As recommended by Ed from the U of C alumni bookclub,

This book is truly a gem. It offers a unique perspective on [topic]. The author's writing style is engaging and easy to follow, making it accessible to a wide range of readers.

The story unfolds in a captivating manner, filled with interesting characters and unexpected plot twists. It explores various themes such as [list some themes], which will surely make you think and reflect.

Whether you're a member of the U of C alumni or simply a book lover, this book is definitely worth checking out. You won't be disappointed.

So, pick up a copy today and embark on this literary journey.

In concept, this book was indeed interesting.

It vividly tells the story of seven Mississippi sheriffs who were captured in a Life Magazine photo just before the race riot over the integration of the University of Mississippi (famously known as "Ole Miss").

The author painstakingly examines the lives of each racist sheriff, with some being explored in more detail than others. Then, the author traces the evolution of their racist attitudes forward through the next generations of their families.

However, unfortunately, in execution, this book falls short.

As an initial matter, the lives of the individuals in the photo simply were not that captivating. Although they were sheriffs during an eventful time, the men themselves did little of real significance and for the most part, had little impact on history. Their counterparts were even more insignificant, amounting to nothing more than ordinary individuals.

This results in dull storytelling, and I found myself constantly struggling to stay engaged throughout the book.

In addition, the book was poorly organized,跳跃 around from person to person and family to family. This made it extremely difficult to discern whatever point Hendrickson was attempting to make.

In short, if you are in search of a book on race relations in Mississippi from the 1960s onward, there are likely better options available for that subject. Nevertheless, Mr. Hendrickson does deserve some credit for identifying a novel framework within which to tell that story.

The author employs a captivating picture by the renowned Civil-Rights photographer Charles Moore and elaborates on it.

He closely examines each of the seven men in the photo, conducts interviews with their peers and descendants, and delves into the history of the towns where they served as Sheriff or Deputy-Sheriff.

The author endeavors to uncover the true legacy of these seven individuals in the present-day world.

However, this is a challenging narrative to piece together as he takes numerous tangents. I am intrigued to observe how he will neatly tie them all together at the conclusion.

I have a fondness for this book for several reasons. Firstly, I gleaned a wealth of knowledge - about the chronological sequence of Civil Rights history in Mississippi and about the state itself.

Secondly, I appreciate books that utilize a qualitative approach in evaluating actions, behavior, and consequences. This book was extremely thought-provoking.

Finally, the author does not necessarily arrive at definitive conclusions; instead, he leaves that task to the reader. He appears to be at least somewhat open-minded when it comes to judging people, although not so much regarding events.

I am curious: how does one feel knowing that what one writes about another person might not align with that person's preferences - especially after having been a guest in their home?

One surprise was how tormented James Meredith is/was. It is truly very sad.

This piece of historical research is extremely solid, presenting a unique and captivating approach to documenting a significant event in the history of Civil Rights in America.

It delves deep into the details, uncovering aspects that might have been overlooked by others. The author's perspective brings a fresh light to the subject, making it not only informative but also highly engaging.

By using this particular approach, the research manages to vividly capture the essence of the event, allowing readers to better understand the context, the struggles, and the triumphs.

It serves as a valuable contribution to the field of Civil Rights history, offering new insights and perspectives that will surely spark further discussions and research.

Overall, this is a remarkable piece of work that showcases the importance of solid historical research and the power of a unique approach in presenting complex and significant events.

OST NON-FICTION ADULT STK 305.8 HEN

This is an interesting and engaging non-fiction work for adults. It likely delves into various aspects of a particular subject matter, perhaps offering in-depth knowledge, analysis, and unique perspectives.

The title, along with the specific classification number, gives us an idea of its genre and its place within the broader realm of non-fiction literature.

Readers can expect to embark on a journey of discovery as they explore the pages of this book. It may cover topics such as history, science, technology, or any other area that falls within the non-fiction category.

Whether you are a curious individual looking to expand your knowledge or a dedicated non-fiction enthusiast, this work has the potential to provide valuable insights and entertainment.

So, pick up this book and let yourself be immersed in the world of non-fiction, where facts and ideas collide to create a truly enriching reading experience.

I discovered this to be an extremely intriguing manner to approach a historical event. It was truly well worth the read, and considering the mere $1 price tag at Big Lots, it was an absolute steal.

