Bøker utgitt av LSU Press

During the American Civil War, the western Trans-Mississippi frontier was host to harsh environmental conditions, irregular warfare, and intense racial tensions that created extraordinarily difficult conditions for both combatants and civilians. Matthew M. Stith's Extreme Civil War focuses on Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, and Indian Territory to examine the physical and cultural frontiers that challenged Confederate and Union forces alike. A disturbing narrative emerges where conflict indiscriminately beset troops and families in a region that continually verged on social and political anarchy. With hundreds of small fights disbursed over the expansive borderland, fought by civilians-- even some women and children--as much as by soldiers and guerrillas, this theater of war was especially savage. Despite connections to the political issues and military campaigns that drove the larger war, the irregular conflict in this border region represented a truly disparate war within a war. The blend of violence, racial unrest, and frontier culture presented distinct challenges to combatants, far from the aid of governmental services. Stith shows how white Confederate and Union civilians faced forces of warfare and the bleak environmental realities east of the Great Plains while barely coexisting with a number of other ethnicities and races, including Native Americans and African Americans. In addition to the brutal fighting and lack of basic infrastructure, the inherent mistrust among these communities intensified the suffering of all citizens on America's frontier. Extreme Civil War reveals the complex racial, environmental, and military dimensions that fueled the brutal guerrilla warfare and made the Trans-Mississippi frontier one of the most difficult and diverse pockets of violence during the Civil War.

Extraordinarily wealthy and influential, Stephen Duncan (1787-1867) was a landowner, slaveholder, and financier with a remarkable array of social, economic, and political contacts in pre-Civil War America. In this, the first biography of Duncan, Martha Jane Brazy offers a compelling new portrait of antebellum life through exploration of Duncan's multifaceted personal networks in both the South and the North. Duncan grew up in an elite Pennsylvania family with strong business ties in Philadelphia. There was little indication, though, that he would become a cosmopolitan entrepreneur who would own over fifteen plantations in Mississippi and Louisiana, collectively owning more than two thousand slaves. With style and substance, Martha Jane Brazy describes both the development of Duncan's businesses and the lives of the slaves on whose labor his empire was constructed. According to Brazy, Duncan was a hybrid, not fully a southerner or a northerner. He was also, Brazy shows, a paradox. Although he put down deep roots in Natchez, his sphere of influence was national in scope. Although his wealth was greatly dependent on the slaves he owned, he predicted a clash over the issue of slave ownership nearly three decades before the onset of the Civil War. Perhaps more than any other planter studied, Duncan contradicts historians' definition of the southern slaveholding aristocracy. By connecting and contrasting the networks of this elite planter and those he enslaved, Brazy provides new insights into the slaveocracy of antebellum America.

In 1685, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes made Catholicism the only recognized religion in France and criminalized the practice of Calvinism, throwing the minority Protestant population into crisis. A Peddler's Tale personifies these events in the story of Jean Giraud, a Protestant merchant-peddler, and his various communities. Drawing on Giraud's account book; municipal, parish, and consistory records; and death inventories, Kristine Wirts ably reconstructs Giraud's familial, commercial, and religious circles. She provides a detailed description of the persecution of Giraud and his fellow church members in La Grave, France, as well as their flight across the Alps to Vevey, Switzerland. The town's residents did not welcome all refugees equally, often expelling Huguenots without social connections or financial resources. Those allowed to stay worked diligently to reestablish their lives and fortunes. Once settled in Vevey, Giraud and his extended family supported themselves by moneylending and peddling books, watch parts, and lace products. In contrast to past studies on the Huguenot diaspora that often depicted those fleeing France in heroic terms, A Peddler's Tale exposes the harsh economic realities many exiles faced, as well as the importance of social relationships and the necessity of having financial means to secure passage and sanctuary. Wirts contends that Huguenotrefugees who succeeded in obtaining permanent residency in Vevey shared one important element: many derived their livelihood from the burgeoning economic ties and social bonds that emerged with the rise of capitalist markets. A compelling microhistory, A Peddler's Tale ultimately illustrates the role and power of informal networks in sustaining and fostering early modern communities.

The 1968 burning of the Lazy B Stables in Charlotte, North Carolina, attracted little notice beyond coverage in local media. By the mid-1970s, however, the fire had become the center of a contentious and dubious arson case against a trio of Black civil rights activists, who became known as the "Charlotte Three." The charges against the men garnered interest from federal law enforcement agents, investigative journalists-- including one who later earned a Pulitzer Prize for coverage of the trials--numerous New Left and Black Power activists, and Amnesty International, which declared the defendants "political prisoners." In Going to Hell to Get the Devil, J. Christopher Schutz offers the first comprehensive examination of this controversial case and its outcome. In the 1960s and 1970s, Charlotte's leaders sought to portray their home as a placid, business-friendly, and racially moderate community. When New Left and Black Power activists threatened that stability, city leaders employed a variety of means to silence them, including the use of law enforcement against African Americans they deemed too zealous. In the Charlotte Three case, prosecutors paid prisoners for testimony against the Black activists on trial, resulting in their convictions with lengthy prison sentences. The unwanted publicity surrounding the case of the Charlotte Three became a critical pivot point in the Queen City's post-World War II trajectory. Going to Hell to Get the Devil tells more than the story of an arson case; it also tells the story of the South's future, as the fate of the Charlotte Three became emblematic of the decline of the African American freedom struggle and the causes it championed.

