American Ideologies and Cults: Exploring Cults Like Us by Jane Borden

 Cults Like Us: Why Doomsday Thinking Drives America by Jane Borden

Cults Like Us book cover

Author Jane Borden

Big thanks to Atria/One Signal Publishers and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Jane Borden’s Cults Like Us: Why Doomsday Thinking Drives America. This was a fascinating book, but also not quite what I expected for a book about cults in America. I am fascinated by cults and how people become involved in them, partly because it seems to strange and antithetical to me to completely give one’s self to a group. In fact, it seems somewhat unamerican to consider how one might lose themselves to a group and a guru, willing to engage in questionable behaviors and activities. Recent books like J. W. Ocker’s Cult Following provide an overview of some of the more notorious cults in recent years, while Amanda Montell’s Cultish examines how elements of cults are used in some more popular activities that we might not consider cults. In fact, Borden’s book seems to have more in common with Cultish in how she seeks to look at some of the conceptual markers of cults and find ways that American ideology and beliefs have largely incorporated this kind of thinking. That is, Cults Like Us seeks to define what and how cults operate, and then apply those definitions to other areas of American life and groups that we might not necessarily consider to be cults. It’s a fascinating way to re-examine what we consider to be American and the values that we often champion as making us an exceptional country (even if that mindset and perception is questionable, if not altogether gone with the current Trump dismantling, er uh, administration). I was a little surprised and challenged by this book since I assumed it would be more like case studies of different cults, but I found this book to be incredibly fascinating and enjoyed the challenge of expanding the conceptual markers of cults to other areas of American life. Borden uses both infamous and less familiar examples of cults and even some examples that we might not consider to be cults to make her argument about American’s have incorporated many of these elements into their lives, belief systems, and expectations for society and the groups they seek out.  Although she mentions MAGA, January 6^th, and QAnon a few times in the book, there are also many implicit examples of how Trump’s methods and approaches to cultivating a following employ many of the tactics that cult researchers have identified as markers of cults. What I found even more challenging and troubling was the notion that many of these elements have been a part of America’s founding, from both Columbus’s arrival in the Caribbean to the Puritan’s colonization of New England. The Author’s Note, Introduction and early chapters all detail how this kind of thinking was part of the reason for Europeans seeking out new land. Part of this is, what Borden calls, apocalyptic thinking, and she does a great job recontextualizing the definition to not just mean end times, but more like an uncovering or exposure of “the truth”, a revelation. According to Borden, Columbus’s trip to the New World was in part to hasten the second coming of Christ, while the Puritans also believed that the Catholic rule in Europe were also bringing about the end times. They, like Columbus, believed the Americas to be Eden like, a new land for a new start. Although their initial exposure to the land was rough, they began to incorporate beliefs and practices that not only focused on work and survival but also focused heavily on control of the group and regulation of behavior. It was fascinating to learn more about these historical figures and groups that Americans often see as heroic and unique, only to consider them in a new light that reconsiders their actions as both fearful and cultlike. In particular, the organization and practices of the puritan communities was shocking to learn more about, yet, many of us know the kind of violence and mayhem that was eventually led to the Salem Witch Trials and the deaths of 19 people from hanging and one from crushing stones. Nevertheless, Borden uses these historical figures and groups to help readers understand not only why Americans seek out groups with high control, but also how it has become such a part of American culture, and, in her conclusion and later chapters may be a general feature of human behavior.

