This essay examines an overlooked dimension of the American literary preoccupation with slavery since the 1970s – the mass-market genre of alternate histories of the Civil War that began to proliferate after the end of the civil rights movement. Focussing on the genre's unique blend of historical realism and counterfactual speculation, the essay argues that these novels turn to the Civil War in order to reevaluate the trajectory of US racial history and to reckon with the dramatic racial realignments of the post-civil rights period.

Portraits of sympathizers recur across American literature, from nineteenth-century narratives by Edward Everett Hale Jr., Loreta Velazquez, and Walt Whitman to Viet Thanh Nguyen's twenty-first-century novel. Together, their texts elucidate why this understudied trope remains provocative. Whereas nineteenth-century literature often imagines how sympathy fosters national cohesion, feeling for the enemy threatens such stability and prompts government efforts to regulate sentiment. Sympathizers may perform loyalty to claim the authority associated with white masculinity. Yet they also gain power by confessing to criminal sentiments. This figure thus embodies fantasies of rebellion, fears of national dissolution, and the state's affective power.

When the Rev. Pierce Connelly denounced Protestantism and converted to Catholicism in 1835, he inadvertently started a small newspaper war among the burgeoning religious press in America. While Catholic periodicals celebrated their newest addition in print, Protestant newspapermen were scandalized. They worried about how the clerical husband's conversion might affect his marital life should he pursue ordination in the Catholic Church. Soon, the Connellys dissolved their marriage in Rome and moved to England, where Pierce became a priest, and his wife Cornelia entered a convent. When, thirteen years later, Pierce reconverted and sued Cornelia “for the restoration of conjugal rights” in an English court, the case became an international sensation – with both British and American newspapers covering the developments and using the saga to comment on larger religious and political issues of their time. The two scandals demonstrate how the transatlantic press debated contested global concerns about the limits of religious freedom, the changing nature of marriage, church–state relations, and international law.

This article analyzes representations of the American West in The Nation magazine during the expansionist era of the 1870s. It traces an arc of growing anxiety regarding three central issues associated with western settlement and development: institutional scientific exploration, land policy, and Indian policy. Focussing primarily on the decade in which the magazine's peak circulation and, presumably, influence coincided with important developments regarding the aforementioned issues, the essay argues that The Nation’s coverage of the West, produced and circulated within a privileged and circumscribed social sphere and deeply inflected by the priorities of capital, provides counterpoint to widely shared optimism regarding the development of the region that stood as an emblem of the nation's future.

J. H. Wilkins, an African American railroad porter for the Pullman Company, was killed while on duty in April 1930. How he met his death has never been fully determined, but the Pullman Company's investigation file exposes the dangerous and racialized emotional terrain that porters navigated daily on their journeys across the US. By examining Wilkins's death, and the work of Pullman porters more broadly, this article makes the case that white control of black emotions in occupational and public spaces was a significant characteristic of the Jim Crow era, and demands further scholarly attention.

This article focusses on the career of Ben Burns, a white Jewish radical who came to play a central role in Chicago's black press during the mid-twentieth century. As an editor for periodicals such as the Chicago Defender, Negro Digest and Ebony, Burns helped to edit and develop some of the nation's most influential black publications. However, many of his readers remained oblivious to his racial identity – something which was both implicitly and explicitly obscured by his employers, and which was influenced by and manifested itself through the spatial politics of the workplace and the Chicago South Side. Drawing on a range of archival and biographical material, personal correspondence, and newspaper and magazine articles, this paper reconsiders Burns's literal movement through the terrain of Chicago's black press to assess his broader influence as a white editor in black journalism. Complicating depictions of Burns as a racial interloper, this article situates his contributions within a broader history of white participation in black print production. Furthermore, it demonstrates how the parameters of his role were heavily framed by the complex racial and spatial politics of the editorial room and Chicago's urban politics at mid-century.

Melville Shavelson's Cast a Giant Shadow (1966) stands alongside Otto Preminger's Exodus (1960) as one of the most notable Hollywood films to center on the founding of Israel. In this paper I argue that Cast a Giant Shadow is less concerned with the peculiarities of the nascent stages of the Arab–Israeli conflict, and instead functions as an unabashed endorsement of American military interventionism in foreign conflicts at a time in which the United States was dramatically escalating its military presence in Vietnam. The film is positioned as the second installment in an unofficial trilogy of overtly propagandistic pro-interventionist cinema produced by John Wayne's production company Batjac in the 1960s, alongside The Alamo (1960), Wayne's directing debut, and the notoriously jingoistic pro-Vietnam War film The Green Berets (1968). My analysis of this largely overlooked entry in the Wayne oeuvre ultimately reveals how Israel enabled Wayne to effectively put his art at the service of his political beliefs.

In 1975 American and Soviet spacecraft docked together in orbit as part of the Apollo–Soyuz Test Project (ASTP), the world's first international crewed space mission. Focussing on the project's political symbolism, this article argues that the ASTP was an attempt by the Nixon and Ford administrations to advertise US–Soviet detente by harnessing the optimistic imagery of “space brotherhood,” an instinctive kinship supposedly shared by American astronauts and Soviet cosmonauts. This was ultimately unsuccessful, as detente's critics appropriated the mission for their own symbolic use to attack US–Soviet detente as a fantastical escape from earthly problems.

Pearl Abraham's 2010 novel American Taliban uses the “true” story of John Walker Lindh, a white US citizen captured fighting for the Taliban in Afghanistan in 2001, to reflect on the intense mediation of public trauma in the early days of the “War on Terror.” This article discusses the significance of American Taliban as a post-“9/11” work of literary fiction which, by imagining individual agency and interrogating the relationship between a racialized “Americanness,” treason and sovereignty, invites its readers to be critical of historical, political and media narratives in the so-called “post-truth era.”

As ideas of masculinity have changed in the United States, so too has the presentation of men on television. This article, then, explores a range of characters that have characteristics associated with the alpha male in the unusually vulnerable position of the patient, in a variety of programmes from generic detective dramas through to critically acclaimed productions, to analyse how programme makers navigate questions of masculinity against the cultural backdrop of the most recent fin de siècle. It also demonstrates a range of responses by programme makers, including some that question hypermasculine tendencies only to ultimately reinforce them.