"The latest in LSU Press's Iconic New Orleans Cocktails series, The French 75 tells the stories of the many lives of this protean cocktail. John Maxwell Hamilton begins his search for the French 75 in Europe, traveling to some of the many locations where it may have originated-yet always recognizing that some version of the French 75 was invented multiple times in multiple places. A century or so after its probable creation, this cocktail arrived at Arnaud's Restaurant and became as entrenched in New Orleans as the famed second line. Hamilton not only explores the kaleidoscopic variety of the French 75 over the years and across continents but also includes several now-iconic recipes for the cocktail"--

An American institution, Sun Records has a history with many chapters -- its Memphis origins with visionary Sam Phillips, the breakthrough recordings of Elvis Presley, and the studio's immense influence on the sound of popular music. But behind the company's chart toppers and legendary musicians there exists another story, told by Barbara Barnes Sims. In the male-dominated workforce of the 1950s, 24-year-old Sims found herself thriving in the demanding roles of publicist and sales promotion coordinator at Sun Records. Sims's job placed her in the studio with Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis, Charlie Rich, Carl Perkins, and other Sun entertainers, as well as the unforgettable Phillips, whose work made the music that defined an era. The Next Elvis: Searching for Stardom at Sun Records chronicles Sims's career at the studio, a pivotal time at this recording mecca, as she darted from disc jockeys to distributors. Sims not only entertains with personal stories of big personalities, but also brings humor to the challenges of a young woman working in a fast and tough industry. Her disarming narrative ranges from descriptions of a disgraced Jerry Lee Lewis to the remarkable impact and tragic fall of DJ Daddy-O Dewey to the frenzied Memphis homecoming of Elvis after his military service. Collectively, these vignettes offer a rare and intimate look at the people, the city, and the studio that permanently shifted the trajectory of rock 'n' roll.

Manipulating the Masses tells the story of the enduring threat to American democracy that arose out of World War I: the establishment of pervasive, systematic propaganda as an instrument of the state. During the Great War, the federal government exercised unprecedented power to shape the views and attitudes of American citizens. Its agent for this was the Committee on Public Information (CPI), established by President Woodrow Wilson one week after the United States entered the war in April 1917.Driven by its fiery chief, George Creel, the CPI reached every crevice of the nation, every day, and extended widely abroad. It established the first national newspaper, made prepackaged news a quotidian aspect of governing, and pioneered the concept of public diplomacy. It spread the Wilson administration's messages through articles, cartoons, books, and advertisements in newspapers and magazines; through feature films and volunteer Four Minute Men who spoke during intermission; through posters plastered on buildings and along highways; and through pamphlets distributed by the millions. It enlisted the nation's leading progressive journalists, advertising executives, and artists. It harnessed American universities and their professors to create propaganda and add legitimacy to its mission.Even as Creel insisted that the CPI was a conduit for reliable, fact-based information, the office regularly sanitized news, distorted facts, and played on emotions. Creel extolled transparency but established front organizations. Overseas, the CPI secretly subsidized news organs and bribed journalists. At home, it challenged the loyalty of those who occasionally questioned its tactics. Working closely with federal intelligence agencies eager to sniff out subversives and stifle dissent, the CPI was an accomplice to the Wilson administration's trampling of civil liberties.Until now, the full story of the CPI has never been told. John Maxwell Hamilton consulted over 150 archival collections in the United States and Europe to write this revealing history, which shows the shortcuts to open, honest debate that even well-meaning propagandists take to bend others to their views. Every element of contemporary government propaganda has antecedents in the CPI. It is the ideal vehicle for understanding the rise of propaganda, its methods of operation, and the threat it poses to democracy.

Throughout the decades-long legal battle to end segregation, discrimination, and disfranchisement, attorney Alexander Pierre Tureaud was one of the most influential figures in Louisiana's courts. A More Noble Cause presents both the powerful story of one man's lifelong battle for racial justice and the very personal biography of a black professional and his family in the Jim Crow-era Louisiana. During a career that spanned more than forty years, A. P. Tureaud was at times the only regularly practicing black attorney in Louisiana. From his base in New Orleans, the civil rights pioneer fought successfully to obtain equal pay for Louisiana's black teachers, to desegregate public accommodations, schools, and buses, and for voting rights of qualified black residents. Tureaud's work, along with that of dozens of other African American lawyers, formed part of a larger legal battle that eventually overturned Plessy v. Ferguson, the 1896 U.S. Supreme Court decision that legalized racial segregation. This intimate account, based on more than twenty years of research into the attorney's astounding legal and civil rights career as well as his community work, offers the first full-length study of Tureaud. An active organizer of civic and voting leagues, a leader in the NAACP, a national advocate of the Knights of Peter Claver--a fraternal order of black Catholics--and a respected political power broker and social force as a Democrat and member of the Autocrat Club and Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity, Tureaud worked tirelessly within the state and for all those without equal rights. Both an engrossing story of a key legal, political, and community figure during Jim Crow-era Louisiana and a revealing look at his personal life during a tumultuous time in American history, A More Noble Cause provides insight into Tureaud's public struggles and personal triumphs, offering readers a candid account of a remarkable champion of racial equality.