Other chapters in the book look at other cult elements including how we often look for strongmen or a kind of singular hero to save us from impending doom. As Borden cites other cults and groups who use these kinds of threats to better empower and enable the strongman’s control of others and strict regulation of their behavior. It’s that fear that is the mind killer and hastens the death of the individual and submission or conformity to the group. Again, although he is mentioned several times, it was somewhat scary to think about the implications behind these examples and how there are current, modern correlates in today’s politics. It also made me wonder whether Donald Trump really loves the country with how often he lambasts it and describes the world as such a hellscape. His perception of America, as someone who is largely privileged and has access to exclusive experiences and resources, is much different from mine. Regardless, Borden shares these important insights to further recognize that the current political and cultural landscape is not too different from other eras in American history and is largely representative of the kind of American thinking that has been a part of the initial colonizers who brought religion, culture and ethos to the shores of America. Again, it’s kind of eerie how both natural and man-made events (war) tend to hasten this kind of thinking of end times and how easily people abandon rationality and look to strongmen and groups for protection. It’s also scary how these kinds of events can be both manipulated and manufactured to create conditions of pliability and fear to empower leaders and strongmen. Another chapter focuses on the idea of exceptionalism or being a chosen one, which again seems like an element of both organized religion and more recent ideas of politics. It helps to also create a division between believers and nonbelievers that leaders exploit to further insulate their group and possibly bend them to take action against nonbelievers who might be deemed as threats (sounding familiar?). This also comes up in Chapter 6, where Borden presents an “Us vs. Them” ideology. However, I really enjoyed the lesser known cult examples she shares to highlight instances of these practices. The one example from this chapter on the Oneida Bible Communists was shocking to learn about. The next chapter on Rebellion and Anti-Intellectualism was also fascinating to learn about Mankind United and how its founder relied on conspiracy theories (which are “kissing cousins” with cults, according to Borden) to further his beliefs. Throughout the book, Borden uses other examples of cults to show how the founders and leaders often took from other belief systems, cults and conspiracy theories to cobble together their ideas and further empower their leaders and strongmen. Chapter 4 looks at Consumption and Salvation, and how cult leaders often use our desire for success, health and improvement to drive consumption of their products, whether it comes in the form of a cream, pill, or seminar/webinar. It was surprising to learn about John-Roger, the leader of MSIA, and how he exploited his followers, especially young men. MSIA, a cult I didn’t know anything about, “blatantly ripped off ideologies…of a movement called Eckankar” which also ripped off other movements. Again, we can see how these cult founders often just borrowed and remixed the ideas of others to exploit a new group looking for something to improve their lives. As Borden notes throughout the latter chapters, cults and religious movements (like the different Great Awakenings) often follow a period of social upheaval or change, and the leaders look to exploit people’s confusion or desire for improvement in these times. Chapter 5 links multilevel marketing scams like Amway to cults, and shows not only how the leaders of these programs, like Betsy Devos’s father-in-law, used their positions and connections to avoid the kind of legal challenges that would properly hold these kinds of pyramid schemers accountable and protect those at the bottom of the scheme propping up the wealth of others. I think that Amanda Montell also talks about MLM in her book Cultish, but not to the extent that Borden interrogates the history and practices of these scams. It’s shocking to really look at how these programs exploit the desire of others for success and wealth, but also how they use the American/Protestant ethos of hard work leading to success to further exploit others and continue to push them to buy and sell. Again, this kind of American ethos tied in with our need for consumption is what begets the kind of leaders who devise and exploit MLMs. Chater 6 which explores Identity and Isolation and examines the kind of “Us vs. Them” mentality that cults inculcate in their followers was particularly relevant in our current society as a largely unpopular movement seems to have overtaken the government and continually uses bad faith arguments, relies on people’s ignorance, and continues to strike a defensive and divisive tone when making their case for the unravelling of the federal bureaucracy. I couldn’t help but think of the Christian nationalists like Pete Hegseth and Russel Vought who have explicitly called for violence and pain to their enemies. Not sure how these fellas bring Americans together, but it seems like a strange stance to take for a follow of Christ who advocated for peace and love. Nevertheless, Borden uses the Nuwaubians and Dwight York, who originated in NY as the Ansaru Allah Community. Ocker discusses them in his book Cult Following, and I also read recent books about De La Soul and MF DOOM, who came from families who were also adherents to York’s system. It’s a fascinating, yet sad and troubling movement, that sought to use the Civil Rights and Black Power movements to bring about change in Black American communities, but ultimately York’s sexual exploitation of his followers led to the downfall of his organization. However, as Boden writes about York, he seemed not too much different from other cult leaders that she describes like John Noyes, who was the founder of the Oneida movement nearly 130 years earlier. Thus, Borden effectively ties these groups together, often emphasizing the similar behaviors and methods that the leaders and their organizations use to exploit followers and use them to not only advance their own agendas, but also to harm or eliminate any of those who are skeptical or present potential threats to their power. The last chapter focuses on our desire of comfort and how leaders will often present cults as a way to bring about comfort and release to our suffering. Borden uses the example of Love Has Won, which was a relatively new cult, but one that was presented in an HBO Max documentary last year. Like many cults, this one was not only strange, but also sad, in how the leader brought about her own demise, yet how people strangely accepted her failing health and rationalized their own decisions and complicity in her deterioration. Despite being a shorter chapter, I think Borden makes some important arguments here about how our desire for comfort and avoidance of pain and suffering may lead us to seek out questionable motives. What is even more interesting is how she emphasizes the kind of income inequality and unequal access to proper healthcare can and has led people to make rash and unhealthy decisions, whether it is from ingesting the silver tincture that Love Has Won followers kept taking to those who held grievances against the elite and wealthy who Trump exploited to take up arms on January 6^th. The conclusion is also important to read, as Borden ties her ideas together and reemphasizes the notion that cults, and especially apocalyptic thinking are a major part of the American identity. While this book was not necessarily what I thought it would be, it is an important read that challenges our ideas about cults, why people join them, and how they are interwoven into the fabric of our culture and society. A really interesting point that Borden makes towards the end of the book is how technology has largely atomized the kind of thinking and beliefs that cults exploit, allowing cults and their leaders to have a further and more powerful reach. While I agree, I don’t think this was the original intention of the internet, nor any social media company. I think that these started with good intentions, especially the early communities of the internet (especially the Whole Earth Lectronic Link), but sadly others found ways to exploit this tool to their own ends, and still others find ways to take advantage of the grief, anger, and other negative feelings that are the result of continued discrimination, exploitation, and inequality (maybe this is Trump’s new DEI) that have expanded over the past few decades. There is a lot to explore with this book, and I would love to revisit it again. It’s a challenging and thought-provoking book, but one that is especially relevant today in making sense of illogical and seemingly unamerican behavior. Borden brings a serious and ardent tone but also balances it with some humorous and scathing takes on cults, politicians and our society. I really appreciated these opportunities to lighten such dark topics and examples. Furthermore, I think that this kind of approach helps to make her conclusions, especially about human nature more relatable. 

Deep Cover in America's Accelerationist Hate Groups: Code Name: Pale Horse: How I Went Undercover to Expose America's Nazis

Code Name: Pale Horse: How I Went Undercover to Expose America's Nazis by Scott Payne

Code Name: Pale Horse book cover

Author and retired undercover FBI agent Scott Payne

Co-author and reporter Michelle Shephard

Thank you to Atria Books and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Scott Payne and Michelle Shephard’s riveting book Code Name: Pale Horse: How I went Undercover to Expose America’s Nazis. The book is told primarily through Payne’s perspective as he goes undercover to expose members of The Base, an accelerationist white supremacy group that has gained some traction since the 2016 election of Donald Trump. I previously listened to Shephard’s podcast White Hot Hate about the Canadian connection to The Base, not realizing that Shephard was also the co-writer of this book. She also just released season 2 of her podcast, which will focus on Payne’s undercover work. As she notes in the podcast, Payne wasn’t able to tell his story until he retired, and the book details some of the cases that took their physical, psychological and emotional toll on Payne, eventually leading to his retirement. While this book doesn’t exclusively deal with the investigation and arrest of the members of The Base, Payne and Shephard provide some background into other cases that show the risks and challenges Payne face in dealing with other extremists and criminals. The book starts out with an Payne’s initial meeting in person with members of the Georgia cell of The Base, which was the closest cell to Payne, who lived in Tennessee at the time. I was drawn in by this chapter, since I have read (and listened to podcasts) about this group. Not that I’m looking to understand their motivations, there’s no way to understand hatred and racism, but it seems like these groups have both become more emboldened and yet remain on the peripheries of our society. In another book I’m reading about extremism, the author described these groups as like the descendants of Timothy McVeigh—people who ultimately want to bring about the destruction of America. As Payne notes, technology and social media have helped to facilitate an easier means of communicating and finding shared communities, but it also brings about the kind of operational security issues that allowed Payne and others like journalists to infiltrate these groups. I loved reading Payne’s descriptions and considerations about how to overcome these kinds of barriers, and even if they are deceptive, I can tell that Payne is fighting for a good cause and looking to protect society. He shares some of the terrifyingly violent and destructive messages that the members promoted about attacking perceived enemies and destroying infrastructure like water supplies or power grids. These are guys (and they are primarily guys) who are not just playing around. Furthermore, I found it disgusting how they revered people like Dylann Roof and Anders Breivik. Sadly certain forums and people who advocate for absolutism in first amendment allow this kind of false and dangerous worship. It was really shocking to read about how these members venerate racially motivated murderers. Payne’s book not only presents an exciting story while also detailing the dangers he encounters in collecting evidence and building his case against these members, but he also highlights the continued threat that these groups present.

