100 books like The New War on the Poor

I don’t believe anyone can consider themselves a serious student of American history or a true critic of American foreign policy without having read and absorbed Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States. Zinn writes as a masterful historian and an unflinching critic of the inequity and brutality of the American system, both aspects of the country’s history he brought to light at a time when others neglected to do so.

He brought voice to the voiceless and paved the way for the dozens of equally valuable critical voices that came after him. Zinn was the original people’s historian; his book simply cannot be missed.

When I started researching the slave trade in the mid-2000s, there wasn’t a great deal of historical work that examined the realities of the trade for its enslaved victims, nor the merchants who organized it.

I therefore had to turn to Barry Unsworth’s exceptional 1993 novel Sacred Hunger, to gain insight into the slave trade’s gruesome realities. Unsworth undertook deep historical research before writing Sacred Hunger, which examines the fictional slaving voyage of the Liverpool Merchant.

The novel vividly exposes the violence, misery, and death that was at the trade’s core, as well as enslaved people’s constant attempts to resist their captivity. He also paints an accurate portrait of slaving merchants’ chilling rationality and “Sacred Hunger” for personal profit, regardless of what achieving that ambition costs in human lives.

In my youth, the “Age of Discovery” launched by Columbus’s 1492 arrival in the “New World” and perpetuated by European imperialism through the mid-20th century, was characterized as a “civilizing mission.”

McClintock’s superb interdisciplinary scholarship provides a markedly different assessment of settler colonialism, a global order that legitimates white, male control of colonized women and men. Attained by violence, these stratified systems are sustained through capitalist economic relations secured by “voluntary” contract.

The book illuminates how the invention of race not only enabled European men to own and manage 85% of the earth’s surface by the end of the 19th century but also police the “dangerous classes,” the working class, the Irish, Jews, prostitutes, feminists, gays and lesbians, criminals, and anti-imperialists within their own nations.

Americans are reared on the myth that we are all created equal.

But this myth can have negative effects in a highly stratified society, where the richest 5% of families have 248 times as much wealth as the second richest 20% of the population and where racial discrimination permeates every aspect of life.

In this classic work, Lewis shows how the myth of equal opportunity “individualizes” success and failure. The belief that each individual earns success or is responsible for failure contributes to a public ethos in which the poor are blamed for their plight and the rich lack compassion for the worst off. 

The book illuminates the profound policy consequences of these beliefs for public education, crime, race relations, and poverty reduction.

Drawing on her first-hand experience of living in a shantytown in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Perlman powerfully upends many existing myths about the urban poor as marginal in this classic work.

This book, which inspired me to look beyond the economic models at how people actually live, shows how shantytown dwellers are integrated into society, but in a way that exploits and oppresses them economically and politically.

They are not socially and culturally marginal, but rather they are stigmatized and excluded from a closed social system that is radically unequal.

They are socially well-organized and cohesive; they aspire to educate their children and improve the quality of their homes; they work hard and take pride in a job well done. They are aware of and involved in those aspects of politics that affect their lives. 

If you want to get a taste of what life is like in a Rio favela, then this is the book for you. Based on years of meticulous fieldwork, Goldstein documents the hardships endured by a woman she befriended who works as a maid for a wealthy family in the city. More importantly, however, Goldstein’s book describes in detail how life in a Rio favela changed as violence associated with the drug trade overwhelms the community. When she began her fieldwork, in the early 1990s, Rio was enjoying a period of relative calm. By the end of the 90s, however, Goldstein could no longer risk visiting her friends for fear of her own personal safety. 

The improvised communities that ring the cities of Latin America have a bad reputation as squatter towns. Not so fast.

Look beyond the surface and you will see communities with strong social ties, systems of self-government, and residents who are as committed to their neighborhood as any American suburbanite. Janice Perlman has spent decades studying the Rio de Janeiro that lies behind its beaches, and gives a clear-eyed look at some of the self-built communities on the city’s edge.

I loved this book because, for the first time in my life, I understood that I was not the only broken and damaged person in the world.

Because of her honest portrayal, I felt less alone and more like there were other souls out there who understood my fears of not belonging, of not being able to be “good enough,” of not being wanted, and of being ignored by one parent while being belittled, abused, and blamed by the other.

Allison wrote clearly about the effects of poverty on family dynamics and the dysfunctional family and explained to me for the first time why I felt defective and why the rest of the world seemed so normal. It gave me hope. 

This book is a thrilling mystery wrapped in vivid detail. The readers’ hearts go out to Cora as she struggles to make sense of what her village leaders have always taught about their god, the Winter King. I admire how she never stops seeking to learn the truth the religious leaders are hiding from their people despite insurmountable odds. It is a powerful warning about trusting only what a small group of people say about God versus examining the scriptures yourself. No doubt Cohen was inspired by times in church history before the Reformation.

A book about empathy that is also a tribute to the power of imagination. A boy without much money tells his classmates he has a horse. A more well-to-do girl knows he is lying and can’t tolerate it. When she visits the boy at his home, she is able to see past herself and can begin to appreciate and enter into the boy’s reality. One thing I really love about this book is that it shows how much larger empathy can make us -- how that kind of openness in addition to making us kinder can also give access to joy.