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, a small group of dedicated dreamers opened the Southern Food & Beverage Museum (SoFAB) to tell the stories of the foods and drinks that have come to define the U.S. South. From its beginnings, SoFAB has focused on discovering, understanding, and celebrating food, drink, and related culture and folklife in America. As the museum grew, its staff and supporters learned to answer the question, "What is southern food?" in new ways that reflected the region's dynamism, its ingenuity in the face of hardship, and the contributions of generations of immigrant communities. The Southern Food & Beverage Museum Cookbook shares recipes particular to each southern state, all created by chefs who feel the connection of home.

Dangerous Innocence investigates how prevailing constructions of white masculinity in the U.S. South help feed and reinforce systems of racial inequity. Tracing the rise of the "southern outsider" in literature and on television from 1960 to 2020, William P. Murray probes white Americans' enduring desire to assert their own blamelessness even though such acts of self-justification facilitate continued violence against historically oppressed populations. Dangerous Innocence courses from popular television such as The Andy Griffith Show and The Waltons through influential fiction by Eudora Welty, Walker Percy, and other prominent southern authors--alongside forceful challenges voiced by Black writers including Chester Himes and Ernest Gaines--before turning to works created after the September 11 attacks that reinscribe cultural logics predicated on protecting white innocence and power. Concluding on a note of praxis, Dangerous Innocence argues that reattaching southern outsiders to a communal identity encourages an honest assessment about what whiteness represents and what it means to belong to a nation steeped in commitments to white supremacy.

America's Imagined Revolution explores the Reconstruction period after the Civil War to ask narratological, historiographical, and theoretical questions about how slave emancipation has (and has not) been theorized as revolution. Reading historical fiction by authors such as George Washington Cable, Albion Tourgée, Charles Chesnutt, Frances Harper, and W. E. B. Du Bois in dialogue with nineteenth-century historical writing--and the era's legal, political, and print culture--Tomos Wallbank-Hughes excavates an evanescent form of historicist writing sensitive to the revolutionary changes that shaped life in the emancipation-era South. As an aesthetic form, the historical novel of Reconstruction poses questions about revolutionary experience in plantation societies, and in the process challenges critical assumptions about historical time in the nineteenth century: How do authors narrate epochal change that also feels like retrenchment? In what direction does history travel if it does not progress? What narratives of race, class, and region encompass both continued domination and ruptured power? By plumbing the situations that give it form, the historical novel of Reconstruction provides a window into the literary culture of the South's long nineteenth century in which, rather than a storehouse of tradition, the region became a terrain for interpreting social revolution and uncovering slavery's revolutionary afterlives. America's Imagined Revolution offers a new interpretation of the literary and historiographical significance of the Reconstruction period and its relationship to American literary history.

"Professing Darkness: Cormac McCarthy's Catholic Critique of American Enlightenment establishes the centrality of Catholic thought, imagery, and sacrament both to the spiritual outlook of the McCarthy corpus and, more specifically, to its critique of Enlightenment values and their realization in American history. To this end, D. Marcel DeCoste surveys McCarthy's fiction from both his Tennessee and southwestern periods, with chapters devoted to eight of his published novels-from Outer Dark to The Road-and an introduction and coda that offer analyses of two of his dramatic works, along with his final novels, The Passenger and Stella Maris. The argument advanced by DeCoste is twofold. First, his readings demonstrate that McCarthy's work mounts a sustained critique of core Enlightenment values and their bloody results in the American context. Second, he establishes that this critical engagement with American Enlightenment is one enabled by, and articulated through, specifically Catholic teachings on such topics as sacraments, ethics, and material creation. Though other studies trace how McCarthy's fiction dissects such American myths as radical individualism and Manifest Destiny, they do not, at the same time, take up the question of how the fiction's spiritual interests and obtrusive Christian symbolism relate to this critical project. More than merely calling attention to McCarthy's own religious background or his drawing on sacramental language, DeCoste examines the significance of Catholicism to the author's depictions not just of religion and ethics, but of the modernity many critics see McCarthy as critiquing. Throughout Professing Darkness, DeCoste offers extended analysis of McCarthy's engagement with American history and myth, early modern and Enlightenment thought, and Catholic theology, ethics, and sacramentalism"--

A prolific poet as a child, Barbara Drake-Vera loved writing almost as much as she adored her father, a moody postal employee with an elaborate comb-over and a fondness for Mahler. But when her successes sparked his rage, Barbara silenced her voice for years, terrified even to see her name in print. By age forty-nine, she was a professional journalist living in Peru and collaborating with her husband, a Peruvian-born photographer, to report on melting glaciers in the Andes, far from the reach of her father. Melted Away recounts what happens after her father is diagnosed with advancing Alzheimer's and Barbara takes him into her home in Lima, beginning a process of self-discovery that uncovers a path toward personal and family healing. A diverse group of allies support her on this quest: a trio of caregiving women from the provinces, who serve as home-health aides; a mischievous, Cervantes-quoting, nonagenarian suitor; and a stubborn alpaca herder who lives beneath a long-worshipped, life-sustaining Andean glacier now melting from rapid climate change. Candid, poignant, and deeply researched, Melted Away is the true story of how a writer at midlife reclaims her agency, and an ardent plea to care for the planet by embracing collectivism and mutual aid.