As I mentioned, the book starts out with meeting the members of the base after some initial online recruiting and interviews. However, the book then goes back to detail Payne’s early life growing up in South Carolina. He comes from a caring and musical family, which aids his undercover work as a white supremacist member of the Ku Klux Klan later on. I was really surprised at the kind of trouble he got in during high school. It wasn’t malicious, but it definitely didn’t seem like someone who was bound for work in law enforcement. If anything, it made Payne seem more relatable. He has a funny story, though, about his early undercover work for one of the administrators at his school. Throughout the book, Payne has this kind of easy-going and jokey type tone that made the book both relatable, but it also showed how his personality probably allowed him to manage some of these stressful situations. One weird story was about how as a teen, he started listening to a band called Grim Reaper. I never heard of them and I thought it was a cool band name. Then he mentioned how he started to get more into Satanism, watching horror movies, which eventually led to him seeing a demon. It was a little weird. I don’t doubt his belief in what he saw, but from what I saw, the band Grim Reaper was not really that Satanic. It was just a weird story that stuck out to me. Scott eventually gets into law enforcement, which eventually leads to working in the FBI and working undercover. His burly appearance led to cases infiltrating the Outlaws biker gang. I honestly felt like this was the most exciting and stressful case he experienced. These guys were violent, into drugs, human trafficking, and other crimes. Scott doesn’t divulge too many operational details, but he does mention not cheating on his wife, despite opportunities, and not taking drugs. It was amazing to see his thinking and responses when he’s pushed to engage in criminal and dangerous activity. Another case has him infiltrate the Ku Klux Klan, and this one wasn’t as exciting, but it was interesting, especially since it helps to contextualize his later work with the more extreme accelerationist groups like The Base.

Despite being more extreme, Payne does paint the Base members as being similarly inept and clumsy, and too eager to engage in violence that will hasten the collapse of society. There’s some pretty weird rituals he’s forced to engage in that celebrate the Nordic heritage of these white supremacist groups. If it wasn’t for a goat sacrifice and talk of a white ethnostate, it would seem like just a bunch of weird guys who are hanging out and getting messed up.  I was also a little surprised to learn that these guys were taking acid during this ceremony, which really seemed antithetical to their causes and beliefs of violence and destruction. Most people I know who have taken acid are a little wild and unpredictable, but generally feel more empathetic and connected to others. I don’t doubt that Payne knows about drugs, but it seemed like these guys were more into meth and coke than hallucinogens. Regardless, Payne’s participation draws him closer to the group while their suspicions grow that there is a leaker or informant among them. Payne also is able to avert some potential violent incidents with his undercover work, possibly saving lives. I was actually surprised to learn that some of the members who were arrested before their attacks lived in Delaware and that the guy who started the Base was from NJ. Another member was arrested for vandalizing a synagogue in NJ. However, I saw a recent article about how NJ’s biggest threat is hate groups. This was really surprising to learn, but I think it also emphasizes some of the important lessons from Payne’s book. He details how many of the members of these groups have jobs, interact with others, and can sometimes lead mundane lives, but technology and platforms that tolerate these extremists with the argument of absolute free speech allow them to not only promote their disgusting hate, but also seek to recruit others and spread disinformation. Code Name: Pale Horse is a quick and compelling read about a growing threat in American society. Scott Payne’s narration and story (along with Michelle Shephard’s writing) make the facts more entertaining and exciting. Definitely a recommended book for fans of true crime and those who want to learn more about growing threat of extremists and hate groups in America. 

Going back to those Gold Soundz and Never Quarantining the Past: Lollapalooza: The Uncensored Story of Alternative Rock's Wildest Festival by Richard Bienstock and Tom Beaujour

 Lollapalooza: The Uncensored Story of Alternative Rock's Wildest Festival 

by Richard Bienstock and Tom Beaujour

Lollapalooza book cover

Authors Tom Beaujour (left) and Richard Bienstock (right)

Ice-T and Body Count joined by Henry Rollins in the first Lollapalooza tour (1991)

Pavement performing on the second stage in 1995's Lollapalooza

Beck performing in 1995, post "Loser" pre-Odelay

Sonic Youth headlined the 1995 Lollapalooza tour

Major thanks to St. Martin’s Press and Net Galley for providing me with an advanced copy of Lollapalooza: The Uncensored Story of Alternative Rock’s Wildest Festival by Richard Bienstock and Tom Beaujour. I’ve been looking forward to reading this book since it was first made available since I remember when Lollapalooza first started, and although I never attended any of them, I also watched it grow as many of the bands I discovered and rabidly listened to were a part of this innovative and ground-breaking festival of the 1990s that continues on today.

I really like these kinds of music books that document periods in music history through interviews with those who were involved in it. I think the first book that I read that was like this was Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain, which is an oral history of Punk, specifically focused on New York punk in the 70s. Lollapalooza follows a similar style where its sections are divided up into the different years that Lollapalooza toured, 1991-1997, ending with an epilogue focusing on 2003, when Lollapalooza returned. Each year begins with a narrative overview of the tour, discussing which bands performed, how they were recruited for the tour, like their personal connection with Perry Farrell and Jane’s Addiction, and other details. Then there are chapters in each year that focus either on a particular artist or band or some other element of the tour. However, these chapters are taken directly from interviews with the artists, managers, and crew involved with making Lollapalooza happen. I found it really easy and enjoyable to read. I kept reading, wanting to know what more would happen each year on these tours. I also loved hearing from artists like Ice-T, members of Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Sen Dog from Cypress Hill. It’s also a little sad since there are some artists who are no longer alive to share their stories yet were an important parts of the touring years of the 90s. Artists like Coolio, Mark Lanegan, from Screaming Trees, Layne Staley, from Alice in Chains, Chris Cornell from Soundgarden and Audioslave, and Sinead O’Connor, who I didn’t even realize was a part of the 1995 tour before dropping off. Even though there weren’t any quotes from these artists, other participants shared stories, fond, funny, and sometimes sad, about their experiences touring with them. What I found compelling about this book was also that it contained the perspectives of those who organized and worked on the tour, helping to manage the stages, prep the artists and gear for each act, and break down the equipment and prepare to move the show to another city or location. It was fascinating to learn more about how Lollapalooza operated since there really weren’t too many touring shows like this that had toured around at the time. Some of the interviewees cited the Grateful Dead as a touring model that they looked at and how Bill Graham Productions helped with ironing out the finer details to make the show run more efficiently after they stopped in the Bay Area in either the first or second year. However, Lollapalooza served as the model for other touring shows that sprouted up in its wake in the mid to late 90s (Lillith Fair, HORDE Fest, Ozz Fest, etc). I enjoyed learning about how the different production managers and the contact people for the crowd engagement coordinated to make Lollapalooza so unique and innovative. As the book notes, part of Farrell’s vision for this festival was to bring together disparate perspectives that were kind of encompassing the 90s (and have further drifted apart today). I think there was a quote about having the NRA in attendance along with gun right activists, or pro-life and pro-choice people attend to debate, and I guess learn from one another. It is a kind of cool and idealistic way of thinking how music and art could bring together opposing perspectives on political and social issues, and possibly allow for some learning and understanding. And while I think that may have also been some of the initial thinking about the early world wide web community, it’s kind of devolved into echo chambers and reinforcing biases. However, I think that Perry Farrell had good intentions and, despite his own personal flaws, he had really good taste and a unique vision for the function of music and art in the 90s. Nevertheless, this kind of disparate approach in issues was also reflected in the music lineups, especially in the early years of Lollapalooza. It was fascinating to see the first lineup consisted of Jane’s Addiction, in what was supposed to be their farewell tour, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Living Colour, Nine Inch Nails (in their first tour), Ice-T (rapping and performing with Body Count), Butthole Surfers, the Rollins Band, and Fishbone. The interviews with the artists also shared their surprise at this amalgamation of different styles that didn’t share much. However, I think any book that features stories about the Butthole Surfers is really enjoyable. I think their chapter in Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life was by far the funniest chapter in the book. Similarly, the stories about the bands stage show and hi-jinks during downtime on the tour were pretty funny. The 1992 tour featured Ice Cube, Soundgarden (in their first appearance at Lollapalooza), Ministry, and Red Hot Chili Peppers, but also had a 2^nd stage featuring the Jim Rose Circus. The stories with those performers were also really entertaining, and it kind of shows the theatrics and performative sideshow nature that made both Lollapalooza and the 1990s “alternative”.

