A narrative account of Reconstruction-era violence documents vigilante attacks on African Americans and their white allies, in a fast-paced analysis that traces the period as reflected by the careers of two Union officers, a Confederate general, a northern entrepreneur, and a former slave.

A few words about One Bloody Shirt at a Time Margarita Ricos is not just any deputy. She's smart. She's courageous. She's a twenty-five-year-old Chicana with attitude who grew up on the edge of the United States in Terlingua, Texas. There, the peoples and cultures of two countries are blended, more than separated, by the once-fierce Rio Grande. Terlingua is an unincorporated settlement built around a mercury mining ghost town of the same name. It lies in the southern part of Brewster County, the largest county in the largest state in the lower forty-eight. It has more square miles than inhabitants; and more mountains than you can count: tall, short, wide, narrow, jagged, rounded, naked, stunning mountains. Margarita and her partner, Deputy Barney George, are entrusted with preserving the peace and upholding the law in a land where the flowers and people grow wild. Crime in south Brewster County is seldom violent, and usually does not come in the form of murder or rape. Yet Norma Bates, a married, forty-five year old, mother of three, is found dead on her kitchen floor, lying in a pool of blood. There is a single stab wound in her chest. Deputy Ricos is about to conduct an interview about the murder when she receives a call from the sheriff. He says he has a couple from Terlingua in his office claiming their fourteen-year-old daughter was raped. Since Margarita is young, and known to the girl, perhaps she can get her to open up. The deputy is stunned by the sheriff's news. Murder—and now rape—what is going on in Terlingua? As the deputies work to solve both crimes, a sinister presence approaches Margarita in her home in the dark. Is it a murder suspect, or the unknown rapist, or a different kind of threat altogether?

The story of how Congress helped win the Civil War-placing a dynamic House and Senate, rather than Lincoln, at the center of the conflict.

Of all the great “what if” scenarios in American history, the aftermath of the presidential election of 1880 stands out as one of the most tantalizing. The end of the Civil War and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln had thrown the future of Lincoln’s vision for the country into considerable doubt; the years that followed—marked by impeachment, constitutional change, presidential scandals, and the contested election of 1876—saw Republicans fighting to retain power as they transitioned into the party of “big business.” Enter James A. Garfield, a seasoned politician known for his advocacy of civil rights, who represented the last potential Reconstruction presidency: truly, Benjamin T. Arrington suggests in this book, the last “Lincoln Republican.” The story of the presidential election of 1880, fully explored for the first time in The Last Lincoln Republican, is a political drama of lasting consequence and dashed possibilities. A fierce opponent of slavery before the war, Garfield had fought for civil rights for African Americans for years in Congress. Holding true to the original values of the Republican Party, Garfield wanted to promote equal opportunity for all; meanwhile, Democrats, led by Winfield Scott Hancock, sought to return the South to white supremacy and an inferior status for African Americans. With its in-depth account of the personalities and issues at play in 1880, Arrington’s book provides a unique perspective on how this critical election continues to resonate through our national politics and culture to this day. A close look at the contest of 1880 reveals that Garfield’s victory could have been the start of a period of greater civil rights legislation, a continuation of Lincoln’s vision. This was the choice made by the American people—and, as The Last Lincoln Republican makes poignantly clear, the great opportunity forever lost when Garfield was assassinated just a few months into his term.

Introduction: interpreting the "great war governor" and reconstruction senator -- A native son -- A rising republican star -- The election of 1860 -- The war governor -- One-man rule -- Copperheads, treason, and the election of 1864 -- Peace and paralysis -- Waving the bloody shirt -- A radical champion for African Americans -- Stalwart Republican -- The election of 1876 and the end of an era -- Morton and the politics of memory

NATIONAL BESTSELLER • NATIONAL BOOK AWARD FINALIST • An "extraordinary ... profoundly moving" history (The New York Times Book Review) of the American Civil War that reveals the ways that death on such a scale changed not only individual lives but the life of the nation. An estiated 750,000 soldiers lost their lives in the American Civil War. An equivalent proportion of today's population would be seven and a half million. In This Republic of Suffering, Drew Gilpin Faust describes how the survivors managed on a practical level and how a deeply religious culture struggled to reconcile the unprecedented carnage with its belief in a benevolent God. Throughout, the voices of soldiers and their families, of statesmen, generals, preachers, poets, surgeons, nurses, northerners and southerners come together to give us a vivid understanding of the Civil War's most fundamental and widely shared reality. With a new introduction by the author, and a new foreword by Mike Mullen, 17th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

When the Civil War broke out, Missouri was secured for the Union, but many Southern-leaning citizens in the border state resented the Federal occupation. Fighting along the border flared up again as hundreds of boys and young men took to the bush to champion the Rebel cause. Waging a particularly vicious brand of guerilla warfare, they stayed to fight long after regular Confederate forces had been driven from the state. Although William "Bloody Bill" Anderson always warrants special mention in books about Confederate Civil War guerrilla William Quantrill, Anderson's story has scarcely been told in its own right. In "The Civil War Story of Bloody Bill Anderson," Larry Wood aims to neither condemn nor to justify, but merely to tell a story that is fascinating-the story of perhaps the bloodiest man in America's bloodiest war.

‘Yes, it was be there or be square as, clad in the slum chic of the hipster, he issued the slang anthems of the zip age in the desperate esperanto of the bop. John Cooper Clarke: the name behind the hairstyle, the words walk in the grooves hacking through the hi-fi paradise of true luxury’ Punk. Poet. Pioneer. The Bard of Salford’s seminal collection is as scabrous, wry & vivid now as it was when first published over 25 years ago. ‘The godfather of British performance poetry’ Daily Telegraph