While historians have acknowledged that the issues of race, slavery, and emancipation were not unique to the American Civil War, they have less frequently recognized the conflict's similarities to other global events. As renowned historian Carl Degler pointed out, the Civil War was "one among many" such conflicts during the mid-nineteenth century. Understanding the Civil War's place in world history requires placing it within a global context of other mid-nineteenth-century political, social, and cultural issues and events. In The Civil War in the Age of Nationalism, Niels Eichhorn and Duncan A. Campbell explore the conflict from this perspective, taking a transnational and comparative approach, with a particular focus on the period from the 1830s to the 1870s. Eichhorn and Campbell examine the development of nationalism and its frequent manifestation, secession, by comparing the American experience with that of several other nations, including Germany, Hungary, and Brazil. They compare the Civil War to the Crimean and Franco-German wars to determine whether the American conflict was the first modern war. To gauge the potential of foreign intervention in the Civil War, they look to the time's developing international debate on the legality of intercession and mediation in other nations' insurgencies. Using the experiences of Indigenous peoples in the Americas, Africa, and the Antipodes, Eichhorn and Campbell suggest the extent to which the United States was an imperial project. To examine realpolitik, they study four vastly different practitioners--Otto von Bismarck, Louis Napoleon, Count Cavour, and Abraham Lincoln. Finally, they compare emancipation in the United States to that in Peru and the end of forced servitude in Russia, closing with a comparison of the memorialization of the Civil War with the experiences of other post-emancipation societies and an examination of how other nations mythologized their past conflicts and ignored uncomfortable truths in the pursuit of reconciliation. The Civil War in the Age of Nationalism avoids the limitations of American exceptionalism, making it the first genuine comparative and transnational study of the Civil War in an international context.

"Cecily Zander's "The Army under Fire" addresses two essential questions about the Civil War and its aftermath. First, what was the extent of anti-militarism in the Civil War era, and who were its proponents? Second, what consequences did political opposition to the professional army have on the war, Reconstruction, and postbellum western expansion? Zander suggests that the principal promotors of an anti-army ideology were the members of the Republican Party-the same men charged with overseeing the Union war effort between 1861 and 1865, as well as the military reconstruction of the nation in the decade that followed the collapse of the Confederacy. While scholars have long appreciated the Republican Party's anti-slavery roots, this study is the first to argue that anti-slavery attitudes developed in concert with a visceral anti-army ideology. Zander's work contains several historiographical interventions in the fields of Civil War history, nineteenth-century political history, and the history of the American West. She suggests that the Republican Party advanced an anti-army political philosophy in tandem with their anti-slavery ideology. Over almost two decades, they stalled legislation supporting the army, cut military funding, and reduced the institution's size. Zander's work counters narratives of accelerated western expansion supported by a more powerful army after the Civil War. She also advances a revised timeline for Reconstruction, suggesting that Republicans rapidly reduced their interest in supporting that policy in the South via military force between 1870 and 1872, which means the party's ideological commitment to the national reunification project ended four years earlier than the traditional date of 1876. Historians interested in the middle decades of the nineteenth century are likely to find "Republicans and Regulars in the Civil War Era" worthy of attention, especially scholars invested in the debates surrounding the chronological and geographic reframing of the Civil War and Reconstruction. Because of the notoriety of many of the work's most important characters-from Jefferson Davis and William Seward to Thaddeus Stevens and Zachariah Chandler, as well as William Tecumseh Sherman, Phillip Sheridan, and Ulysses S. Grant-general readers are also likely to be interested in this study"--

"J. Matthew Ward's Garden of Ruins is a social and military history of Civil War-era Louisiana. Delving deep into primary sources, Ward examines military occupation and state coercion from Union and Confederate authorities, concluding that despite the revolutionary potential of occupation, it was a conservative state mechanism that replicated much of the antebellum social order in the state. He suggests that social stability during wartime, and ultimately victory itself, developed from the capacity of military powers to secure their territory, governing powers, and civilian populations. White and Black residents, in turn, pressed Union and Confederate powers for supplies, security, and redress of grievances. Union troops occupied southern Louisiana beginning in May 1862, expanding their reach for the remainder of the war. During that occupation, Union forces relied on a comprehensive occupation structure that included military actions, social regulations, destabilization of slavery, and the creation of a complex bureaucracy. Struggles between Union forces and civilians, Ward suggests, reveal how occupation became a war on southern households and culture. Before occupation and in unoccupied regions of Louisiana, he shows that little functional difference existed between Confederate governmental and military forces. By examining the coercive policies of the state's Confederate government alongside civilian efforts to patrol the loyalty of their communities, Ward concludes that the Confederate war effort was also a joint production, one that urges historians to consider warfare as more than battles and strategy-it was a social event that revealed the underlying connections between people and state. Garden of Ruins reveals the Civil War, state-building, and democracy itself as contingent processes through which Louisianans shaped the world around them. It also shows that power during the conflict and immediately afterward was a collaborative production between occupying military forces and civilians. Ward's study is certain to be of interest to historians and general readers interested in the Civil War homefront in Louisiana"--