In addition to the artists and crew, Bienstock and Beaujour also interview music journalists (including Azerrad), who offer some great insights into how music changed in the 90s, as well as the kind of artists/acts that Lollapalooza had to recruit to not only drive ticket sales and crowds, but also seem fresh and cutting edge in the 90s to really appeal as an “alternative” to more of the hair rock that was dying from the 80s and the gradual dormancy of pop music that was to emerge around the late 90s. These journalists and the tour planners offered some interesting insight into the musical choices for the different years, including that Lollapalooza seemed to have sought out Nirvana for the 1994 tour. It sounded like there were some financial concerns, that Nirvana’s price might have been too high, but also that Kurt Cobain’s life was in a spiral due to his hospitalization during the planning months (and shortly before his death). However, the 1994 lineup was equally eclectic and electric, featuring The Breeders, Beastie Boys, George Clinton and P-Funk, A Tribe Called Quest, Green Day, The Flaming Lips, and Guided by Voices. I loved learning that Robert Pollard and his brother beath the Beastie Boys at basketball, and there was lots of differing opinions on Billy Corgan (Smashing Pumpkins headlined that year). I think 1995, one of the lower grossing years, was probably the year I really would have wanted to go. I remember watching 120 Minutes during this time and seeing a live performance of Beck with Sonic Youth doing the “Diamond Sea”, one of my favorite songs that I first got to hear live at a concert shortly after the Lollapalooza tour. Maybe I imagined it, but this wouldn’t have been a video available online since that technology wasn’t really available in 95. However, that was another really cool fact to learn from this book—how many of the artists would end up playing with other bands and jamming together as the tour went on. Other musicians talked about the challenges of being on the road, finding things to keep them engaged and active, especially when many of the festivals were far away from cities. Other artists talked about the challenges of staying sober and not getting too into drugs or alcohol while on tour. The last two years of touring, 96 and 97, were strange lineups that similarly reflected some of the unfortunate directions that music in the 90s were taking. It’s also interesting because as I read in another recent book, Pretend We’re Dead: The Rise, Fall, and Resurrection of Women in Rock in the ‘90s by Tanya Pearson, late 1990s music took a very masculine, somewhat misogynistic turn, and this is reflected in some of the festivals like Woodstock 99 (along with the documentary) as well as Lollapalooza’s booking. While the festival was primarily a music festival, there’s also a need to make money, and the promoters and organizers needed to balance the art and commerce. That’s probably how Metallica, who was getting ready to release their Load album, which was not really a metal album, was invited to headline the tour. Although this would bring a lot of fans, some of the other artists (and news reports included in the book) detailed the challenges from performing to audiences that either were not familiar or not interested in their work. It seemed like audiences became lest curious or welcoming. This was even more apparent when a band like James played in 1997 and were confronted by Korn fans, who seemed really hostile to other acts. Despite these challenges, Lollapalooza did bring many different fans and musical styles together. This book especially highlights many of those differences while also sharing some interesting and entertaining stories about what happened behind the scenes, and dishing on what it is like to tour for the summer. I absolutely loved this book, and I can’t wait to read the other book about 80’s hair bands by Bienstock and Beaujour (Nothin’ But a Good Time). Highly recommended book!

Exploring Running, Writing, and Listening in Ben Ratliff's Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening

 Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening by Ben Ratliff

Run the Song book cover

Author, music journalist, and runner Ben Ratliff

Tres player Arsenio Rodriguez, a musician I learned about from Ratliff's book

Elmo Hope, another musician featured in Ratliff's book

Big thanks to Graywolf Press and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of Ben Ratliff’s great new book Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening. Also, I have to give big props to Ben Ratliff as well for providing a playlist of sorts of all the songs/albums that are referenced in this book. As I was reading, I was highlighting all the music I wasn’t familiar with because it sounded like some amazing sounds to check out. I have Ratliff’s Coltrane: The Story of a Sound on my to read list, and after reading this book, I’m hoping to get to it sooner. Ratliff’s book combines several of my own personal passions: reading, writing, and running, and since he is coming from a music journalist background, it was cool to read about his perspectives about running. When I read “running” books written by coaches or athletes, they are usually focused on strategies, methods, and training guidelines. I was wondering whether Ratliff’s book might be like Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, probably my favorite book about running since it is more meditative and reflective. Ratliff actually devotes about 2 chapters to writing about Murakami’s writing and running, and also wondering why Murakami, another writer who writes extensively about music, didn’t talk too much about running and music. For both writers, it seems like running is a time to enter a void like state, something Ratliff refers to from Murakami’s book. I’ve often felt the same way. I’ve found running as a way to put on headphones and think about events and incidents in my life, to work out ideas and problems, and to just enjoy being outside and moving. I haven’t read Murakami’s book for a while, but it was interesting to read Ratliff’s reaction.

