In A Students' Guide to U.S. History, author Wilfred M. McClay challenges the mind of the reader to think wider, deeper and higher about the study of American history. After explaining the purpose behind this book, he elaborates on what the study of history mistakenly is thought to be, before he realigns the reader's mind to what it should be. Taking a philosophical turn of mind, he dares the reader to search for truth; to do otherwise would be folly.

Rather than consider the study of American history as a boring parade of facts, he implores the reader to consider it "as a drama of incomparable sweep and importance." At the same time, he reminds us that "American history needs to be seen in the context of a larger drama."

Another reason he gives for studying history is because it tells us about ourselves.

Calling it a gallery of windows, there are a number of topics related to the study of history he suggests studying: America and Europe, Capitalism, Founding, Frontier, and many others. He gives an overview of each topic, discusses the proper lens through which the reader should view each topic, and offers additional reading selections. He closes with a list of dos and don'ts for studying and researching history and offers a final list of suggested reading.

Overall, the style of writing although intellectual and challenging at times, is not incomprehensible, stretching our vocabularies with an occasional, unfamiliar word or phrase, such as "opine portentously," "incommensurable," or "cynosure."

Even though the book is intended for college age students, a high school student or anyone for that matter interested in the study of history would benefit from this book. My only caution would be that a parent read any of the suggested fiction titles before handing them to a high school student. Some are not a problem, but others warrant discussion, or may contain parts which would be considered objectionable.

This guide is also available to download for free at the Intercollegiate Studies Institute home page.

Set in Palestine in the days leading up to the fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D., this is a beautiful and powerful story of a Greek family living in the city of Philadelphia. On one of his business journeys, their father, who is a merchant/businessman, rescues a man whom Roman soldiers had left in the desert to die. The merchant's three sons have diverse reactions to this stranger who becomes part of the household, but when the Father is killed by bandits on a later journey, it seems that this stranger without a memory may have a providential role in their future.

The story illustrates the struggles of those caught up in the brutality of Roman rule, the horror of the fall of Jerusalem and touches upon the mysteries of suffering and death. While dealing with the different sorts of reactions that people have to the evils of Rome, the story does highlight – albeit in a subtle way (as good literature should) – the true paths that Christ showed us. An especially interesting contrast can be seen between the courage of the Christians before death (inspired by Christ and given his grace) with the Jews rebelling against Rome (whose motivations involved patriotism, but also hate).

The story is not overly intense, gory, or otherwise objectionable, but dwells upon serious and mature themes of death and suffering in a way suitable to teens and adults. Although the book is a sequel to The Ides of April (which is not apparent until well into the book), it could be read on its own as well.

I learned a few things from this young adult book about the life of Charles Darwin after his adventures on the H.M.S. Beagle. The book is based on his and his wife’s diary entries and because Charles was the more prolific writer we have more of his insights than Emma’s. The quoted material is more of a sprinkling than a basis for the book so it is mostly the author’s interpretation rather than their actual words. Charles was agnostic from the start. His father was a wealthy physician whose money bankrolled Charles’s scientific career and lavish home life (which turned out to be a very good investment). He was a Unitarian, which the author describes as “a lenient Christian faith” though most other Christians would not agree; they would be more in line with Charles’s grandfather, Erasmus, who said it was a “featherbed to catch a falling Christian.” Charles studied theology at Cambridge because everyone studied theology that went to university in those days; University College London, the first “godless” institution, didn’t open until 1826. Charles did not do well, though he steeped himself in the Natural Philosophy of the day—the notion that the beauty of nature proved God’s existence. This very popular philosophy during Darwin’s time is what was so threatened by his hypothesis of Natural Selection because, in Darwin's mind, evolution did not require God to develop the beauty of creatures. When someone like Charles has been raised without a clear theology and tends to take up the current philosophical fad of the day (he later followed Francis Newman for awhile until he disagreed with him, too,) we are not surprised by his eventual atheism. Charles, however, did not have the animosity towards people of faith as many of the atheists of today have. Overall, Charles was a highly reserved man who did not want to offend anyone. (In fact he likely suffered from panic disorder and agoraphobia.) He was even incapable of disciplining his own children, though he had nannies to take care of that. Ultimately it was this extreme Victorian reserve that held him back from publishing his thoughts on the very controversial topic of Natural Selection until he could have complete proof that he was right, perhaps the same level of proof he sought after in his search for God. While he never took the leap of faith required of a Christian believer, he did publish his theory without iron-clad proof ultimately because someone else was going to beat him to it. He received a letter from Alfred Wallace who conceived the very same theory, and even then he needed some coaxing from his friends, who also testified that Charles came up with it first. Emma Wedgwood, from the family of pottery fame, was Charles’s affluent cousin. According to the book “Charles’s Wedgwood cousins had been brought up with few, if any, rules and the encouragement to think freely.” She is often stated to be “deeply religious” though after reading this book I question people’s definition of that term. After suffering the tragic loss of Emma’s sister, Fanny, Emma’s faith was then derived mostly from a desire to see a loved one in the afterlife rather than on any deep personal belief. This theme is emphasized by the author throughout the book. I am not surprised she was unable to convince her loving husband of the existence of God. She, too, picked and chose what she wanted to believe. She turned away from the altar during mention of the Trinity, and their daughter Elizabeth decided not to be confirmed because she also did not believe in the Trinity. The frequent mention of “free thinking” in the book seemed a nod to modern rationalism. (Freethinkers, ironically, can only form opinions based on logic and science without philosophy or theology, which seems hypocritical to me.) Though the book is based on the writings of Charles and Emma, the author does give us a good dose of her own Secularist filter. The most telling words in this regard are: “For his part, Charles admitted that Emma had been right when she said that his looking at the world in a scientific way probably precluded him from looking at it in a religious way. Perhaps to do the great science he did, he had to focus entirely that way—to let religion in would have diluted his effort. That did not mean he would deny Emma—or anyone—their beliefs. But for him, science was the way to get answers.” (pg. 213) Emma must not have been familiar with the long and important history of scientific discovery brought about by people of faith that continues today. This false generalization is the result of ignorance given her social circles, though it is a stereotype that the author willingly perpetuates. The enjoyment of the book came through the loving and devoted relationship between Charles and Emma throughout their lives and tragedies. We learn about living a privileged life in Victorian England. They had 10 children, one who died at less than a month, another at age 10, and their last at age 2. Charles himself was plagued with sickness throughout his life (though the book does not mention panic disorder as the likely cause). Emma mothered him and he was willingly a child around her. She gave great comfort to Charles as well as the children during their times of illness. We really don’t get much of a scientific history; the book is primarily the personal life of Charles and Emma Darwin. One tidbit I found interesting is how different their painted portraits looked from their photographs; I would not have thought them to be of the same subjects. The book brings to light so much of the religious confusion in 19th century England. Unfortunately the author’s anti-religious filter stifles the potential for it to enlighten the reader regarding this turbulent time so well reflected by the Darwin family. In the end the religious story is a tragic one for the Darwin clan, deteriorating into the birth of the Eugenics movement through Charles’s cousin Francis Galton that was endorsed by Charles himself (also not mentioned in the book). I am disappointed to find a modern trend in children’s book awards to select titles with anti-religious themes, this book being no exception. Charles and Emma: The Darwins' Leap of Faith has received the YALSA-ALA Excellence in Young Adult Nonfiction award, was a National Book Award finalist, and is an honor book of the ALA’s Printz Award.