"In Hemingway's Art of Revision: The Making of the Short Fiction, John Beall examines in close detail two of the author's vignettes from the first version of In Our Time and ten of his short stories, with an extensive focus on manuscripts and typescripts, as part of a broader examination of how Ernest Hemingway crafted his distinctive prose through a rigorous process of revision. The first three chapters discuss the influence of Hemingway's three most important modernist mentors: Ezra Pound, James Joyce, and Gertrude Stein. The first chapter focuses on Pound's influence as the editor of the Inquest Series, of which Hemingway's in our time was the final publication. The second chapter examines the affinities between Joyce's "The Sisters" and Hemingway's "Indian Camp." In particular, Beall develops the case for Joyce's influence on Hemingway's decision to revise the story to maintain the reader's focus on young Nick Adams's point of view in his first encounter with death. Chapter three explores Hemingway's revisions of "Cat in the Rain" as reflecting the influence of Stein's novellas and sketches, as well as that of Joyce's stories and novels. The remaining chapters delve into the artistry of Hemingway's extensive revisions in later masterpieces from "Big Two-Hearted River" to "Fathers and Sons." Beall's discussion of "Big Two-Hearted River" shows that Hemingway's revisions were not simply cuts and omissions, but included several paragraphs that he added to slow down the narrative and represent Nick Adams's careful observations of a kingfisher and trout as he watched their shadows on the river. The chapter on "The Battler" and "The Killers" explores the extent to which Hemingway's revisions brought racial conflicts to the forefront of each story and portrayed Bugs and Sam as guides for Nick Adams. A subsequent reading of the story "Now I Lay Me" shows that, in rewriting the story, Hemingway developed his portrait of Nick Adams as a writer making up imaginary rivers to cope with the traumas of childhood and war. A chapter on "A Way You'll Never Be" focuses on how Hemingway's revisions developed crucial story elements-including Nick's interior monologues, manic lecture about grasshoppers, and wacky sense of humor-that showed the character restoring a sense of emotional balance despite his memories of being wounded in World War I. Subsequent chapters on "Fathers and Sons," "Indian Camp," "Hills Like White Elephants," "The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio," and the concluding chapter, in part focused on drafts of "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," offer new discussions of the author's process of revision based on his manuscripts and typescripts published in the Hemingway Library Edition. In the end, by drawing attention to the meticulous edits, additions, and deletions that helped shape these texts, Beall reveals how extensively and richly Hemingway revised his drafts while composing some of his most powerful short fiction. Hemingway's Art of Revision gives a detailed view of a great prose stylist at work"--

The racialized and exoticized cult of Voodoo occupies a central place in the popular image of the Crescent City. But as Kodi A. Roberts argues in Voodoo and Power, the religion was not a monolithic tradition handed down from African ancestors to their American-born descendants. Instead, a much more complicated patchwork of influences created New Orleans Voodoo, allowing it to move across boundaries of race, class, and gender. By employing late nineteenth and early twentieth-century first-hand accounts of Voodoo practitioners and their rituals, Roberts provides a nuanced understanding of who practiced Voodoo and why. Voodoo in New Orleans, a melange of religion, entrepreneurship, and business networks, stretched across the color line in intriguing ways. Roberts's analysis demonstrates that what united professional practitioners, or "workers," with those who sought their services was not a racially uniform folk culture, but rather the power and influence that Voodoo promised. Recognizing that social immobility proved a common barrier for their patrons, workers claimed that their rituals could overcome racial and gendered disadvantages and create new opportunities for their clients. Voodoo rituals and institutions also drew inspiration from the surrounding milieu, including the privations of the Great Depression, the city's complex racial history, and the free-market economy. Money, employment, and business became central concerns for the religion's practitioners: to validate their work, some began operating from recently organized "Spiritual Churches," entities that were tax exempt and thus legitimate in the eyes of the state of Louisiana. Practitioners even leveraged local figures like the mythohistoric Marie Laveau for spiritual purposes and entrepreneurial gain. All the while, they contributed to the cultural legacy that fueled New Orleans's tourist industry and drew visitors and their money to the Crescent City.

