Popularizing the Past tells the stories of five postwar historians who changed the way ordinary Americans thought about their nation’s history. What’s the matter with history? For decades, critics of the discipline have argued that the historical profession is dominated by scholars unable, or perhaps even unwilling, to write for the public. In Popularizing the Past, Nick Witham challenges this interpretation by telling the stories of five historians—Richard Hofstadter, Daniel Boorstin, John Hope Franklin, Howard Zinn, and Gerda Lerner—who, in the decades after World War II, published widely read books of national history. Witham compellingly argues that we should understand historians’ efforts to engage with the reading public as a vital part of their postwar identity and mission. He shows how the lives and writings of these five authors were fundamentally shaped by their desire to write histories that captivated both scholars and the elusive general reader. He also reveals how these authors’ efforts could not have succeeded without a publishing industry and a reading public hungry to engage with the cutting-edge ideas then emerging from American universities. As Witham’s book makes clear, before we can properly understand the heated controversies about American history so prominent in today’s political culture, we must first understand the postwar effort to popularize the past.

In this lucide and fascinating volume, Eller traces the emergence of feminist matriarchal myth, explicates its functions, and examines the evidence for and against a matriarchal prehistory. Finally, she explains why this vision of peaceful, women-centered prehistory is something feminists should be wary of.

In the Edo period (1600–1868), status- and gender-based expectations largely defined a person’s place and identity in society. The wayfarers of the time, however, discovered that travel provided the opportunity to escape from the confines of the everyday. Cultured travelers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries wrote travel memoirs to celebrate their profession as belle-lettrists. For women in particular the open road and the blank page of the diary offered a precious opportunity to create personal hierarchies defined less by gender and more by culture and refinement. After the mid-eighteenth century—which saw the popularization of culture and the rise of commercial printing—textbooks, guides, comical fiction, and woodblock prints allowed not a few commoners to acquaint themselves with the historical, lyrical, or artistic pedigree of Japan’s famous sites. By identifying themselves with famous literary and historical icons of the past, some among these erudite commoners saw an opportunity to rewrite their lives and re-create their identities in the pages of their travel diaries. The chapters in Part One, “Re-creating Spaces,” introduce the notion that the spaces of travel were malleable, accommodating reconceptualization across interpretive frames. Laura Nenzi shows that, far from being static backgrounds, these travelscapes proliferated in a myriad of loci where one person’s center was another’s periphery. In Part Two, “Re-creating Identities,” we see how, in the course of the Edo period, educated persons used travel to, or through, revered lyrical sites to assert and enhance their roles and identities. Finally, in Part Three, “Purchasing Re-creation,” Nenzi looks at the intersection between recreational travel and the rising commercial economy, which allowed visitors to appropriate landscapes through new means: monetary transactions, acquisition of tangible icons, or other forms of physical interaction.

Today his memory lives on in the legends he helped promote, such as that of the Indian princess "Nita-nee," for whom Central Pennsylvania's Nittany Mountain is supposedly named, and his instrumental role in creating Pennsylvania's noted system of parks and forests and the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission.

Nations as well as individuals are in many ways the sum of their memories, which are shaped by perception as much as by events. This collection of essays by South African academics looks at the ways the country is dealing with its past, a complex mixture of colonialism, slavery, apartheid,struggle, and guilt. The emphasis is on how that past is being perceived and moulded in the post-apartheid era.

In Past, Present, and Future, Asimov has culled the best of his essays (some of which appear here for the first time) to form a fascinating journey through the world of astronomy, nuclear power, medicine, physics, history, music, film, politics, and other popular subjects. Our preeminent popularizer of science, Asimov takes on many of today's most discussed issues here - Star Wars, the Chernobyl disaster, genetic engineering, the creationism/evolution debate - with a flair, verve, and mastery that have won him innumerable readers. But he also includes many essays written in a personal vein, giving us disarmingly humorous accounts of his triple-bypass surgery and his "Hollywood Non-Career." An entertaining look at Asimov's committment to living in New York City (which he calls "Paradise") is afforded in "I Love New York." On a grand tour of the years ahead, in chapters like "Living on the Moon," "2084," "Should We Fear the Computer?" and "The New Learning," we are shown a future that is thrilling, fearsome, and, as the author insists, our present responsibility. Destined to take its place on the shelves of every Asimov fan, Past, Present, and Future is at once rational, argumentative, informal, and charming.