We are all familiar with the stories that encircle an event in history. However, we seldom hear about how those events have a profound impact on the events that unfold in the years to come. And that is precisely the reason why this book is truly worth reading.

It offers an interesting perspective on a group of law men and their descendants. It delves into how the choices they made at the very moment the photo was taken played a crucial role in shaping all of the subsequent events in their lives.

I wholeheartedly and highly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in history or a desire to gain a deeper understanding of how past events can have a lasting influence.

Historical subject matter but not really a historical book (ie something written by a historian). At first, I truly didn't enjoy this book. The initial pages seemed rather dull and uninteresting. However, as I delved deeper into it, something magical happened. It became a lot better.

I really enjoyed the way the author went through the different elements of the one cover image. Each explanation added a new layer of meaning to his narrative. It was like uncovering hidden treasures with each turn of the page. The author's ability to analyze and dissect the cover image was truly remarkable.

If I could, I would give it a 3.5/5. But upon further reflection, I don't think it merits a 4 from me. There were still some aspects that could have been improved upon. Maybe the pacing could have been a bit faster in certain sections or the writing could have been more engaging. Nevertheless, it was still a decent read that provided some interesting insights into the historical subject matter.

On the morning of my checkout, I descended to inquire of the desk clerk whether I could peruse a copy of the bill prior to settling it. Having made numerous long-distance calls, I was eager to ensure the accuracy of the charges. As I examined the sheet, I noticed the word “Foreign” inscribed beside amounts such as $1.24, $2.47, and $8.51. “But this can’t be right, sir,” I asserted. “I didn’t place any international calls.” “Oh, that simply indicates out-of-state calls,” he replied.

There is a photograph. It hails from Life magazine, dated September 27, 1962.

It portrays seven sheriffs from across all of Mississippi who, in conjunction with others, have converged upon the University of Mississippi campus. The man in the middle, Sheriff Billy Ferrell, is chuckling while brandishing a club. The sheriffs surrounding him appear equally entertained.

In three days’ time, following several unsuccessful attempts by a black student named James Meredith to gain entry to the University, a riot will erupt. Many will be injured, several will lose their lives, and everyone involved, including Meredith, Ferrell, the other sheriffs, and all of their descendants, will sense its reverberations long after the final brick has been hurled and the last fire extinguished.

There are copious books regarding the Civil Rights movement, even about the riot on the Ole Miss campus (although that seminal event seems to have receded further into memory), but Hendrickson poses a question here that is less frequently asked: what are the longer-term consequences of such virulent hate?

Long after legislation has been enacted and those who were present have passed away as well, does the hate of the perpetrators trickle down to their sons? And what of the victims? Does their pain, their frustrations, and their anguish find its way into the next generation?

In Hendrickson’s profiles of these men, the answer is, like the events of that era, murky. Some are almost tragically unrepentant for the sins of their fathers, not ready to concede that they are sins at all. In others, one can detect the burden in their words, in the directions their lives have taken.

It is perhaps facile to feel some sympathy for these men who are not accountable for the actions of their fathers and grandfathers, but perhaps the most empathetic character for me is James Meredith himself.

No matter how hard we endeavor, it is beyond human ken to fathom what life was like for him as the sole black student there. Trays continuously slamming on tables as he dined in the cafeteria, federal marshals assigned to him uncovering daily new stashes of weapons stored in close proximity to Meredith, as well as the constant threats to his life.

Knowing this, can we forgive the Meredith who, after graduation, would become increasingly erratic and grandiose as the spotlight dimmed around him, culminating in his becoming a clerk for Jessie Helms? Did the daily and insufferable pressure he endured cause something within him to be unable to cope with it any longer later in life?

Meredith’s sons, in their own fashion, even out of their father’s shadow in relative anonymity, each grappled in their own way with his complex legacy.

It is perhaps too apt to quote Faulkner on the past not even being past when discussing the legacy of racism in Mississippi, but when reflecting upon the lives of these sheriffs assembled together on a sunny September afternoon, and their descendants, one can only hope that a grandson, a great-grandson, a granddaughter, will someday gaze upon their legacy and resolve that this is the moment, the time, and the hate ceases with them.

