100 books like River of Smoke

Having long wondered about how our world has been shaped by such commodities as tea, coffee, and sugar, I was fascinated by this carefully researched study of how cotton has shaped our world since the first cotton clothing 5,000 years ago in (what is now called) Pakistan.

The great thing about this book is its global reach, following cotton around the world as folks learned how to use it. While this is serious academic research, the author’s ability to relate local lives and key individuals to the broader forces shaping the globalizing cotton market keeps the story humming along.

I learned how British military power was key to Britain’s ability to relocate the global heart of cotton textile production from India to Manchester, boosting European wealth by deindustrializing India—a reminder that who wins and loses crucially depends on political power, not just market forces.

I found this to be such a fun read, trying to solve a geographical mystery. I knew that China was a seafaring country before Europe, but this transformed my understanding.

Drawing on his experience as a sailor, Menzies reinterprets Chinese naval documents to narrate how its "treasure ships"—much bigger than Columbus’ boats—visited Asia, Africa, Australia, and possibly North America long before 1492. Before Europeans became colonizers, the Chinese Emperor decided to stop such explorations. Before 1492, China was more prosperous and sophisticated than Europe, but the Chinese emperor’s decision left the global playing field open for Europe to exploit.

I found this book eye-opening; it forced me to rethink what I knew about Europe’s success.

We think of Europe (and the US) as being successful because of its culture, religion, democratic capitalism, and/or climate. Blaut challenges such Eurocentrist presumptions by documenting Europe’s geographical good fortune. It was much easier to reach the Americas from Europe than from its 15th-century Asian competitors (China and India), enabling Europe to overtake these by exploiting the Americas.

I came to realize that Europe’s prosperity, and that of its former white colonies (the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand), was due to good luck, not simply European initiative.

I found this book so interesting because it documents how European prosperity was also shaped by deep historical ties with Asia. Digging through a huge trove of historical archives, the authors document how Genghis Khan and the Mongol Empire brought capitalist practices to Europe in the 13th century.

It’s not an easy read, but I found that careful study pays off because it offers such an original perspective on Europe’s success. I liked how their evidence buttresses Blaut’s more speculative critique of Eurocentrism, also extending it by showing that Asian initiative shaped European success—it was not just colonialism and slavery.

Sea of Poppies is the first of Amitav Ghosh’s Ibis Trilogy—an epic of global opium trade that features Zachary Reid, a mixed-race American whose story unfolds as it connects Baltimore to Bengal to Canton across the Atlantic and Indian Oceans.  

Filled with heartbreak and humor the trilogy invokes Herman Melville’s Moby Dick as Ghosh revives the primary sources of the Old China Trade and brings them into refreshing literary life. 

Ghosh’s novel complements another (very different) gem of historically based literary fiction featuring American involvement in opium smuggling and the ensuing First Opium War: Timothy Mo’s Insular Possession. 

Set in the present-day cosmopolitan city of Mumbai, India, the novel follows the lives of two women: Serabai Dubash, a middle-class widow, and her maidservant, Bhima. The pair experience similar situations in their lives: abuse, the death or absence of a husband, and the longing for a better future. They both have pregnant daughters, a fact that becomes significant as the novel progresses.

This book shows us the difficulties faced by women in Indian society but also their courage. Ultimately it is an upbeat book with great spirit. The plot twist at the end, and the resolution, blew me away. 

As a sucker for beautiful writing, this book had me from the first page, and I couldn’t put it down. So many issues that had been part of my childhood culture resonated with me while it also showed me many others from a part of India that I had never even visited. 

Though sweeping in its scope, it drills down into a very human story with all its pain and love. It weaves myth, story, real life, love, loss, and the meaning of family. It was one of the first novels by an Indian woman that transcended cultures, gender, and any preconceived notions.

If you’re not a dyed-in-the-wool historical fiction reader, you might think Jane Austen retellings aren’t for you. That’s only because you haven’t read The Heiress yet. This stunning, dreamy, gothic-infused book takes a minor character from Pride and Prejudice who hardly gets any lines and spins up a story about finding your voice in a world that wants to keep you silent. Anne’s struggle against addiction and desperate desire to embrace the beauty of life feels like it could have taken place yesterday. Also, it’s got lesbian yearning that’s both sweet and sexy, aka the dream. Give me that queer pining, please and thank you. 

This novel is sometimes described as the Victorian Pride and Prejudice, and it’s true there are many similarities.

Margaret Hale moves with her parents from rural southern England to a northern manufacturing town and experiences profound culture shock. She spars with John Thornton, the wealthy owner of a cotton mill, whose outlook and opinions are very different from her own.

In time their antagonism gives way to mutual understanding, and finally to love. But North and South isn’t only a love story.

There’s the ongoing conflict between the mill workers and the owners, and Margaret’s discoveries about herself as she begins to find ways to help the downtrodden. Gaskell was a minister’s wife in Manchester and interested in social reforms.

In this novel she explores many issues that are still relevant today. The book delves more deeply into the spiritual lives of the characters than does the BBC mini-series… show more.

Wilkerson’s scholarship on race and injustice is certainly not a secret, but I still find some colleagues who have not yet read this book.

To convince people to pick it up, I promise that its language is poetic and imminently accessible, and I share the two pieces that have remained top of mind for years: first, Wilkerson’s research about the lessons Nazi Germany took from the racial caste system of Jim Crow United States, and second, the way she crafts an analogy of a crumbling house to make the case for reparations for racist harm, which—like cracks in the foundation of a house you just bought—may not be your fault but are still your problem.

I am forever grateful to Wilkerson for gifting us her insights and rhetorical tools, conveyed so skillfully in this tremendous contribution.