Attending to “the forms and institutional contexts” that characterized antebellum African American men’s writing, Pratt identifies a political-aesthetic project that he terms “stranger humanism.”
For Brooks, antebellum political abolitionists—not the Populists, not the Progressives—deserve to be remembered as “the most important third-party movement in American history.”
Sometimes un-knowing our learned assumptions . . . “requires both the associative and the imaginative flexibilities of intellectual and speculative history, respectively.”
New things are happening with the Stamp Act, and this volume should signal to a broad range of scholars that 1765 is a good year for deep thinking.
Cohen looks at how readers forged social connections through poems—by reading them aloud, recopying them, buying and selling them.
David Shields’s book about Southern foodways contains the seeds of many future conversations.
The book is both an intersectional study of crime and an intersectional study of gender, poverty, and class.
When editorial work is done well, it prods you toward a new way of thinking about a text or set of texts without closing down other interpretive possibilities.
As I read this book in the midst of yet another presidential election cycle, it was nearly impossible not to find strong parallels between these figures and our own presidential candidates.
In taking seriously northern Republicans’ egalitarian ideals and the world-historical significance they attributed to the Union, Riley offers an important corrective to scholarship that exaggerates the political influence of racism.