100 books like The Latino Threat

In 1881, a reporter described Texas as a “vast wilderness” that was “infested by roaming Mexicans, rattlesnakes, and braying jackasses.”

In other words, it was a land calling for white people to settle, civilize, and supplant the “indolent” Mexican. I was jolted by this and other visceral literary snippets, which De Leon drew from nineteenth-century travelogues, letters, and newspaper articles.

The book exposes the power of the printed word in forming and perpetuating early Euro-American stereotypes claiming Mexican Americans in Texas were unpatriotic, mixed blood, lazy, immoral, and cruel. Writing in 1983, De Leon concluded that these attitudes had shifted into subtler modern racism.

Yet the lynching of Mexican Americans persists in the nation’s second-largest state, with more than 23 massacred in a white supremacist attack at an El Paso Walmart in 2019.

The compelling, digestible, and often dangerous metaphor is the star of Brown Tide Rising.

Santa Ana clearly explains that it is the mediated metaphor that embeds itself in our brains, cementing ideas and tropes. Looking at Latino metaphors in historical issues of the Los Angeles Times, he offers a new application for linguist George Lakoff’s cognitive model of metaphor, which studies how metaphors map to each other.

For instance, Santa Ana identifies “flowing waters” as one such metaphoric tie-in that joins metaphors such as tides, surges, waves. I like this book because it is a great reminder about how the images conjured by words—in this case metaphors—make us “see” the world in certain ways. 

Lee & Low, the book’s publisher, describes Shame the Stars as a YA Romeo & Juliet story. This piece of historical fiction is so much more.

It draws on true stories of how Texas Rangers lynched and pillaged Mexican Americans in South Texas. These are stories that my parents heard growing up in San Antonio, Texas, and that were often orally passed on in families, though not so often in the history books of that era.

This novel is on my list because it flips the camera angle on images of Mexican Americans in media, with characters taking to the printing press to assert their rights and tell their stories. One such journalist/protagonist is the father of the character Juliet/Dulceña, who illuminates the misdeeds of the Rangers in his news accounts.

Without giving too much away, I’ll merely hint that the book draws inspiration from the long overlooked crusading Mexican… show more.

During a period when Mexican American women were seen as having only three possible roles in life, either as hypersexualized figures, maids, or beauty queens, this stirring biography uncovers how one Latina, Adela Sloss-Vento, broke the mold.

She had only a high school education—and one belatedly received at that, but Sloss-Vento became a public intellectual and a vital, though hidden figure in the emerging Mexican American Civil Rights Movement. Reading this stimulating biography, I found it easy to see Sloss-Vento (1901-1998), sitting at her kitchen table writing spirited columns and letters in defense of Mexican Americans to English and Spanish Texas newspaper editors.

Though Mexican American women didn’t begin entering into mainstream journalism jobs in any sizeable numbers until the 1980s, Sloss-Vento’s story shows how at least one Latina beat back the barriers and made her own way into print.

The Race Beat quickly turns to open conflict. White-owned media wake up to the atrocities of racism. (It was way past time to pay attention. Exploring that is among the reasons I appreciate the book.) What follows seem like war movies.

We learn just how hard it was to get the story, photograph, or film; get the story out; get yourself out. Journalists for the white-owned Northern press, black-owned press, and TV networks are assaulted by enraged mobs during the Montgomery bus boycott, Central High School’s desegregation in Little Rock, Arkansas; James Meredith’s enrollment at the University of Mississippi; and Freedom Rides into Anniston and Birmingham, Alabama.

They dodge attack dogs and fire hoses in Birmingham and club-wielding ”posse men” in Selma. They persist. They make a daily record. Without them, the movement would have been “a bird without wings,” said John Lewis, Freedom Rider (and later, US senator). 

Captivity Beyond Prisons blew me away in its explanations of criminalized deportation and the “good immigrant/bad immigrant binary” that has all too often defined immigration rights advocacy.

While familiar with this binary, I had never seen it so clearly explained before reading this book, particularly in its arguments about how women, imprisoned, and gender-non-conforming immigrants are commonly categorized as undeserving and expendable.

The included stories of Latina women impacted by intertwining systems of immigration and criminal justice enforcement affected me greatly, as did the argument that frameworks of prison abolition—which view all people as deserving of humanity, including those deemed “criminals”—should be further adopted in the fight for immigrant rights.

This book is distinctive in its focus on non-citizen women affected by the criminal justice system, which I have rarely seen elsewhere.

As with physique photographs, I never associated murder with gay history, but newspapers were full of reports of it, often in coded and lewd language, as early as the 1920s. The cases were virtually identical. An older man meets a younger, attractive one and invites him home. In a fit of “homosexual panic” after the older man’s “indecent advance” toward him, the younger kills the older but, tried, is found innocent, given a light sentence, or paroled. Juries, judges, newspaper reporters, and the police engaged in and promoted such extreme homophobia. Indecent Advances helped me understand a principal excuse our society used in an attempt to cover up its hatred of gay men. 

Since John Hersey’s Hiroshima is my top book pick about the Hiroshima bombing, it makes sense that Fallout is another favorite.

Blume uses her journalistic talents to take the reader on a thrilling journey through the U.S. Government's attempts to cover up the horrific effects of the blast and its aftermath and the efforts to keep secret Hersey’s necessary article about Hiroshima right up to its publication.

Many believe the lessons in Hiroshima served as a deterrent that has kept the atomic warfare genie in its bottle for all these many years. Fallout tells the story of just how difficult it was to pull that off. Buckle up.

This book was a lifesaver for me as I began to explore media-military relations about a decade ago.

Briefly but authoritatively Sweeney charts the relationship between the American military and the media from the Revolutionary War to the early twenty-first century. Sweeney, a former journalist himself, also writes well and this is a joy to read.

The subtitle suggests Sweeney’s take on the subject, and Sweeney’s work generally has been invaluable to me and this book would be the place to start for anyone interested in the subject.  

Moseley was the Chief European Correspondent for The Chicago Tribune for the last forty years of the twentieth century and although published by a university press is more a work of journalism than original scholarship. 

It is based largely on the memoirs of an extraordinary number of reporters, many American but many more not. The real virtue of this book is how wide-ranging it is, covering the entire war and reporters from all of the combatant countries.

Readers get a vivid sense of how World War II was just that—a war that raged across the globe.