge imposed by the Nazis). A darkly comic and shocking send-up of French antisemitic literature, the novel features a clownish protagonist named Raphaël Schlemilovitch who embraces every antisemitic stereotype imaginable, becoming in turn, a cosmopolitan, a traitor, a collaborator, and a pimp before winding up on the couch of Sigmund Freud begging to be put out of his misery.  Modiano wrote this novel to exorcise the demons of French literature and it helped him carve out a place as a distinctly Jewish voice in the French literary pantheon.

In Constantine’s Sword: The Church and the Jews, James Carroll, a former Catholic priest turned journalist and novelist, delivers a powerful indictment of the politicized religion that from the time of Constantine the Great persecuted heretics, non-Romans, and, most of all, Jews. Carroll’s historical account is colorful and accurate, but what this book mostly does is exorcise a demon that plagued the author personally for years: his shared responsibility as a Catholic believer and official for an anti-Semitic tradition that helped generate the Holocaust. This is a stirring job of writing that looks forward to Carroll’s later work as a novelist, including his lovely take on the story of  Abelard and Heloise, The Cloister (Anchor, 2019).     

Every English major in the 20th century (maybe even in the 21st!) came to grips with T.S. Eliot. 

People remember J. Alfred Prufrock and his love song. And The Waste Land has just passed its 100th birthday and readers are still scratching their heads over it.

T. S. Eliot was the man—along with several others—who made modern poetry “hard” and complicated, and he was quite a complicated figure himself.

Lyndall Gordon gives us Eliot in all his complexities and shows how he became our age’s Dr. Johnson.

This book so impressed me because it highlights how pressing the Dreyfus scandal was. I was especially drawn in because, while Harris knows this is a tale of anti-Semitism (and a harbinger of the Holocaust), she also elicits its distinctly modern aspects.

I was amazed to discover how Dreyfus was a polarizing figure not just because he was Jewish but because the acceptance of a Jew into the ranks of society struck many Frenchmen as a sign of how much their world was being overturned.

My suspicions about modernity were confirmed: it doesn’t merely advance our technology but affects every facet of society at once: our fashions, economy, politics, and morals (usually for the better). The book is also a great history (something else that I love).

Pope Ratzinger, was the one who opened the Vatican’s archives to researchers, under lock and key until then. The documents hidden for centuries are finally seeing the light of day and this book is the result.

Painstakingly researched, the facts put to rest the Churches' long denial, that it had no role in spreading Antisemitism. The conduct of the Church and the Popes with regard to the Jews can no longer be overlooked, the tragic consequences that followed was the Holocaust. The Vatican's role and the centuries-old Antisemitism are accounted for, the exposed data speaks for itself. 

A former journalist, Antero Pietila delves into the history of Baltimore’s battles over housing and race since the 1880s. He shows how racism and antisemitism shaped who could live where in Baltimore, eventually consigning working-class Black people to disintegrating neighborhoods in the inner city. Where this book is especially good is on the history of blockbusting in the 1950s and 1960s.

Pietila introduces us to the real estate agents who preyed on Black people desperate to move out of slums and shows us how they panicked white people into selling their houses cheaply to get out before Black people moved in. Pietila draws connections between this history and the more recent example of speculators who lured Baltimore residents into subprime mortgages. Baltimore successfully sued Wells Fargo for discriminatory lending in 2012.

Kershaw’s double biography of the Nazi leader (the second part, almost entirely about World War II, is called Hubris) is a classic, and remains the best, most approachable look at the unusual upbringing of a young boy from provincial Austria who once wanted to be an artist, and felt in debt with the Jewish doctor who (unsuccessfully, as it turned out) treated his mother’s cancer. Hubris is most remarkable for the glimpses it provides of a different fate for that young boy Adolf: how he was scarred by family tragedy and by failure at multicultural Vienna, and how the Great War gave him an opening to become the worst possible version of himself.

I have long felt the need to push my feelings about being a Jewish American woman to the background when considering and discussing issues of oppression; British writer and comedian David Baddiel tells me why I feel this way and why I should not.

Jews Don’t Count is a bold polemic, a detailed, vivid, and often witty explanation of why oppression must not be a competitive practice. He explains how Jewishness is made synonymous with privilege by both the political Right and the Left despite lived experience to the contrary. And he makes plain that Jewishness must be explored via race, not religion, for this is what white supremacists do and have always done.

I felt enlightened and empowered by this critical commentary, which argues and illustrates so well how antisemitism is a significant factor in racism worldwide today.