New Books in American Studies

Many Americans tend to think of 1776 as the year when the United States began making history on its own terms. That is simply untrue. Building on recent scholarship that challenges this assumption is Eliga Gould’s Among the Powers of the Earth: The American Revolution and the Making of a New World Empire (Harvard University Press, 2012). Gould seeks to correct this anachronistic tendency by placing the nascent American state in the context of its time, artfully dissecting the rhetoric and writing of early American citizens and statesmen. Though many of the founding fathers wrote and spoke optimistically about the prospects and goals of the new nation, the success and future of the nation was far from certain. Gould acknowledges this and deftly couches such rhetoric in the reality that the only way for the United States to achieve these goals was to “conform to European norms and expectations.” That the Americans were trying to establish themselves as a nation among other nations, he contends, was no minor consideration. It was a necessity upon which the commercial and political future of the nation hinged. The founders understood this well, as Gould skillfully showcases via a scrupulous survey of contemporary sources. Thus, this quest for legitimacy––what Gould terms “treaty-worthiness”––had a profound influence on the creation of early American republic. Placing the American Revolution in an Atlantic context makes this book a fun and informative read. Departing from the typical narrative of the thirteen colonies allows Gould to bring in a variety of characters and stories that do not often appear in traditional histories of the Revolution––from French Acadians and their forcible removal from Nova Scotia to African slaves in the Caribbean, maroon communities, and absentee sugar planters living in London­­––offering a more comprehensive view of the Revolution and its meaning across the entire British Empire. Gould’s masterful command of primary sources and his adroit ability as an author make this work enjoyable for both students of history and general readers alike.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Sociology] Racism is a process by which people are segregated and discriminated against based on their race, and race is defined as a set of physical characteristics which certain groups share. Or is it?  In Racecraft: The Soul of Inequality in American Life (Verso Books, 2012), Karen E. Fields and Barbara J. Fields argue that racism does not come from race. In fact, racism is the very act of creating race, by transforming it from something an aggressor does, into something the target is. So-called physical characteristics are red herrings in the discourse, conveniently there to justify certain kinds of racism, but certainly not necessary for them (anti-Semitism being an example). In this highly original book, the Fields’ draw a fascinating parallel between our everyday concept of race and the outdated notion of witchcraft, two beliefs firmly held by the societies which birthed them, reproduced and recreated in daily life  by what was, in their time, “evidence,”  and both which are, quite plainly, false. This is a fascinating book about the power that racecraft and other delusions have on all of us, and more importantly, how to defeat them. In this interview, we talk with Karen E. Fields about this important new book.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Islamic Studies] In 2005, Amina Wadud led a mixed-gender congregation of Muslims in prayer. This event became the focal point of substantial media attention and highlighted some of the tensions within the Muslim community. However, this prayer gathering was the culmination of a series of events and embodied several ongoing intra-Muslim debates. In American Muslim Women, Religious Authority, and Activism: More Than a Prayer (University of Texas Press, 2012), Juliane Hammer, Professor of Islamic Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, outlines the circumstances leading up to the prayer event and employs it as point of convergence to explore the multiple discourses surrounding Muslim gender issues. The debates following the prayer fell into two discursive frameworks, legal and symbolic. Hammer explores these themes through a broader body of sources written by American Muslim women both in relation to exegetical projects or legalistic frameworks leading towards gender equality or human rights. While gender remains central to the arguments of the book Hammer uses this subject to examine various issues related to contemporary Islam, including participation, leadership, law, media, and self-representation. In our conversation, we discuss the disintegration of traditional modes of authority, “progressive” Muslims, embodied tafsir, feminism, the permissibility and validity of women lead prayer, the hijab, book covers, mosques, networks, Asra Nomani, and Amina Wadud, but are only able to scratch the surface of this wonderful book.