"Killed in action at the famous Battle of Shiloh, Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston stands as the highest-ranking Civil War soldier to perish in battle. He is also the highest-ranking American military officer ever to die in combat. His unexpected death had cascading negative ramifications on the Confederate war effort, especially in the Western Theater, where his absence created a void in adequate leadership. Johnston's experiences before the war are a window into the factors that compelled men like him to volunteer to fight to preserve slavery. Surprisingly, there have been only two major biographies of Johnston, one by his son in the 1870s and another by historian Charles P. Roland in the 1960s. In "The Iron Dice of Battle," prolific Civil War historian Timothy Smith reexamines Johnston's life and death, reaching new conclusions about both. According to Smith, as a commander, Johnston constantly faced larger and better-armed Union forces, which dramatically shaped his command decisions, turning him into a strategic gambler. Over and over, he noted that his strategy was essentially a roll of the dice. Johnston's personality was anything but that of a gambler, making choices that required quick and bold bluffs or audacious enemy engagement at odds with his inclinations. Nevertheless, he gambled with his life and troops throughout his command. The final wager came with his army at Shiloh in April 1862. He had alerted his troops that "we must this day conquer or perish," and he perished instead of conquered. His death came amid a desperate gamble to mold the fighting the way he needed it to go; in doing so, he charged ahead to lead from the front and fell mortally wounded. The first volume to examine Johnston's life and career in detail in nearly sixty years, "The Iron Dice of Battle" builds on modern scholarship to provide a new and incisive analysis of not only Johnston's life but, more importantly, his Confederate command and the effect his death had on the remainder of the Civil War in the West"--

"The Limits of Love: The Lives of D. H. Lawrence and Frieda von Richthofen provides a candid look at two illustrious people who tested the capacity-and the limits-of marriage. The Lawrences come alive not as simple quarreling travelers, nor as blissful domestic partners, but as complex personalities who experimented with marriage to see if it would fulfill their needs. Their antagonisms and their sexual experiences informed Lawrence's fearless novels The Rainbow and Women in Love. Both works also tested the boundaries of public taste and faced harsh receptions. The cost of the Lawrences' strong but unstable marriage was high. Despite periods of happiness and peace, angry clashes meant separations and uneasy agreements to repair the marital intimacy when it cracked. Fractures of 1916, 1919, 1923, and 1926 healed slowly and with difficulty. In Lawrence's most calculated and famous work, Lady Chatterley's Lover, he successfully coded their marital stress and, full of rage, fused two stories of failed marriages. Drawing on many unpublished and recently discovered letters, The Limits of Love offers readers a detailed reconstruction of two complicated lives, written with narrative speed and a forceful style, filled with vivid interpretations of Lawrence's work, and conveying deep sympathy for people living outside established norms. This new dual biography, based on years of research by Michael Squires, captures the essence of Lawrence and Frieda, making the couple real, alive, and accessible"--

"Over 170 years after his death, Edgar Allan Poe remains a figure of enduring fascination and speculation for readers, scholars, and devotees of the weird and macabre. In Fallen Angel, acclaimed novelist and poet Robert Morgan offers a new biography of this gifted, complicated author. Focusing on Poe's personal relationships, Morgan chronicles how several women influenced his life and art. Eliza Poe, his mother, died before he turned three, but she haunted him ever after. The loss of Elmira Royster Shelton, his first and last love, devastated him and inspired much of his poetry. Morgan shows that Poe, known for his gothic and supernatural writing, was also a poet of the natural world who helped invent the detective story, science fiction, analytical criticism, and symbolist aesthetics. Though he died at age forty, Poe left behind works of great originality and vision that Fallen Angel explores with depth and feeling"--

Behind the historical accounts of the great men of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People lies the almost forgotten story of the black women who not only participated in the organization but actually helped it thrive in the early twentieth-century South. In Invisible Activists, Lee Sartain examines attitudes toward gender, class, and citizenship of African American activists in Louisiana and women's roles in the campaign for civil rights in the state. In the end, he argues, it was women working behind the scenes in Louisiana's branches of the NAACP who were the most crucial factor in the organization's efficiency and survival. During the first half of the twentieth century -- especially in the darkest days of the Great Depression, when membership waned and funds were scarce -- a core group of women maintained Louisiana's NAACP. Fighting on the front line, Sartain explains, women acted as grassroots organizers, running public relations campaigns and membership drives, mobilizing youth groups, and promoting general community involvement. Using case studies of several prominent female NAACP members in Louisiana, Sartain demonstrates how women combined their fundraising skills with an extensive network of community and family ties to fund the NAACP and, increasingly, to undertake the day-to-day operations of the local organizations themselves. Still, these women also struggled against the double obstacles of racism and sexism that prevented them from attaining the highest positions within NAACP branch leadership. Sartain illustrates how the differences between the sexes were ultimately woven into the political battle for racial justice, where women were viewed as having inherent moral superiority and, hence, the potential to lift the black population as a whole. Sartain concludes that despite the societal traditions that kept women out of leadership positions, in the early stages of the civil rights movement, their skills and their contributions as community matriarchs provided the keys to the organization's progress. Highly original and essential to a comprehensive study of the NAACP, Invisible Activists gives voice to the many individual women who sustained the influential civil rights organization during a time of severe racial oppression in Louisiana. Without such dedication, Sartain asserts, the organization would have had no substantial presence in the state.

