Books to Read about 1776

Are you looking for a book to read this summer for our 250th national birthday? Here are some of my favorites about the American founding and our Revolutionary War, plus some I haven’t read yet, which others recommend. The first five are historical fiction; the rest are nonfiction. My focus here ends at about 1783, well before the framing of the US Constitution.

A proper American childhood includes Esther Hoskins Forbes’ classic novel, Johnny Tremain, a 1944 Newbery Award winner. Fourteen-year-old Johnny is apprenticed to a silversmith but suffers an injury and must find other work. He ends up involved in early events of the American Revolution.

Robert Lawson’s Ben and Me is another gem for young readers of all ages, with its mouse’s-eye view of Ben Franklin.

Kenneth Roberts’ novels for older readers are on my reading list. Arundel and Rabble in Arms portray the Revolutionary War from ordinary soldiers’ perspectives. Oliver Wiswell portrays the period’s bitter realities and profound personal conflicts from an American Loyalist’s perspective. There’s more than one side to every story.

In nonfiction I devoured a lot of Landmark Books as a young reader, including Paul Revere and the Minutemen, Ben Franklin of Old Philadelphia, and The American Revolution. Every Landmark Book I ever read was engaging.

I’m a fan of the late historian David McCullough. Some historians grumble that he focused too much on telling the stories and too little on historical analysis, and too much on accomplishments and too little on character flaws, or that he didn’t engage in a proper leftist deconstruction of the American experiment. Yet readers flock to his books. You couldn’t make better choices this summer than 1776 and John Adams. History didn’t have to happen as it did, McCullough often said, and it very nearly didn’t.

For me George Washington is a hero among heroes. I recommend Joseph J. Ellis’s His Excellency: George Washington. Ellis cuts through the larger-than-life mythology to portray George Washington as a real person. Since I realize all humans are flawed, this doesn’t tarnish my hero. I find hope and encouragement in the accomplishments of real, imperfect people.

The Real George Washington: The True Story of America’s Most Indispensable Man by Jay A. Parry and Andrew M. Allison is a readable biography which embraces what some historians prefer to ignore or debunk: Washington’s faith and moral strength. The last 200 pages are selections from Washington’s writings, organized by topic.

Young readers will likely enjoy Ingri D’Aulaire and Edgar Parin D’Aulaire’s George Washington, a picture book with plenty of biographical meat on the bone.

Two of my out-of-the-box favorites about this period are Eric Burns’ Infamous Scribblers: The Founding Fathers and the Rowdy Beginnings of American Journalism and Bruce E. Johansen’s Forgotten Founders: How the American Indian Helped Shape Democracy. A promising young historian I know recommends Alan Taylor’s American Revolutions and, on the Declaration itself, Pauline Maier’s American Scripture.

I love to read historical figures’ own words, including their letters and speeches. Here I recommend six beautiful books from the vast Library of America series: Thomas Jefferson: Writings, George Washington: Writings, and four I’ve only browsed: two volumes of The American Revolution: Writings from the Pamphlet Debate; and two of Benjamin Franklin’s words. For a smaller but still robust dose of Franklin, grab a copy of his autobiography instead.

You might consider reading Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, a 47-page, bestselling incendiary device that ignited public debate about independence in January 1776.

My future reading list also includes Joseph J. Ellis’s highly-regarded Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation and Walter Isaacson’s Benjamin Franklin: An American Life.

Perhaps you’ve noticed a lot of men’s names in these titles and wondered about the women. I have sampled and recommend The Letters of John and Abigail Adams. Others recommend, but I haven’t read, Woody Holton’s biography, Abigail Adams: A Life, and Carol Berkin’s Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence.

I’ve read about half of these books and sampled most of the rest. This summer I plan to reread 1776. Then, if I can resist rereading Johnny Tremain next, I’m tempted toward Oliver Wiswell. It’s almost 1,200 pages, so it may stretch beyond summer. But I love a long novel, even a very long novel. Maybe I’ll take up the Adams’s correspondence at the same time. That’s another 500 pages or so. Whatever else we read this summer, let’s not forget to reread the Declaration of Independence. Preferably aloud. For added effect, read all the signers’ names aloud too.


Here’s a recording of me reading the Declaration of Independence aloud a few years ago, in case you’d prefer to listen and read along. Here’s a link to the transcription I used at the National Archives.

Originally published in The American Fork Citizen in June 2026. Reprinted with permission.

Photo by Ernie Journeys on Unsplash.


From the Author

David Rodeback

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Wanted: 250 American Fork Memories

Can you spare a happy memory? It’s for a birthday celebration.

I was recently invited to be the guest editor for a project we’re calling American Fork Memories. It’s part of American Fork’s official celebration of our nation’s 250th birthday.

From May 1 through August 31, we’re gathering and publishing 250 short, positive memories of life and work in American Fork. You can read them as we post them at afmemories.substack.com. When you go there, Substack will ask you to join and subscribe—both are free and require only an e-mail address—but you can bypass that and just read. If you do join Substack and subscribe to American Fork Memories, we’ll send you digests of memories by e-mail from time to time.