[Cross-posted from New Books in History] I used to live in Washington DC, not far from a place I learned to call the “U Street Corridor.” I really had no idea why it was a “corridor” (most places in DC are just “streets”) or why a lot of folks seemed to make a big deal out if it. Don’t get me wrong. It was nice. There are coffee shops, jazz clubs, and the place is full of beautiful late Victorian architecture. But I confess I really didn’t understand what the “U Street Corridor” was. Having read Blair Ruble‘s terrific Washington’s U Street: A Biography (Johns Hopkins UP/Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2010), I can confidently say that now I get it. U Street was arguably the first urban area in the post-bellum United States in which African Americans formed a vital, sophisticated, wealthy, and identifiably modern “negro” (as they would have said) culture. Today we take it for granted that African Americans make a vital contribution to the cultural life (though not only that) of the United States. At the end of the Civil War, that wasn’t so. The vast majority of Blacks were southern, rural, and poor. If they appeared on the stage of national culture (and they almost never did), it was through the devices of minstrels in black-face.  As Ruble points out, all that changed on U Street in the early 20th century, the birthplace of modern African American culture. Now I know, and I’m glad I do. Read the book, and you’ll know to0.  

[Cross-posted from New Books in Sports] During this week of the 4th of July, it’s appropriate to mark America’s national holiday with a podcast about that most American of sports: college football.  As past guests on the podcast have explained, widely followed, revenue-generating sports teams affiliated with universities are a distinctive feature of American sports culture, and college football has long been regarded as the one sport that best demonstrates American values.  For outsiders, a useful analogy to understand American college football’s popularity and cultural importance might be European football.  Like the soccer clubs of Europe, many college football teams date back to the 19th century, with long-standing rivalries and traditions.  The teams have unbreakable connections to particular localities, unlike American professional franchises that are sold, bought, and moved.  Generations of supporters attend Saturday games at storied grounds.  Dressed in team colors, they sing songs and perform other time-honored rituals.  And like European football, American college football is still fundamentally regional in organization.  Teams compete in various leagues, planted in specific parts of the country, with the top teams in the table advancing to national games.  College football fans tend to identify with the teams of their own regional league, arguing vigorously that “our” brand of football is better than “theirs.”  Of course, American college football teams are also like European soccer clubs in that they bring in a lot of money, from tickets, television, and branded merchandise.  According to one estimate, the top programs in American college football—if they could ever be sold—would be worth as much as clubs like Manchester City, Inter Milan, and Olympique Lyon. But of course, these teams can’t be sold.  Even though they draw hundreds of thousands of spectators in the fall season, millions of television viewers, and tens of millions of dollars in revenue, college football teams are the property of institutions of higher education, many of which are public, taxpayer-funded entities.  Other nations have sports teams affiliated with universities.  But only in the United States have college athletics become such a prominent part of the sports landscape.  The history of how this curious system emerged is surprising. In his book The Rise of Gridiron University: Higher Education’s Uneasy Alliance with Big-Time Football (University Press of Kansas, 2012), Brian Ingrassia shows that the early history of American football and the early history of the American university were intertwined.  As universities developed, and faculties and administrators sought to give them a public face, they saw football as a means of gaining the allegiance of people who would likely never visit a lecture hall or laboratory.  They argued that football was beneficial to players and spectators alike.  There were critics who warned of the dangers of football, and for a brief time in the early 20th century some West Coast schools even adopted rugby as an alternative.  But by the Twenties and Thirties college football was firmly established and hugely popular across the country.  Snobby academics today will grumble about the scourge of big-time college football.  However, the blame for its rise falls not on coaches, players, and boosters, but on university presidents and professors.

[Cross-posted from New Books in Native American Studies] The birth of the American republic produced immense and existential challenges to Native people in proximity to the fledgling nation. Perhaps none faced a greater predicament than the Six Nations of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy (popularly known as the Iroquois). Divided by the U.S.-English conflict, their landbase ransacked by American soldiers and speculators, their once considerable political power reduced, and their culture threatened by an influx of zealous missionaries — such is what historian Matthew Dennis in his powerful new book, Seneca Possessed: Indians, Witchcraft, and Power in the Early American Republic (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010), has termed “the colonial crucible.” Yet, Dennis persuades us, “the Seneca story is not mere prologue.” One of the Six Nations residing in what became western New York State, the Seneca adapted to the invasion of their homeland, building upon elements of their culture and selectively embracing change to survive the economic and political transformations of the post-Revolutionary period. The revelations of the Seneca prophet Handsome Lake, blended with elements of Christianity, yielded a new and powerful religion that rejected white degradation. But in the process, the prophet challenged the powerful position of women in Seneca society, as accusations of witchcraft – newly focused on women – led to violence. As western New York continues its decades long process of deindustrialization, losing population with every closed down factory, the Seneca Nation remains, vibrant as ever. Matthew Dennis’ fascinating new book helps us see just how they did.