I’ve always liked narrative history and how we can take research and turn it into a story. More importantly, I love books that can recover the histories of marginalized people—people who don’t make it into the history textbooks. Historical true crime gives me access to realities we don’t often see. Court transcripts, detective reports, news accounts, and oral histories all combine to illuminate a world beyond the famous and known. I’m drawn to those books (and book projects) that ask the question: what can we know about the past if we look at it through the lens of a crime? Whose realities do we witness through such a lens?
I wrote...
Shadow Men: The Tangled Story of Murder, Media, and Privilege That Scandalized Jazz Age America
Sweet drew me in from the start with this story of 17-year-old seamstress Lahan Sawyer who was raped in late 18th century New York. The book not only tells us the story of this crime and Sawyer’s courage to press charges but also opens a window into life in that era, from class dynamics to legal proceedings around claims of rape, to the political dynamics of New York in those years after the Revolution.
But what I really love about this book is its narrative force. Sweet renders the world of a New York recovering from war as he speculates and contextualizing Swayer’s life within the broader city, which she had little power to control.
On a moonless night in the summer of 1793 a crime was committed in the back room of a New York brothel - the kind of crime that even victims usually kept secret. Instead, seventeen-year-old seamstress Lanah Sawyer did what virtually no one in US history had done before: she charged a gentleman with rape.
Her accusation sparked a raw courtroom drama and a relentless struggle for vindication that threatened both Lanah's and her assailant's lives. The trial exposed a predatory sexual underworld, sparked riots in the streets, and ignited a vigorous debate about class privilege and sexual double standards.…
This was one of the first books I read that showed me how powerful true crime can be as a vehicle for historical narrative. Jewett’s murder in 1830s New York was all but forgotten until Cline recovers that case and the social world of sex workers in that era.
It’s the writer’s eye for narrative details and her contemporary sleuthing into the complexities of Jewett’s life that keeps me coming back to this book again and again. Cline continually reveals her research process, and by doing so, I felt like I was part of the story as she reconstructs the crime and New York in the 1830s.
In 1836, the murder of a young prostitute made headlines in New York City and around the country, inaugurating a sex-and-death sensationalism in news reporting that haunts us today. Patricia Cline Cohen goes behind these first lurid accounts to reconstruct the story of the mysterious victim, Helen Jewett.
From her beginnings as a servant girl in Maine, Helen Jewett refashioned herself, using four successive aliases, into a highly paid courtesan. She invented life stories for herself that helped her build a sympathetic clientele among New York City's elite, and she further captivated her customers through her seductive letters, which mixed…
What I love about this book is that it is not another investigation into the mysterious (and now mythologized) Jack the Ripper in late Victorian London. Rather, the book is about his victims.
In rendering each woman’s life within the harsh realities of working-class East London, Rubenhold completely shifts the way I have come to understand the entrenched claims that Ripper’s victims were all prostitutes. I love the research and speculation the book offers into the lives of the five women, recovering their complexities and difficulties among the squalor of Whitechapel. It’s a compelling read that held me from start to finish.
THE #1 SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER WINNER OF THE BAILLIE GIFFORD PRIZE FOR NONFICTION 2019 'An angry and important work of historical detection, calling time on the misogyny that has fed the Ripper myth. Powerful and shaming' GUARDIAN
Polly, Annie, Elizabeth, Catherine and Mary-Jane are famous for the same thing, though they never met. They came from Fleet Street, Knightsbridge, Wolverhampton, Sweden and Wales. They wrote ballads, ran coffee houses, lived on country estates, they breathed ink-dust from printing presses and escaped people-traffickers.
What they had in common was the year of their murders: 1888.
Few writers can compare to Grann in his storytelling skills and his ability to bring historical lives to contemporary realities. I admire the way Grann turns his research into a compelling narrative, bringing me into the 1920s Southwest—a world that often is not part of our idea of the Roaring Twenties.
In focusing on the tragedies the Osage suffered, the book opens up a new understanding of the Roaring Twenties that has little to do with speakeasies and lavish parties. And this, for me, is the power of Grann’s book to expand our understanding of this iconic era through this long-ignored story of the Osage people. While I liked the movie version of the book, nothing compares to Grann’s compelling storytelling voice.
In the 1920s, the richest people per capita in the world were members of the Osage Indian nation in Oklahoma. After oil was discovered beneath their land, they rode in chauffeured automobiles, built mansions and sent their children to study in Europe.
Then, one by one, the Osage began to be killed off. As the death toll climbed, the FBI took up the case. But the bureau badly bungled the investigation. In desperation, its young director, J. Edgar Hoover, turned to a former Texas Ranger named Tom White to unravel the mystery. Together with the Osage he and his undercover…
Fieseler brings his journalistic eye to this forgotten 1973 tragedy when an LGBTQ social club in New Orleans was set ablaze, killing 32 people. I appreciate how Fieseler not only details the fire and the mainstream media’s utter disregard for the crime but, more importantly, how he focuses on the individuals who perished and those who survived, situating their stories within the burgeoning LGBTQ rights movement of the era.
I’ve been haunted by this book since the first time I read it. Its power rests in its narrative force of witnessing and remembrance and the immediacy of Fieseler’s prose.
Buried for decades, the Up Stairs Lounge tragedy has only recently emerged as a catalyzing event of the gay liberation movement. In revelatory detail, Robert W. Fieseler chronicles the tragic event that claimed the lives of thirty-one men and one woman on June 24, 1973, at a New Orleans bar, the largest mass murder of gays until 2016. Relying on unprecedented access to survivors and archives, Fieseler creates an indelible portrait of a closeted, blue- collar gay world that flourished before an arsonist ignited an inferno that destroyed an entire community. The aftermath was no less traumatic-families ashamed to claim…
In May of 1922, 19-year-old ex-sailor Clarence Peters from Haverhill, Massachusetts, was found murdered on a desolate road in Westchester County, New York, a leafy suburb north of New York City. Some days later, Walter S. Ward, the 31-year-old millionaire heir of the Ward Baking Company, admitted he shot Peters in self-defense and claimed he was being blackmailed by a gang of "shadow men.” The motive behind the blackmail turned the murder from a local story to a national scandal.
My book conjures the excesses and contradictions of the Jazz Age, the social tensions of class privilege, the power of the press to define the lines between private life and public reputation, and the elusive nature of true crime stories—what they reveal and what remains hidden.
Kelly Simmons has been published in 12 countries by Simon & Schuster and Sourcebooks, and her widely praised novels are frequently compared to Big Little Lies.
Her new book, The Off Season, is set on the tranquil shores of the Chesapeake Bay, where headstrong thirteen-year-old Savannah bursts into the local police department, insisting her mother’s drowning was anything but an accident. She’s forced to tangle with the languid Bay police department as well as the year-rounder adults and teens who might be complicit not just in her mother’s death but a decades-old cold case.
For fans of Lisa Jewell and Liane Moriarty. Published in 12 countries by Simon & Schuster and Sourcebooks, Kelly's widely praised novels are frequently compared to BIG LITTLE LIES.
THE OFF SEASON explodes on the tranquil shores of the Chesapeake Bay. A headstrong thirteen-year-old girl insists her mother’s drowning was anything but an accident. She’s forced to tangle with the languid bay police department as well as the year-rounder adults and teens who might be complicit not just in her mother’s death, but a decades-old cold case. With echoes of GONE GIRL and STAND BY ME, it’s part crime, part…