Finalist for the Lincoln PrizeWinner of the Colonel Richard W. Ulbrich Memorial Book Award Traditional histories of the Civil War describe the conflict as a war between North and South. Kenneth W. Noe suggests it should instead be understood as a war between the North, the South, and the weather. In The Howling Storm, Noe retells the history of the conflagration with a focus on the ways in which weather and climate shaped the outcomes of battles and campaigns. He further contends that events such as floods and droughts affecting the Confederate home front constricted soldiers' food supply, lowered morale, and undercut the government's efforts to boost nationalist sentiment. By contrast, the superior equipment and open supply lines enjoyed by Union soldiers enabled them to cope successfully with the South's extreme conditions and, ultimately, secure victory in 1865. Climate conditions during the war proved unusual, as irregular phenomena such as El Niño, La Niña, and similar oscillations in the Atlantic Ocean disrupted weather patterns across southern states. Taking into account these meteorological events, Noe rethinks conventional explanations of battlefield victories and losses, compelling historians to reconsider long-held conclusions about the war. Unlike past studies that fault inflation, taxation, and logistical problems for the Confederate defeat, his work considers how soldiers and civilians dealt with floods and droughts that beset areas of the South in 1862, 1863, and 1864. In doing so, he addresses the foundational causes that forced Richmond to make difficult and sometimes disastrous decisions when prioritizing the feeding of the home front or the front lines. The Howling Storm stands as the first comprehensive examination of weather and climate during the Civil War. Its approach, coverage, and conclusions are certain to reshape the field of Civil War studies.

Winner of the Florida Book Award general nonfiction category Throughout the Jim Crow era, southern police departments played a vital role in the maintenance of white supremacy. Police targeted African Americans through an array of actions, including violent interactions, unjust arrests, and the enforcement of segregation laws and customs. Scholars have devoted much attention to law enforcement's use of aggression and brutality as a means of maintaining African American subordination. While these interpretations are vital to the broader understanding of police and minority relations, Black citizens have often come off as powerless in their encounters with law enforcement. Brandon T. Jett's Race, Crime, and Policing in the Jim Crow South, by contrast, reveals previously unrecognized efforts by African Americans to use, manage, and exploit policing. In the process, Jett exposes a much more complex relationship, suggesting that while violence or the threat of violence shaped police and minority relations, it did not define all interactions. Black residents of southern cities repeatedly complained about violent policing strategies and law enforcement's seeming lack of interest in crimes committed against African Americans. These criticisms notwithstanding, Blacks also voiced a desire for the police to become more involved in their communities to reduce the seemingly intractable problem of crime, much of which resulted from racial discrimination and other structural factors related to Jim Crow. Although the actions of the police were problematic, African Americans nonetheless believed that law enforcement could play a role in reducing crime in their communities. During the first half of the twentieth century, Black citizens repeatedly demanded better policing and engaged in behaviors designed to extract services from law enforcement officers in Black neighborhoods as part of a broader strategy to make their communities safer. By examining the myriad ways in which African Americans influenced the police to serve the interests of the Black community, Jett adds a new layer to our understanding of race relations in the urban South in the Jim Crow era and contributes to current debates around the relationship between the police and minorities in the United States.

""Confederate Privateer" is a comprehensive account of the brief life and exploits of John Yates Beall of Virginia, a Confederate soldier, naval officer, and guerrilla in the Chesapeake Bay and Great Lakes region. A resident of Charles Town, Virginia (now West Virginia), near Harpers Ferry, Beall was a witness and a militia participant in the trial of John Brown and his execution in 1859. Beall later signed on as a private in the Confederate army and suffered a wound in defense of Harpers Ferry early in the war. He quickly became a fanatical Confederate, ignoring the issue of slavery by focusing on a belief that he was fighting to preserve liberty against a tyrannical Republican party that had usurped the republic and its constitution. After recovering partly from his wound, Beall signed on with Stonewall Jackson's army. However, his weakened physical condition prevented him from joining the unit. Still seeking an active role in the Confederate cause, he traveled to the Midwest and then to Canada, where, among escaped rebel prisoners of war, he developed an elaborate plan for Confederate operations on the Great Lakes. After making his way to Richmond, Beall laid his plan before Confederate President Jefferson Davis and Secretary of the Navy Stephen Mallory, who commissioned him an acting master in the Confederate navy. Instead of the Great Lakes operation, Mallory authorized a small privateering action on the Chesapeake Bay. Led by "Captain" Beall, the operation damaged or destroyed several ships in or under the protection of the United States Navy. For his part in organizing the raids, Beall became known as the "Terror of the Chesapeake." After United States forces captured Beall and his men, the War Department prepared to try them as pirates, a hanging offense. When the Davis administration threatened to execute the same number of Union prisoners, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton backed down. Freed in a later prisoner exchange, Beall returned to the Great Lakes and organized another privateering operation. After some early successes on the water, Beall hatched a plan to derail a passenger train transporting Confederate prisoners of war near Niagara, New York. Captured before he could carry out the mission, the Union army charged Beall with conspiracy, found him guilty, sentenced him to death, and executed him. Harris's history of Beall offers a new lens on paramilitary efforts by civilians to support the Confederacy. It also sheds light on the South's secret operations in neutral Canada to thwart the Union. Though little remembered today, Beall was a famous and heroic figure in the Civil War South. Indeed, so much so that his execution was on John Wilkes Booth's list of reasons to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln. Based on exhaustive primary and secondary sources and placed in the context of more extensive Confederate guerrilla operations, especially in Canada, "Confederate Privateer" is sure to be of interest to Civil War scholars and general readers interested in the conflict"--

