The most recommended books on the history of lynching

A bravura performance by a brilliant author with total control of her writing skills and an exhaustive mastery of literary traditions, which she deploys with the panache of Horowitz playing Chopin.

Oates has written a neo-Gothic novel filled with demonic manifestations and overwhelming passions that take place against the background of American society (and Princeton University) with all its salient characteristics and problems in the first decade of the 20th century. 

The novel is also, and not incidentally, filled with wonderful, three-dimensional portraits of major American cultural and political figures of the time—Woodrow Wilson, Upton Sinclair, Mark Twain, Teddy Roosevelt, Jack London, and others. Oates’ emotional range is marvelous, and she can communicate the feelings and psychic churnings of a stiff Calvinist on a pulpit as readily as those of a tremulous young woman in a rose garden.

A funny, eerie, assured, and extraordinarily entertaining work.

Throughout the 1960s, NASA tried in vain to lure Black engineers to its Southern Centers.

The agency had its excuses, but as I began to talk to NASA’s Black pioneers, I began hearing vivid descriptions of the terror that kept their friends from going to work with them at NASA. This thought-provoking examination of one of the darkest chapters in American history helps lay out a source of their reticence.

The book delves deep into the socio-political, racial, and cultural factors that led to the widespread practice of lynching. Brundage skillfully portrays the complex web of prejudice, fear, and power dynamics that fueled this brutal form of violence. Through his detailed analysis, we gain a chilling picture and the backstory of what kept NASA so White.

“War is hell” is a phrase heard often enough that’s now a bloodless abstraction you think but never feel. This epic World War II novel by the Pulitzer-winning columnist does not let readers off so easily.

The book’s title refers to humanity and sense of self, serving up graphic descriptions of the sort of brutality usually described in politely neutered legalese. But not here. And it does the same with Jim Crow-era lynchings in the American South, connecting everything as part of the human race’s ongoing struggle.

The best “difficult” read I’ve encountered in years.

In this tract, Wells became the first person, Black or white, to distribute a systematically researched explanation for the rise in lynchings in the South during the late nineteenth century. Wells’s investigation into lynchings across the South countered the image perpetuated by the media that Black males possessed an uncontrolled sexual desire for white women. Instead, Wells noted that lynchings were a form of terrorism; acts of racial violence intended to maintain white economic, social, and political power. It was a gutsy move for a young, southern, Black woman, and it resulted in her being exiled from the South for fear of her life. The truths she exposed resonated with the Civil Rights Movement and reverberate in modern times as we consider race, Black masculinity, police authority, and legal equality.

This is a poet's novel, but it plunges me into a world that is all too real; East Texas a century ago, and at the same time the problems of identity and prejudice and cruelty that still haunt us today.

It is also a moving love story. Half Choctaw, half white, the conflicted hero finds the woman of his dreams; but she is white, and they must flee a lynching. Revised and republished, this book combines delicate psychological and historical insights with searing suspense.

I attended a university just down the road from Marion, Indiana, the site of an infamous lynching of two Black men (and the attempted lynching of a third) in 1930.

The prison from which these men were forcibly taken still stands on the main square in Marion. Many textbooks use the grisly photograph that Lawrence Beitler took of this event to illustrate the horrors of violence against African-Americans in postbellum United States.

Madison deftly weaves the lives, stories, and memories of resilient Black residents of Marion today with the story of the hate-filled mob that lynched Abram Smith and Thomas Shipp and the aftermath of the event in the community to illustrate that individual choices matter, and that how we view the past is shaped profoundly by historical trauma. 

Most people’s idea of lynching is the sanitized version that they have picked up from movies and TV. However, the practice of lynching, as it was carried out in the United States from the late 19th to well into the 20th century, was far more hideous than a few people hanging a man from a tree. This classic contribution concentrates on spectacle lynchings. These were public lynchings attended by hundreds or even thousands of spectators. They involved hours of torture and bodily mutilation, often culminating in the victim being burned alive. Lynching and Spectacle is a vital read for anyone wishing to understand the full horror of American Racism.

Can I “love” a book when it is so painful to read? I do, though, in the way of admiration for the compelling writing on one of the most depraved outcomes of racism: lynchings. Even worse, Branan’s own ancestors turned out to be involved. This 1912 lynching was of four Black people, including one woman, all of whom were involved in trying to protect a young Black girl against predation by a white man, another of the author’s relatives.

All this occurred in a rough moonshine-making area of Georgia. Growing up in Birmingham, I never knew there were places in the South where white men used their power to openly keep Black women and the children they had together in second homes. That didn’t mean, of course, that the men weren’t racist.

We must remember that 1919 also saw unprecedented widespread bloodshed in attacks on Black communities. This wave of violence is remembered as the Red Summer not because it coincided with the Red Scare, but because the worst of it occurred in and around that summer. Krugler gives us the national saga but helpfully zooms in to some of the major clashes to help us understand why and how they occurred – and most of all – how Blacks fought back through self-defense, the Black press, and the courts.

In my own work, I draw extensively on the lynching to document and analyze racial dehumanization. From the time of the collapse of reconstruction during the late nineteenth century until well into the twentieth century, thousands of African Americans, most of them men, were murdered by white mobs. If you are like most people, you think of lynching as nothing more than extrajudicial execution, but in fact it often involved hours of the most hideous torture imaginable, ending with the victim being burned alive before a crowd of hundreds or even thousands of avid spectators. Philip Dray’s book is a fine entry point into the historical literature on lynching.