Just remembering is an act of civic and moral consequence, but please consider writing and submitting one of your memories. It should be 200–300 words long, roughly one-third the length of this column. We’ll publish one memory per person. Details and instructions for submitting your memory are at our Substack.

I already wrote mine. I chose one about the American Fork High School Marching Band. I connected it to two tragic memories, but the editor (cough) found it positive enough to qualify.

I’ve lived in six states and studied in Russia for a while. I’ve found good people in all those places. Some of my memories could have happened anywhere, I suppose, but they happened in American Fork. I’ll mention a few among many.

What I, the Reader, Owe the Author

Some books cost more than others. I don’t mean the dollars we pay for them. I mean the work done by the author and others, despite life’s challenges, great and small.

If you’ve seen the professional musicians in my family perform, you know they’re wonderfully talented. I watch them offstage too, so I see how much work they’ve invested to become the musicians they are, besides their preparations for specific performances. They never stop working and learning.

Writing is like that. About a dozen years ago, I decided to write fiction. That is, I decided to learn to write fiction. For decades I had written other things, with some success and sometimes professionally. But writing fiction is a different adventure.

How to Solve the NBA’s Tanking Problem

I love basketball, and I’m a Utah Jazz fan, but I’ve watched very little of the NBA this season. Too many teams are trying to lose games by the bushel to improve their draft position, including the Jazz. Losing is part of the game, but intentionally losing shouldn’t be. It ruins the product.

A Personal Tribute to Jeffrey R. Holland

Multitudes of BYU students, Latter-day Saints, and others met Jeffrey R. Holland at a pulpit or in his writings, where he changed lives, including mine. Relatively few of us sat at his feet day after day in a classroom.

When I arrived for the first day of the freshman Book of Mormon class he taught in my first semester at BYU, I was already a voracious reader of everything from history to mystery. I had read the entire Bible and Book of Mormon. So this will sound strange: in that class he taught me to read.

We Still Need Public Libraries

I’ve been thinking about public libraries. I’ve been in several recently, besides my own in American Fork. I had events at libraries in Provo, Logan, Herriman, Springville, and downtown Salt Lake City, plus an offsite fund-raiser for a new Alpine library.

I also saw news of an imperiled library near Logan. To save taxpayer dollars, some Cache County elected officials proposed closing it and leaving some county residents without free access to a library.

Obviously, not everyone values or uses public libraries. It can sound, oh, so trendy and wise to declare that whatever a library can offer is readily available on the Internet. It can sound, oh, so conservative and fiscally responsible to assert that whatever the taxpayers pay for libraries is too much.

I’m generally conservative but not obsessed with pinching every taxpayer penny. I’d rather conserve a civilization, including a political culture of self-government and an economic culture stacked with opportunities for have-nots to become haves. If this conservation were a shooting war, public libraries would be main battle tanks. They’re the point of the spear.

A Very Short Christmas Story in Lieu of a Column

Hi. I’m Nani. I’m a girl in Mrs. Eberding’s fifth grade class. Yousef’s in the class too. We’re the ones who read outside, behind the school, even when it’s cold, instead of having lunch in the cafeteria. I do it because I don’t like the cafeteria or the kids in it, and Mom lets me make my own sandwich. Yousef does it because he doesn’t eat lunch.

Once I offered him half my sandwich and learned his family doesn’t take charity. Or handouts like free school lunch, he said.

Another day, he was sad and wasn’t reading. I thought maybe they’d teased him about his thrift store clothes again. “They say I should go back where I came from,” he said.

“But you’re from here, your parents too, and everybody’s legal!”

“They don’t care.” He slipped something into his coat pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“What is it?”

He stared at me. “Don’t laugh. And you can’t tell anybody.”

Be More Human, Not Less

Imagine you and I are identical twins. We can look however you choose.

We were uncommonly close until some family, economic, or geopolitical upheaval separated us at age 12. We haven’t seen or heard from each other since. Now we’re 40. (I’m imagining too.) You’ve missed me, wondered how I’m doing and what my life is like, and longed to share all sorts of your life’s moments.

You’ve searched for me online over the years without success, and small wonder. Our surname is Jones and our given names Robert and Michael (or Mary and Elizabeth, as you please).

Today you find a letter from me in your mailbox, four typed pages with my handwritten signature at the end, plus a small photo. (We still look alike.) You read hungrily of more adventures than you’ve had and the natural beauties of the place where I now live. I mention childhood memories you don’t recall, but we all forget different things.

You’re delighted to reconnect. Before you reach the end, you restart at the beginning, you’re enjoying this so much.

Finally, you read my last lines: “I hate writing, so I had ChatGPT compose this. It’s not all true, but I wanted to send a long letter, now that I’ve found you.”

How do you feel now?