Ratliff’s own running around the Bronx and Yonkers also resonated with my own running experience. I started running when I lived in Philadelphia, and I really enjoyed exploring the city’s different neighborhoods, parks, and trails in my runs. While I tended to follow similar routes, I also loved exploring new areas, pushing myself further, and seeing how far I could go. I was amazed to learn about all of the different types of music that Ratliff listens to while running, and especially to learn about running to John and Alice Coltrane’s music. In his sections discussing both Coltranes’ different albums, Ratliff explains how Coltrane’s later work was about pushing boundaries of songs—exploring and expanding, and Ratliff sometimes sees his running in this way. I love the music of both Alice and John Coltrane, but I typically don’t run to Jazz music. I usually reserve free Jazz for other activities, especially those involving reading. However, it was cool to see how Ratliff uses this music as a way to further his running and I think it speaks to the more introspective and observational aspects of his running, how running and listening to music allows him to possibly experience and kind of synesthesia, where he can combine his senses. He doesn’t directly say that, and this is just more my own speculation, but it is a really cool way of thinking about this kind of synthesis of perceptive inputs. However, it was interesting to think about running in new places. This is something I like to do when I travel—to scout out a new location to run and just see the city that way. I tried it on a trip to Chicago, and it was really cool to run along Lake Michigan and see a little of the different sights around the city. I’ve run several races in NY and had some opportunities to run around parts of Manhattan, and that is also a really cool experience. Again, it is a way to learn more about the place and kind of do a deep dive, but with a soundtrack. What’s interesting about Ratliff’s running is how he enjoys exploring the same area but always looking for something new. This is something that also resonated with me. There’s some canal trails not too far from me where I like to run in the spring and summer, and it is always cool to find new animals, plants, and just general scenery when I run. I particularly like when it’s early morning and the fog is slowly separating from the lake, gradually rising to the clouds. I’ll have to remember to take some other paths or work my way over onto other roads and possibly find some Coltrane or Eric Dolphy to guide me on the path of getting lost.

I also really enjoyed Ratliff’s focus on movement for both music and running and connecting dance and physical movement to music with running. This was something I hadn’t really considered before. I have incorporated more dance-type electronic music into my running more recently, and I feel like this kind of music does have a repetitive, propulsive beat that keeps me moving. When I first started running, all I would listen to was metal (death, grindcore, thrash, NWOBM, etc), punk, and hip-hop. I’ve gradually expanded my listening, and have incorporated more, but I loved reading about how Ratliff explores different types of music and their related movements to running. Again, this was different from typical running books that can focus on foot strike and gait, where Ratliff is more interested in the movement of expression as opposed to the efficiency of movement. It again shows how running can be a kind of emotional outlet or a kind of expression of gratitude for the ability to still move. It’s something that I need to remind myself about with running.

People run and write for different reasons. While there are running books and articles that tend to focus on mechanics and techniques of running, Ratliff’s book is unique in that it is more contemplative and meditative. It’s not quite a journal, but it is a highly personal look inside Ratliff’s own running practice, learning about how running has helped him listen, which has further fueled his writing process. Although he may not realize it, Ratliff’s book has helped me consider some new techniques for running and especially for listening. While some runners I know have argued against listening to music while they run, I cannot imagine running without headphones or a soundtrack. Ratliff has given me some new ideas and music to consider as a running soundtrack. Furthermore, he has provided some insights into how running can enhance listening and thought. This was such a great book, and I loved the short chapters that tended to focus on artists, music, and places to run. In particular, I’m grateful to Ratliff for introducing some awesome new music to me. I always appreciate these books about music that send me in new directions. I am really excited to get some Arsenio Rodriguez records and learn more about tres musicians. I checked out some of his music online, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard of him. That chapter that linked Rodriguez, Thelonius Monk, and Elmo Hope, who I think had some connection with Coltrane, was one of my favorite chapters. I feel like there was some documentary that talked a lot about Elmo Hope. I can’t remember the connection, but reading Ratliff’s book made me want to check out Elmo Hope’s music, even if his recordings are limited. It was so cool the way he linked the neighborhood that connected them to his running exploration, and found a way to weave together their music as well. Ratliff does this with some other artists, musical styles, and places as well, and this kind of interweaving and connection was fascinating and interesting to read. A highly recommended book. 

Exploring the Roots of an Inequitable Disciplinary Practice: Suspended Education: School Punishment and the Legacy of Racial Injustice by Aaron Kupchik

 Suspended Education: School Punishment and the Legacy of Racial Injustice by Aaron Kupchik

Suspended Education book cover

Professor, Researcher, and Author Aaron Kupchik

Big thanks to New York University Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Aaron Kupchik’s excellent new book Suspended Education: School Punishment and the Legacy of Racial Injustice. Kupchik, a professor of Sociology at the University of Delaware, focuses his research interests on juvenile justice and how youths in schools are punished and policed. I was interested in reading this book because as a teacher, I am also curious to see how instances of racial injustice in society are often implemented or reproduced  in other social systems like schools. Furthermore, I’ve read some other books that have addressed similar issues about school punishment of minorities, especially Black students. A few years ago, as part of a book group at work, we read Monique Morris’s Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools, which details how teachers, administrators and the school system frequently punishes rather than supports young Black girls. Bettina Love’s Punished for Dreaming: How School Reform Harms Black Children and How We Heal focuses more on reforms intended to improve schools, but ultimately end up harming children, especially children of color. Dr. Love examines the ways that programs and approaches to discipline ultimately leave children of color with fewer options and do not offer second chances after mistakes.  I also recently read Eve Ewing’s excellent Original Sins: The (Mis)education of Black and Native Children and the Construction of American Racism, in which she examines the history of exclusion and the kind of unequal opportunities that Black and Indigenous children had, and how these limited opportunities have furthered inequalities today. Ewing’s book also looks at disparities in punishment in schools, and the kind of impact they have. Needless to say, Kupchik’s focus on school punishment of Black students, especially the use of suspensions, is an important topic that has only been more recently examined. As Kupchik details, the use of suspensions was pervasive, if not widely reported, in many schools in the US, especially after school integration. I found this to be one of the more interesting elements of Dr. Kupchik’s argument—that after integration (or after the end of segregation), there was an increase in the use of suspension with disparate instances of Black students suspended from schools. We know from research and reports from the Obama administration’s Department of Education that Black students, especially Black male students, were more likely to be suspended for longer periods of time than other groups. Similarly, as Morris details in her book, Black girls are also more likely to be suspended and expelled than their white peers. However, Kupchik’s research and analysis explores the historical origins of the use of suspension and a disciplinary tool by examining two areas and districts as case studies.