I found myself getting bogged down while reading this book. So, after reading about half of it, I decided to move on.

The profiles of Mississippi Law men in the 60’s are truly intriguing. It gives us a glimpse into their lives and the challenges they faced during that era.

However, the specifics of events in Mississippi, such as who was there and who said what, are not the main reason I wanted to read the book. I was more interested in the overall theme and the broader context.

Despite not finishing the entire book, I’m glad I read what I did. It has provided me with some valuable insights and has piqued my curiosity about this particular time period.

I may come back to it at a later date and finish reading it, but for now, I’m content with what I’ve learned.

Overall, it was an interesting read, and I would recommend it to others who are interested in learning about the history of Mississippi and the role of Law men during the 60’s.

A bit slow moving but fascinating. This statement can apply to many things in life. For example, a historical documentary might seem to progress at a leisurely pace, but the wealth of information and the captivating stories it reveals make it truly fascinating. Similarly, a nature walk in a peaceful forest may initially feel slow as we take in the details of the scenery around us. However, as we observe the intricate patterns of the leaves, the sounds of the birds chirping, and the gentle rustling of the wind, we realize the beauty and wonder that lies within. Even a complex novel with a slow build-up can draw us in and keep us engaged as we become invested in the characters and their journeys. Sometimes, it is in the slowness that we are able to fully appreciate the true essence and allure of something.

This work offers one of the more profound insights into the contemporary Deep South.

It delves into the lives and thoughts of ordinary individuals who are the products of bigotry, making it a truly engaging read.

Moreover, it is rather fascinating to explore the premise further: the in-depth analysis of the lives hidden behind a single photograph and how Mississippi has evolved in response to the changing times.

The author skillfully weaves together the personal stories and the broader historical and social context, painting a vivid picture of a region in transition.

Readers will find themselves drawn into the lives of these characters and gain a new understanding of the complex issues that have shaped the Deep South.

This book is not only a captivating account of individual experiences but also a thought-provoking examination of the forces that have influenced the region's development.

It serves as a reminder that history is not just a collection of facts but a living, breathing narrative that continues to unfold.

Overall, it is a must-read for anyone interested in the Deep South, American history, or the human condition.

In February 1995, Paul Hendrickson, a reporter for The Washington Post, was browsing in a bookstore in Berkeley. There, he chanced upon a book of photographs by Charles Moore from the civil rights era.

One photo in particular caught his eye. It showed a group of white men, their attention focused on a man gripping a wooden stick as if it were a baseball bat. He had a cigarette clenched in his teeth and was demonstrating, with evident amusement, how he intended to use the stick. Meanwhile, the man to his left, with a cigarette dangling from his upper lip, was tearing a piece of white cloth into strips. A man at the extreme right of the photo had tied one of the strips around his left arm.

Another man, with a Stetson pushed back on his head, was laughing, perhaps at what the stick man was doing. At the left of the photo, a man with the soggy stub of a cigar in his mouth was similarly amused. In the background, a serious-looking man was apparently in conversation with a man obscured by the others.

Context is everything. When Hendrickson learned that these men were Mississippi sheriffs, gathered on the campus of the University of Mississippi in September 1962 just before the attempt of a black man, James Meredith, to enroll at the university, he thought he understood the context. Recognition flooded in: these were racist lawmen of a certain age and time, kinsmen of the bully cops of Birmingham, Montgomery, and Selma.

Hendrickson knew these men, or men like them. They were his neighbors, his uncles, his friends' fathers, and his Sunday school teachers and scoutmasters. Growing up in Mississippi, he had heard them say appalling things about black people. Even 40 or 50 years later, the memory made his gorge rise. Yet he also knew that when they weren't spewing racist filth, they could be men one could respect and even love. It was as if, in their lives, a tributary of human feeling had been dammed, grown stagnant and polluted, and its foulness had seeped out and corrupted a mainstream that should have run clear.

Hendrickson has noted this paradox too: "In the South, as has been observed, people who aren't victims of injustice often are victims of irony." Is it any wonder that so many Mississippians have written so much good fiction?

If we look at any image long enough, it begins to "tease us out of thought," as Keats put it. Something kept Hendrickson looking at this image: "I wanted to know: How did these seven white Southerners get to be this way, and how did it all end, or how is it still going on, and was there no eventual shame here, and what happened to their progeny, especially their progeny, and was it all just ineluctable?"

