Fans pick 100 books like Shake Hands with the Devil

The aftermath of the Great War for wounded and shattered soldiers is carefully examined in this comparative study of two belligerent nations. The great paradox recorded here is how British veterans struggled on the margins of their society, denied legal rights and employment support, while, through state programs, German disabled veterans were more likely reintegrated into their economy. “Disabled veterans,” Cohen concludes in this fascinating study, “were the Great War’s conspicuous legacy.” Tragically, the same might be said of subsequent major armed conflicts. What I got from this book is the absolute importance of decisions following the Great War in shaping the indifference and support toward veterans over the twentieth century and into the twenty-first.  

The development of military neuropsychiatry in the Mediterranean and European theatres of operations in World War II, through the work of the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps is vividly recounted through interviews and primary documents of those involved. The immediately pressing concepts of battle stress and exhaustion and a soldier’s breaking point are addressed by scientific methods, including personnel selection interviews by psychiatrists to determine the emotional and temperamental stability of recruits and thus their assumed effectiveness as soldiers. Fundamental tensions between military imperatives and clinical practices are particularly revealed. I highly recommend this book for its insights into the tensions between medical intentions and military imperatives at times of intense, sustained combat.

This consummate French philosopher explores the lineage of psychiatry as an intertwined field of knowledge and form of power. For Foucault, moving beyond asylums, in the nineteenth and twentieth century armies called on psychiatry to assert the reality of military power and the functioning of military purposes. A similar relationship has taken place with the family in relation to nation-states and military establishments. The author provides many useful concepts to appreciate the psychiatrization of soldiers as shocked, exhausted, hysterical, neurotic, and traumatized, among other diagnostic categories. From this work, a significant value I gained is a historical understanding of how modern psychiatry developed in relation to armed forces and warfare.

As American veterans and academics, both authors personally and professionally know the subject of modern warfare, stress disorders, and military mental health. This book examines the invisible injuries of psychiatric casualties from combat. The authors scrutinize what they call the dark side of military mental health and, in considerable detail, expose this darkness, which they show to be systemic and multifaceted in how it inflicts wounds on military personnel. The book ends with options for changing military mental healthcare and moving toward a resilient and mentally healthy military.  I appreciate this book because it demonstrates from the perspective of insiders how military culture and practices continue to harm those veterans with invisible wounds.   

The UN’s failure to prevent or stop the 1994 genocide in Rwanda is one of the darkest episodes in the organization’s history. Salton locates some of the responsibility for this failure in the inter-departmental rivalries within the UN Secretariat, in particular, between the Department of Peacekeeping Operations and the Department of Political Affairs. 

Based on the memoirs of Marrack Goulding, a Briton who served as the first head of the Department of Peacekeeping Operations when it was created in 1992, the book sheds light on member states’ interference in the UN’s work. It also explores tensions between UN headquarters in New York and the leadership of the UN peacekeeping operation in Rwanda, as well as between the diplomatic and military leadership in the operation itself. Imprecise responsibilities, unclear lines of command, competing priorities, and personal jealousies contributed to the 1994 tragedy. 

The author, a Tutsi genocide survivor, was once a young Rwandan politician who deeply admired Paul Kagame and seemed destined for prominent public office. Instead, from his position as parliamentary speaker, he watched as his hero steadily emasculated the judiciary, undermined the country’s Hutu president – a symbol of ethnic reconciliation - and sabotaged parliamentary democracy itself,  eventually fleeing the country when his own life was threatened. His book not only offers great insights into the workings of village life in a tiny African country traumatized by its violent past, it’s a step-by-step analysis of how a dictatorship takes cynical, relentless hold.

John Buchan served in the War Propaganda Bureau during WWI, crafting press releases that sought to preserve public morale against the terrible losses on the Western Front. Already a successful novelist, he created a new character named Richard Hannay who starred in his 1915 adventure thriller The Thirty Nine Steps. Hannay was so popular that Buchan revived him for a 1916 sequel set in the Ottoman Empire that proved an enduring classic: Greenmantle. Through his work in intelligence and propaganda, Buchan was aware of British war planners’ concerns that the Ottoman call for jihad that followed their declaration of war might provoke colonial Muslims to rise against the Entente Powers in India, Egypt, North Africa, and the Caucasus. He captured British fears of an Ottoman-inspired jihad inflaming Indian Muslims with the memorably Orientalist line: “There is a dry wind blowing through the East, and the parched grasses wait the spar.… show more.

It is one of the most emotionally challenging reads I have ever read. This book is a bone-chilling dissection of how teachers, peasants, and shopkeepers in apparently peaceful farmlands in Southern Rwanda went from sharing harvests and drinking with their neighbors to becoming their pitiless executioners. “Killing was less wearisome than farming,” one of the protagonists remembers during testimonies that I have wrestled with since first encountering them.

The book is the second installment in Hatzfeld’s trilogy on the Rwandan Genocide and relies almost entirely on interviews with the perpetrators in one community. I find it extraordinarily lucid in explaining how grand ideological narratives around identity politics and history interact with petty grievances and the most recognizable of desires to enable mass murder.

This is a beautifully written account of how 8-year-old Jeanne d'Arc Umubyeyi (Dédé) escaped the 1994 massacre of the Tutsi ethnic group at the hands of the Huti tribe. Jeanne was the only member of her family to survive. The horror of what she went through is vividly recounted in Jeanne’s words and those of her adoptive mother Hanna Jansen, who adopted her and brought her to Germany. 

It is a very powerful, true, story. I had heard of the Rwandan massacre, but knew little about it till I read this novel. 

I love the book and have re-read it several times. Young adults will identify strongly with both Jeanne and Hanna.

So many books have been written about the 1994 genocide in Rwanda since this came out, but for me it still effortlessly holds its own: clear, accessible, immensely insightful in the way it traces cause and effect. Make sure you buy the second edition, though, as French historian Prunier revised some key views over the years, including his opinion on who brought down the plane in which two African presidents died – the incident that triggered the genocide. The book is the perfect companion piece for Prunier’s follow-up tome, which pans back to examine not just Rwanda but the entire Great Lakes region during the turbulent post-genocide years: “From Genocide to Continental War. The “Congolese” Conflict and the Crisis of Contemporary Africa.”