In addition to being interesting in the topic of school punishment, I also grew more interested in Kupchik’s book because I worked in one of the school districts that he analyzed for his research. Early in my teaching career, I worked in the Colonial School District in New Castle, Delaware (My first day in the school was September 11, 2001). I had little experience teaching, and virtually no experience or training in working with students who were from different backgrounds, culturally, socially, economically. I attended Catholic school my entire K-12 education, and I probably suffered from the apprenticeship of observation, where teachers tended to teach the way they were taught. My experience teaching in Delaware definitely jolted me out of that misguided way of teaching. Not only because there was a diverse student body who let teachers know when teaching methods weren’t working, but there was also a great amount of professional development and support. I also participated in a professional development after school program that was grant funded, where we participated in a book club that furthered our understanding of how to create more engaging literacy activities for students. I know for a fact that this program, collaboration with colleagues, and the various PD opportunities throughout the school year really helped me grow as a teacher, but also helped me develop more engaging and responsive teaching methods that leveraged student experiences and prior knowledge to engage them. This approach also helped with discipline, where I didn’t have to rely on sending students out of the classroom or writing them up. I don’t remember many student suspensions. I do remember that truancy was a problem for some students, but the school operated an In School Suspension room (ISS), which I don’t think was much better than Out-Of-School Suspension. The ISS room had no windows, and teachers had to send packets of work to keep students busy. Although there were other students in the room, there was no noise allowed. I hated that learning was reduced to worksheets, but this was the approach to keep students in school. Reading Kupchik’s analysis and critique of discipline in Delaware’s schools after desegregation made me think of the ISS room as a possible response to the criticisms from the 1980s of this unequal measure of discipline that Black students endured. Additionally, I also thought about my lack of awareness about desegregation in Delaware. As Dr. Kupchik notes in the background and history of desegregation, not all states willingly desegregated. Although the Supreme Court declared the policy of separate but equal unconstitutional, it would be another 24 years or so before Delaware officially desegregated, becoming one of the last to do so. Prior to the official desegregation, segregation academies, schools set up with exclusionary policies in desegregated areas, appeared and continued the inequalities of education. Unfortunately, these schools continue to persist, and with vouchers becoming a possibility across the country, it would seem that this kind of inequality masked as parents’ choice or rights would thrive. Nevertheless, Dr. Kupchik’s description of the long, drawn-out process of desegregating Delaware schools made me think about the kind of tension I faced as a young white teacher with Black students. Working with students throughout the year, I think we gradually built a rapport, but there was definitely some tension and suspicion. My Black colleagues were incredibly helpful in discussing how to work with students and develop buy in and motivate them. However, I think that the recent history of segregation, probably only a generation removed from my students, most likely instilled some suspicion and doubt about school. I also remember talking to a colleague about beaches in Delaware as summer approached. They mentioned not really liking beaches since they had to avoid the white beaches. It was an eye opening experience for me, a young white teacher whose belief in racism and segregation was that the Brown Decision in 1954 largely ended both. I think my experience working in Delaware helped me as a teacher and it also made me realize the kinds of disparities and inequalities that still exist. After 2 years, I left to teach in Philly, where I worked in a school that largely had a zero-tolerance policy, and can recognize how damaging suspensions can be, not only for students, but also as Dr. Kupchik notes, for parents as well, who most likely have to miss work to either come to the school for a meeting or arrange care for students. We also witnessed students who willfully missed school because they just didn’t want to be there or that it wasn’t a good space for them. Dr. Kupchik’s description of this kind of punishment is accurate, and I’m really glad that this book is available for researchers and educators who can see the kinds of damage that have resulted in the use of suspensions as discipline.

What I also found interesting about this book is that Dr. Kupchik ties the use of suspensions into the desegregation movement. In his research, including interviews with community members, analysis of media coverage, and other artifacts from school board meetings, Dr. Kupchik discovered that there was little to no mention of suspensions prior to the desegregation periods in New Castle and Boston. However, after desegregation occurred, and students were bussed to new, integrated schools, the suspensions rose for both White and Black students, but with Black students suspended at a much higher rate. I also appreciated how Dr. Kupchik presents his data in charts and graphs, identifying the disparities and differences in these suspension rates. I hadn’t thought about how suspensions might have been a reaction to desegregation, but Dr. Kupchik’s thorough and detailed research and analysis presents a compelling argument. Furthermore, he makes a point that not all educators are racist, and this increase in inequitable punishment might not have been completely the result of explicit racism. As he notes, some educators still believe that suspension is a just punishment, and are not aware of their implicit biases. In his analysis, Dr. Kupchik explores the idea that one of the possible reasons for these suspensions could be that it was a systemic method of punishment; that is, as other schools struggled with the cultural, social, and pedagogical changes that resulted from desegregation, they may have seen schools using suspension as punishment, and it became an acceptable form of punishment. I appreciated this point of view, especially as Dr. Kupchik presents perspectives from educators and administrators I’ve witnessed and worked with. I think this also helps to confirm that while some of them may have been working towards good intentions, the pervasiveness of suspensions may have shifted their perspectives and understanding about its ultimate damages. Furthermore, Dr. Kupchik explains how suspensions not only damage the students’ learning but also lead to long-term generational damage to learning. I really appreciated the research and analysis of this issue, as well as examining suspensions from their earliest use, and hypothesizing that they were largely a reaction to desegregation. Dr. Kupchik shared some of the chaos that resulted from the earlier days after desegregation, and it made me wonder how much guidance and support schools and districts were given in implementing desegregation. While desegregation is important and necessary, it’s not something that could be done overnight. I know from my experience teaching how important professional development, observations, and other collaboration with colleagues were in helping me identify issues with my management and instruction, learning new strategies and methods to engage students, and also learning about my own implicit biases that may have affected discipline and instruction. I wondered how much support teachers had in understanding culturally responsive teaching or cultural incongruity in the classroom. Although there is a movement to keep students in schools more, I hope that educators read Dr. Kupchik’s book to better understand the issues related to suspensions and how they were initiated in American schools. More importantly, if educators read any part of this book, I really hope that they read the “Conclusion” chapter. Dr. Kupchik makes a great argument for the importance of studying issues using a framework that is critical of race. He identifies some of the bad faith arguments and the kinds of misconstrued “reverse racism” that is merely a means to avoid discussing important and relevant social issues. I really appreciated his defense of these theories by defending the criticisms as harmful distortions. I also find this to be true. I have never known any educator to teach students these theories, but it is such an important part of understanding our students’ differences and how to make them learn better. Furthermore, as a white teacher who worked with mostly Black students, I had a lot to learn from them, and my students’ experiences really confirmed many of these ideas about race and racism. It didn’t make me feel bad about being white. Rather, it made me want to do more to support them and help other people understand the kinds of injustices and inequalities that are existent in the world. The conclusion of this book was a powerful defense of the kind of framework that critically examines racism and injustice and sees it as embedded in many of the systems in our society. Furthermore, Dr. Kupchik presents some helpful alternatives to discipline that schools have been and should continue to employ to improve educational outcomes for all students, but especially those students who have been subjected to inequal discipline. As I was reading this book, the Department of Education basically eliminated the Office of Civil Rights, ostensibly making it more difficult to enforce fair and equitable treatment for students across America. While I have hope that schools will continue to educate students and improve on creating more fair and equitable discipline measures, I also recognize that the burden will fall on educators, administrators, and parents to monitor these practices and ensure that justice and equity are enforced. Nevertheless, these recent changes in federal departments make reading Suspended Education all the more important. 