It seems that no one spends much time in Mississippi without trying to write like Faulkner, resorting to words like "progeny" and "ineluctable." Hendrickson spent a lot of time in Mississippi trying to answer the questions raised by this picture. Context is everything, but contexts have contexts, ad infinitum. Especially when dealing with something as integral to the American experience as racial conflict.

For seven years, Hendrickson searched through the contexts of this image. Most of the men in the picture were dead, but their families, as well as the two surviving men, sat down to talk with him. The survivors were defensive but not apologetic. Hendrickson tells us: "Anything in the direction of atonement or expiation -- even if never named that or understood as such -- has been left to sons, or to sons of sons, or to sons of sons of sons."

The most poignant profiles in his book are of the grandsons of two of the men. John Cothran's grandfather is the man with the armband in the photo, then the sheriff in the Mississippi Delta town of Greenwood. The grandson is a man with anger-management problems that wrecked three marriages before he was 30, a high school dropout who works as a supervisor at a Home Depot, a job that gives him more stress than gratification.

Ty Ferrell's grandfather is the man with the stick, Billy Ferrell, the sheriff in Natchez. Ty has followed in the family profession, but not in Mississippi. He's a Border Patrol agent, working out of El Paso, and is so deeply conflicted about what he's doing that it sometimes brings him close to tears in his conversations with Hendrickson. Ty exhibits "what seemed like existential torment, as if he were meant to be a roiling repository for so many unnamed, unclaimed Ferrell family shames."

Hendrickson understands the pain of John Cothran and Ty Ferrell, which makes the profiles of the grandsons more affecting than those of the men who appear in the photo. But he never succeeds in answering the first of his questions: How did they get to be this way? "It's so puzzling that a land of such charm and physical beauty, a people of such natural grace and disposition to kindness, could have so appalling a history," Hendrickson muses. How did a bigotry so pathological take hold of an entire region?

The best Hendrickson can do is to cite "The Mind of the South," W.J. Cash's 1941 classic. Cash, a Southern journalist, wrote of a "crisis of white masculinity": "The ultimate and as-yet-unrealized expression of the overthrow of slavery in the white male mind would be the destruction of the white sexual order." So Hendrickson asks about the men in the picture, "Is it too much to suggest that there may be a faint undertone of sexualized tension in their faces?"

What Hendrickson sees in this picture, he has seen in locker rooms, committee meetings, and other all-male gatherings, where testosterone speaks to testosterone and the old primate emerges. But he also sees the products of a closed system, of a place where opinions went unchallenged by other ways of thinking, to the point that prevailing attitudes could be swaddled in a communal bigotry. (There are many other places like this in the world, which makes understanding the Mississippi experience all the more crucial.)

By far the most potent figure in Hendrickson's book is a man who doesn't appear in the photograph: James Meredith. He shattered the monolithic system of racial repression. But Meredith stepped out to his own drummer. After graduating from Ole Miss, he refused to align with any civil rights organization, starting his own solitary crusade for voting rights. He even took a job as an aide to Sen. Jesse Helms and endorsed ex-Klansman David Duke's candidacy for the Republican presidential nomination. Hendrickson's interviews with Meredith only reinforce his reputation for eccentricity.

As the 40th anniversary of Meredith's entrance to Ole Miss approached, his son, Joe, quietly enrolled in a Ph.D. program in business at the university. Joe, who had graduated magna cum laude from Harvard, seems puzzled by his father too. He tells Hendrickson, "My father has an overwhelming need to be famous and so will do whatever he thinks will provide that and get him attention -- Jesse Helms, David Duke, you name it, even if it's only for a day."

"Sons of Mississippi" feels like a substantial, maybe even essential, contribution to our understanding not only of Southern racism, but also of the ways that the past can mark and mar. The book is sometimes over-reported, and complexities sometimes overwhelm Hendrickson. But he is a humane observer who can disarm the reader's impatience. And he's clearly on a mission. As he puts it, "In Mississippi, nothing ever changes, and everything always changes, and sometimes it seems as if God put Mississippi on earth purely for our moral and confounding contemplation."