"Born in a provincial city in the Peruvian Andes, the Franciscan linguist and theologian Luis Gerâonimo de Orâe (1554-1630) lived during a critical period in the formation of the modern world, as the global empire of Spain engaged in a nearly continuous struggle over resources and religion. In the first full-length biography of Orâe, Noble David Cook and Alexandra Parma Cook reconstruct the friar's life and the communities in which he circulated, tracing the career of this first-generation Creole from his roots in Huamanga to his work in Andean missions, his activities at the royal courts of Spain and throughout Spanish America, until his final years as bishop of Concepciâon, Chile. While serving in Peru's Colca Valley, Orâe composed multilingual texts, translating doctrinal concepts into the indigenous languages Quechua and Aymara, alongside Latin and Spanish, which missionaries and secular clergy frequently used in their conversion efforts. As commissioner to Cuba and La Florida, he inspected the frontier missions along the coast of what became the southeastern United States and wrote an influential history of these outposts and their environment. After Philip III dispatched him to Concepciâon, Orâe spent his last years working in the southernmost end of the Americas, where he continued his advocacy for indigenous justice and engaged in heated arguments with the governor over defensive war, royal patronage, and Indian enslavement. Drawn from research conducted in Spain and Latin America over several decades, this consequential biography recovers from obscurity a colonial friar whose legacy continues in the Andean world today"--

"In Speed, Safety, and Comfort: The Origins of Delta Air Lines, former Delta Boeing 767 captain and aviation historian James John Hoogerwerf traces the evolution and growth of one of America's most successful airlines. Delta's story began during the early twentieth century with the fight against the cotton-devouring boll weevil, which devastated the southern economy and compelled scientists to formulate calcium arsenate powder to eradicate the invasive pest. To aid in the elimination effort, Huff Daland Dusters, a military aircraft manufacturer, constructed the first plane specifically designed to dispense the poison from the air. The crop duster proved so effective that the company rebranded as Delta Air Service in 1925, focusing more on providing commercial services, including the transport of government mail and a variety of goods. Four years later, Delta began flying its first passengers from its hub in Monroe, Louisiana, eventually establishing routes crisscrossing the southeastern United States. By the eve of World War II, the firm had assumed the familiar Delta Air Lines name and boasted forward-thinking management, a modern fleet of aircraft, and increased revenue from passenger ticket sales. Now headquartered in Atlanta, Delta counts itself among the oldest and largest airlines in the world, with nearly 90,000 employees and more than 5,400 flights per day. Delta's expansion and survival are anomalies in an industry historically dominated by government and special interests. Hoogerwerf's masterful history of Delta's beginnings underscores the company's contribution to agriculture, southern industrialization, and the development of commercial aviation in the United States"--

"Timothy Buckner's The Barber of Natchez Reconsidered uses William Johnson's life to demonstrate how Black men asserted their masculinity in the nineteenth century. Johnson, a wealthy free Black barber in Natchez, Mississippi, kept a diary from 1835 until his death in 1851. Published a hundred years later by LSU Press, William Johnson's Natchez (1951) is considered by historians to be among the most important sources on free Black life in the antebellum South. The diary inspired numerous studies of Johnson's life, including the influential The Barber of Natchez (LSU Press, 1953), by Edwin A. Davis and William R. Hogan. The study and others established Johnson as an anomaly in the old South: a free man of color who held himself separate from other African Americans through slave-owning and internalizing white ideas about racial prejudice. Using recent scholarship on Black masculinity as an essential new lens to reexamine Johnson, Buckner suggests that earlier interpretations failed to understand the complexity of his life. While Johnson's profession as a barber allowed him to achieve acceptance and respectability, it also required him to be subservient to the needs of his all-white clientele. As Buckner shows, that does not mean that Johnson was only concerned with acceptance by whites or that he held himself apart from Natchez's Blacks. Instead, the sources on Johnson's life reveal a man deeply connected to and supportive of the broader African American community while catering to the whims of whites for economic and social survival. In the antebellum South, being a man required a public performance. As Buckner reveals, Johnson participated in that performance to a degree not seen in recent studies of Black masculinity. Outside his working hours, he competed with other men, white and Black, free and enslaved, in various masculine pursuits, especially gambling, hunting, and fishing. Johnson's barbershop was a prime location for witnessing and gossiping about the many fights in Natchez's notoriously violent streets. By making connections based on a shared sense of manliness, Johnson also found ways to engage with whites in civic matters and even challenged them on party politics via non-threatening means. Like many other free Black men, he asserted his manliness in ways beyond just rebelling against slavery. Buckner's long overdue reinterpretation of Johnson's life is a welcome addition to the LSU Press list that will serve as a needed corrective to earlier works about him"--