Reverential References in Stephen Graham Jones's The Buffalo Hunter Hunter

 The Buffalo Hunter Hunter 

by Stephen Graham Jones

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter book cover

Author Stephen Graham Jones

Blackfeet Indians at Sun Dance

Thank you to Saga Press and NetGalley for allowing me to read and review a copy of Stephen Graham Jones’s new book The Buffalo Hunter Hunter. I’ve read a few other books by Stephen Graham Jones, and my favorite was The Only Good Indians, mostly because it reminded me of a few other books I’ve previously read. While My Heart is a Chainsaw also wore its influences on its pages, I felt like it was almost too referential and the allusions became a little too much for me. It is a creative book, but the continuous references to slashers took away from the story for me. Thankfully, this new book has plenty of historical and literary allusions, but also tempers them so that they do not overwhelm the characters and the plot. In fact, I felt like this was a highly creative and compelling story where Graham inhabits the minds and personas of two very different characters. I also enjoyed the frame narrative that Graham employs to tell his story, using the discovery of a manuscript from the early 20^th century to set the story in motion. Etsy Beaucarne, a professor of communications, received a manuscript of her ancestor, Arthur Beaucarne, a Lutheran minister in Montana, who recorded his interactions and the confessions of Good Stab, an Indian in the town. While I’ve read some reviews that compared this kind of story within a story to Frankenstein and even Dracula, where the log of the Demeter essentially tells the story of what happened on the boat, I actually thought the framing was reminiscent of Heart of Darkness. However, we learn about Arthur’s story and experiences through his journal, but we also learn about Good Stab’s background and history, as well as his confessions through his own recounting to Arthur. This kind of structure creates some unreliability, but also allows us to see the events from different perspectives, especially since many history texts have left out the perspectives of Indians and Indigenous People. Good Stab is somewhat mysterious, and seems to unnerve Arthur initially, but Arthur also seems to be harboring some secrets of his own and doesn’t seem to completely fit into the town. He’s not only different, but some of the men make fun of him. In some ways, he finds a fellow outcast in Good Stab, an Indian on the periphery of the town, near where buffalo were nearly hunted to extinction and a massacre of the Pikuni Tribe previously occurred. Through this framing of the Beaucarne Manuscript as both a journal and a confession, Graham Jones is able to draw some initial parallels between the characters of Arthur and Good Stab. However, as we learn more about Good Stab’s story and origins as a Nachzehrer (I had to look this German word for a folkloric spirit that can drain the life from the living—almost like a vampire in Graham Jones’s novel) or catman, we will eventually learn more about the secrets that Arthur Beaucarne is hiding.

Both Beaucarne and Good Stab have unique voices, and Graham Jones effectively established characteristic differences between the two. However, I found it a little hard to adjust to their different styles at first. For one, Beaucarne writes like an educated member of the upper class from the late 19^th/early 20^th century. I found myself a little lost at times in his musings and observations about the town and Good Stab. As the story picks up and we learn more about both characters, I think I warmed to his peripatetic thoughts, but it takes some adjustment. Nevertheless, Graham Jones authentically re-creates this kind of narrator. I found Good Stab, on the other hand, more entertaining and endearing. His story about transformation from a Pikuni whose family is in the Sandhills (the afterworld) into a creature somewhat like a Vampire is incredible. Graham Jones uses literal names from the Pikunis (I think) to name animals. For example, Good Stab talks about Long-legs, swift-runners, and Blackhorns. It took me some time to figure out what these animals were, but I really enjoyed that kind of language use. It reminded me a lot of Achebe’s use of Igbo in Things Fall Apart. I also kept coming across the word napikwan, which sounded familiar. This is where I realized the similarities with James Welch’s book Fools Crow, which retells the story of the Marias Massacre and how white settlement (or colonizing) preceded this massacre of innocent Blackfeet Indians. In many ways, Good Stab is somewhat like the main character Fools Crow, who also undergoes a renaming and transformation, mostly due to his stories and exaggerations. I felt that Good Stab also exaggerated, but we also learn that there is truth to his stories. Furthermore, we learn that there is also a connection between both Graham Jones’s and Welch’s novel in that the Marias Massacre plays a part in both books. If you have the opportunity to read the Acknowledgement section, make sure you do. Graham Jones talks about visiting Welch’s house and sitting at his desk, which I thought was really amazing giving that the books both memorialize this massacre, giving voice to the dead, and trying, in some ways, to bring the dead back to life.

I’m not completely sure that Good Stab is a vampire, a Nachzehrer, or a Cat Man, but whatever he is, I can see how his ability to live forever is both a blessing and a curse. He’s able to continue to tell his story and recount the atrocities he’s witnessed as settlers continued to overtake the land of the Blackfeet. However, he also has to rely on others to sustain his lifeforce. One of the more interesting and creative twists on this story is the rules that Graham Jones creates for this kind of vampiric creature. I loved how the creature took on the qualities of what is was feeding on. For example, Good Stab noticed that as he was drinking the blood of trappers, he began to grow a beard and his hair color changed. When he drank the blood of animals, like long-legs, he grew antlers. This was a really cool element of the story, and it took the trope of a vampire in a new direction. I also enjoyed that this was also like a revenge story, where Good Stab was pursuing vengeance, not only for his transformation, but also for his people. In some ways, this part reminded me of the excellent film Ganja and Hess, which is also a unique interpretation of the vampire myth. Good Stab is not completely heartless, and he feels some guilt for some of his victims. He also ends up taking care of a buffalo calf named Weasel Plume. This showed that Good Stab was a complicated character, who was capable of both kindness and violence; yet his violence was also a result of his changed nature and interactions with white society. There’s a lot to think about and consider with this book.

In addition to being a historical vampire story that deals with a real-life massacre of Blackfeet Indians, there’s also a mystery happening in the town. The townspeople are ending up murdered in horrific ways. I enjoyed this mystery, and Graham Jones’s descriptions of the deaths are inventive, yet gruesome. For a horror fan, this is a highlight of the book. Furthermore, Beaucarne is haunted by some of these murdered people he has encountered, and he’s trying to understand how he’s connected to these murders.

The ending of the book comes back to the modern day, when things return to Etsy Beaucarne. I also liked her character, even though she’s limited to the beginning and the end. The last part of the book is interesting, but I also felt like it was tonally different from the other parts of the book. Nevertheless, there’s some humor and absurdity that is balanced with the idea of history and tradition and enabling a voice to emerge from the past that was mostly suppressed.  I loved that Good Stab could continue to tell his tale and celebrate his people for his long life. As I was getting towards the end, I also realized that Beaucarne’s name translates to “Good Meat”, which is also something interesting to think about with his character and this book. Although the book is a little long and some of the Beaucarne sections dragged a little with maybe a too-realistic portrayal of a 19th-century clergyman’s observations, it was a creative and compelling book that also tackles issues of culture and violence, as well as assimilation and history. This may not be a book for everyone, but I definitely enjoyed it. 

