68 books like Landon Carter's Uneasy Kingdom

I shouldn't be recommending this book. Its sources are limited. Its psychological approach to its subject is outdated. Worst of all, its author earned degrees in literature, not history! (I'm a history professor.) But I don't care.

I find this book electrifying. It is the work of a dogged gumshoe investigator, a mother in her 20s, who relentlessly dug up the long-concealed secrets of one of America's most extraordinary national stories: the life and death of Joseph Smith, founder of the Latter-Day Saints movement.

This book shows the most thrilling part of being a historian: finding things out. "No man knows my history," Joseph Smith once claimed. The title of this book is a sly rejoinder: Maybe once, no man knew your history, but now, one woman does.

This book is for anyone whose family had open secrets—shocking, taboo, untraditional stories that could be tolerated as long as they remained unspoken. Rachel Hope Cleves thinks sometimes we should just say the secret out loud.

Shrugging off a scholarly tradition of delicacy and caution about sexuality in history, she marches into Charity and Sylvia's tiny New England bedroom and says: yes, these two women loved each other, yes, they considered themselves husband and wife, and yes, they definitely had sex. How do we know? How did their small town tolerate this? How could they have been church leaders?

I had all these questions, and Cleves answered them. Charity and Sylvia's poignant, astonishing story makes me wonder: what else is right in front of my eyes that I'm not seeing? 

Benjamin Franklin might be a Founding Father (I know, yawn), but he's also a real weirdo, and in my opinion, he's the only eighteenth-century American whose jokes still hold up.

His life story is full of relatable confessions: he fails at vegetarianism, chastity, and resisting the appeals of traveling fundraisers. He's so intent on convincing me of his honesty that he sometimes makes me suspicious. "Am I getting conned?" I ask myself. "Is this guy actually telling me all this to sell me something?" But I'm having such a good time listening to him that I just decide not to care.

New York in the 1830s was a modern city on the make, where you could find Irish immigrant neighborhoods, white-collar workers, fire insurance, social reformers...and the bizarre religious cult of the Prophet Matthias.

I find Matthias reactionary and creepy, but I am fascinated by how he sees modern life through a dark mirror. His loathing of the rising middle-class world was so specific! He hated new-fangled cast-iron stoves, "women who do not keep at home," and "men who wear spectacles." Johnson and Wilentz refuse to spell out all the lessons of this book; instead, they dump you into a strange environment where the most unsettling moments are actually the ones when something suddenly feels familiar.

Though I felt too raw after George Floyd’s death in the summer of 2020 to read about the shattered dreams of an enslaved woman, there was something about Pheby Brown’s story that I found intriguing.

I had spent the last few weeks reading various novels about wives. Enslaved at birth, Pheby is promised her freedom on her 18th birthday but instead is forced to become the mistress to the jailer at a place where slaves are broken, tortured, and sold every day.

I loved how Phebe’s ability to create these beautiful designs with her sewing enabled her to protect her heart and those she loved. I was inspired by her strength and perseverance in the face of the brutality of slavery.

Though not published until 2002, after Harvard University professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. purchased and authenticated the manuscript, the autobiographical novel The Bondwoman's Narrative by Hannah Crafts is widely considered the first book known to have been written by a fugitive enslaved woman. Crafts was the author’s pseudonym, and the novel, estimated to have been written in 1858, parallels the life of Hannah Bond, a woman who is documented to have escaped enslavement on a North Carolina plantation and who, like the novel’s protagonist, eventually settled in New Jersey. The preface and introduction of the published book read like a mystery adventure as Professor Gates reveals his multifaceted strategies to identify the real-life author and the real-life characters of her book.

What does it mean to enslave another human being? Sometimes a novel is the only way for me to get at the emotional heart of a horrible truth. That’s why I loved this book–an imaginary region of Virginia before the Civil War introduced me to Henry Townsend, a freed Black man who owned an entire plantation of other Black men, women, and children.

I couldn’t stop thinking of Moses, Augustus, Celeste, and all of the people who fought their way through to, finally, emancipation. Some people compare Edward P. Jones’ work to Faulkner's in the way he creates a complete and completely convincing world.

This novel traces the coming of age of the only child, a daughter, of a very traditional Episcopal priest. He struggles with depression, a failed marriage, and his work. She struggles to keep up her father’s spirits and tend to his household, as well as with the abandonment of them by her mother and with the question of who she shall be when she isn’t just tending to her dad. Ultimately, she arrives at a calling of her own. It’s a warm-hearted, leisurely novel that also can be quite comical about church people and human interaction of all kinds, but also treats faith seriously. (There’s also a good sequel that takes us into her ministry, Evensong.)     

Sometimes called the female version of Tom Jones, Moll loses her mother (who is a convict) and eventually suffers the complications of being female when she falls in love and becomes pregnant by someone who can’t marry. Things go from bad to worse when she marries someone she doesn’t love, and faces instability all over again when she becomes a widow.

Thus begins her adventuring to find a husband who will give her the security she needs to survive. She burns through a bevvy of men who disappoint her on many accounts and has—and abandons—children at a remarkable rate as she learns the tricks of a con artist’s ways.

This book would be interesting to read in tandem with Tom Jones to consider why Moll is a less enamouring character than Tom.

I read Life on the Color Line as a junior in high school. I was amazed by William’s intimate account of having lived, first as a white boy in America, and then, as a Black boy in America. His life story illuminates not only the fiction that “race” is biological and immutable, but the powerful reality of white supremacy. Little did I know when reading Williams’s book that I would one day give birth to a son this society deems to be white. This is, in many ways, a painful book, but it is also one about the power of love and community. The love and community Williams found is what led him to share his story, which is a necessary and crucial reminder to challenge racism at its root.