Excavating the Hidden History of American Involvement in Northern Ireland: Ali Watkins' The Next One Is for You

 The Next One Is for You: A True Story of Guns, Country, and the IRA's Secret American Army by Ali Watkins

The Next One Is For You book cover

Author Ali Watkins

Vince Conlon (carrying the American flag) plays a major role in gun shipments to the IRA

A cover from Cumann na mBan, an Irish women's organization that supported the IRA. 

Big thanks to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for allowing me to read and review Ali Watkins exciting and surprising book detailing American involvement in the Troubles of Northern Ireland The Next One Is for you: A True Story of Guns, Country, and the IRA’s Secret American Army. Fellow Temple Alum Ali Watkins has written a fascinating, yet hidden history of the Philly connection to the IRA. What’s even more incredible about this book is how she is able to provide context and background to the complex and complicated political and social violence that besieged Northern Ireland from the 1960s up until the end of the 20^th century. With the recent Hulu series based on Patrick Radden Keefe’s excellent book Say Nothing, there seems to be a resurgence in the interest in the Troubles. While Radden Keefe’s book looks at a specific incident and the fallout from the philosophy of “say nothing”, Watkins’ book examines how American support intertwined with the dual nature of the Provisional IRA and the political art, or Sinn Fein. Watkins’ book examines how support from the Irish diaspora, specifically in Philadelphia, ended up arming and continuing the violence in Northern Ireland. I especially loved her epilogue, when she explains how she aimed to find out how one gun travelled from Philadelphia to Northern Ireland, and the lives it changed as a result. While she wasn’t able to interview some of those affected by the gun violence in Northern Ireland, her journalistic investigation and dogged research to excavate this hidden history helped to shed light into how so many American guns ended up in Northern Ireland.

In addition to being able to effectively explain the different factions in the IRA and the political and social (or maybe cultural) nature of the occupation of Northern Ireland began, Watkins also captures a vivid picture of 1970s Philadelphia and its suburbs, presenting where the gun running first occurred and how the Irish community in and around Philadelphia used a charitable aid organization as a front to ship guns over to Norther Ireland. As a lifelong Philadelphia resident whose own Irish ancestors immigrated to South Philly in the early 20^th century, I was amazed that I didn’t know more about this story. Although my family hails from Letterkenny in Co. Donnegal, not too far from Derry on the border, I’m guessing my relatives weren’t really involved. My great-grandmother was, from my understanding, fleeing a situation where she was responsible for taking care of a lot of her younger siblings. I don’t know too much about her brothers, but it was fascinating to learn how the Irish community in Philly largely kept the mantra of “say nothing”, while facilitating large shipments of arms meant to inflict violence and harm on a colonizing country. I was amazed at how these regular, blue-collar immigrants, many of them contractors and roofers, were able to purchase massive amounts of weapons and ship them overseas for many years without any kind of attention from the feds. Watkins’ reporting and analysis helps to show not only how much of a different time it was, but also how their charitable organizations and social clubs served as a front for collecting money and shipping out weapons. In addition, Watkins also contextualizes the socio and political nature of England’s occupation of Northern Ireland, exploring how many Irish in America felt strongly about the British presence in Norther Ireland, and as a result, politicians were not as willing to pursue investigations into a cause that might sour a large voting block. It was interesting to think about with political violence in other occupied areas, and how the situations differ. While Watkins wasn’t making any comparisons in her book, it’s hard not to think about other current regions and how politicians still struggle (or maybe don’t) with supporting people challenging colonialism and occupation.

Watkins’ writing also brought to life many of the main players in this hidden arms-smuggling venture. Learning about Vince Conlon and Daniel Cahalane, and their NORAID organization, was fascinating. Her research and interviews with family members brought these figures to life, and readers get a good sense of what they were like as men. It was also great to see that she and her publisher included images and photos of these individuals within the book. I loved being able to get a sense of who they were, as well as seeing some of the older photos of Philly from the 1970s. Watkins reporting also ventures to Northern Ireland, specifically retelling the story of Geraldine Crawford, a young girl whose life is changed by her involvement with the IRA. Interestingly, her life intersects with the Price sisters, whose story was told by Radden Keefe’s book (and the Hulu series on which it was based). These were some of the most intriguing chapters within Watkins’ book, since it provided an insight into life in Norther Ireland at the time, but they also gave us an insight into the implications of the gun smuggling and how it affected the lives of both the Irish Catholics and the British Protestants during this violent time in Northern Ireland.

The latter chapters of the book detail the legal cases that were eventually brought against the Irish American men responsible for sending guns to Northern Ireland. The case is fascinating for the vast extent of weapons shipped overseas as well as how long it occurred, but also because of how unsuccessful the case was. Despite winning some convictions, the prosecutors were unable to prove without reasonable doubt that the guns used in Northern Ireland were directly tied to the American aid organizations like NORAID. Watkins’ research into the cases uncovered a fascinating, but forgotten story of politics, guns, and violence. In these later chapters, we also learn the fate of the Irish American men who helped to arm the IRA, as well as how a delicate peace was eventually navigated and achieved in Northern Ireland in the late 1990s. I actually remember both before and after the peace, and visited Northern Ireland in 1999, shortly after the Good Friday accords, so it was really interesting to read this section as well. Reading about how peace was eventually achieved raised many questions for me about the nature of violence in Northern Ireland and around the world. There were some factions of the IRA that broke away from peace talks and still wanted to pursue violence as a means to an end. Most of the men involved in the American gun shipments didn’t live to see the peace, but I wondered what their reaction would be. Would they have sided with Gerry Adams and accepted a seat at the table? This was a wonderfully exciting and engaging book that I couldn’t put down. The short chapters were filled with details, and Watkins stye, balancing carefully researched facts with narrative reconstructions of the events and those involved in this secret gun-smuggling campaign kept me reading through to find out what would happen next. This was a fascinating book that not only excavated a hidden history of American involvement in a foreign war against colonialism, but also provided insightful context and background to further understand the complexities of the fraught social and political violence that has plagued Northern Ireland (and the rest of Ireland) for over 400 years. My only suggestion would be to include some kind of organization chart or a list of individuals involved. There were a lot of different people involved in both the shipping of arms and the investigation into the arms smuggling, and sometimes I found myself having to go back and check out who was involved in which way. This kind of list would help to see who was involved in which way. Highly recommended book.