Working With Us A Narrative History Volume 2 Since 1865
I got handed a stack of these textbooks by a colleague who was leaving the department, and honestly I didn't know what to make of them at first. They're dense, they're organized chronologically in a way that doesn't always make pedagogical sense, and the paper quality is somewhere between newsprint and regret. But if you're using them in a classroom or trying to pull information out for a curriculum, there are ways to make them work without losing your mind. The core issue people run into is that Us A Narrative History Volume 2 Since 1865 treats the period from Reconstruction through the present as one continuous narrative arc, which means it covers roughly 150 years in about 600 pages of small-print text. You cannot read this cover to cover and expect to retain anything meaningful. What works instead is treating the book as a reference source while building your own structure around it.
Navigating Us A Narrative History Volume 2 Since 1865 in Practice
Here's what I actually do when I'm preparing lectures around this text. I pull up the table of contents and map out the major themes I want to hit for the semester, then I go directly to the relevant chapters rather than assigning the reading linearly. The book jumps around a lot internally too, so chapter numbering alone won't guide you well. You need to scan the subheadings. The chapters on the Progressive Era and the New Deal are relatively strong. The sections on cultural history in the post-1970 period feel thinner and more rushed, which is worth noting if you're grading papers that rely heavily on those pages. I've seen students cite the text on the Reagan era and get flagged because the coverage glosses over several policy details that any decent secondary source would catch. Cross-reference those sections with something like Eric Foner's work or at minimum a scholarly journal article. One specific problem I ran into last semester involved the chapter on the Civil Rights Movement. The textbook presents a fairly linear narrative of legislative victories, which is useful for a survey course but misses the intra-movement tensions that graduate seminars would expect. I had a student write a paper arguing that the textbook's framing implied the movement was inevitable and institutionally supported throughout, which is a misreading I should have caught earlier. My workaround was to assign the textbook chapter alongside excerpts from Diane McWhorter's Carry Me Home and some primary source documents from the Southern Historical Collection. That gap-filling approach saved the unit from being shallow.
The end-of-chapter questions are mediocre at best. They tend toward recall rather than analysis. I skip most of them and write my own discussion prompts based on the actual arguments the text is making, not just the facts it's listing. If you don't do this, students will treat the material as a list of dates and names to memorize, which defeats the purpose of having a narrative history in the first place. Another practical thing: the maps are uneven. Some chapters have excellent cartography, especially the ones dealing with westward expansion and urban migration patterns. Others have single, small maps that don't add much. When you're teaching from this book, don't assume the visuals will carry any interpretive weight. Bring in your own GIS layers or projected images when the text's visuals fall short. I typically supplement with the Library of Congress digital collections for primary imagery, which takes about ten minutes per lecture to pull together. The bibliography at the back of the volume is actually decent if you're looking for source recommendations for student research papers. I've assigned those reading lists to advanced undergraduates and they've worked well as starter bibliographies. Just remind students that many of the sources are older scholarship, so they should check citation counts and look for more recent interventions where the field has shifted.
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There's also the issue of tone. The narrative voice is consistently middle-of-the-road, which means it avoids controversial interpretations but also rarely offers anything particularly sharp or argument-driven. That's fine for an introductory course but frustrating if you're trying to model historical debate for students. I usually pair selections from this text with opposing viewpoints from other historians so students can see how narrative history differs from argument-driven historiography. Cost is another factor worth mentioning. These textbooks tend to run expensive, and the digital versions aren't always readily available through institutional licenses. If you're adopting this for a course, check whether the publisher offers a rental program or whether your library has reserve copies. I've had students struggle to access the material because they couldn't justify the purchase price, and that creates equity problems in the classroom that no amount of good pedagogy can fix. When I'm using this text, I typically assign about 40 to 50 pages per week for a standard semester course. That keeps the reading manageable while still giving students enough material to engage with the narrative structure. Anything more than that and the book's density works against you, because the prose is straightforward but the sheer volume of information per chapter means students skim rather than absorb.
The appendices and primary source documents scattered through the text are among the better features. I make students work through those documents in class rather than assigning them as homework, because the document analysis questions that accompany them are stronger than the chapter review questions. Spending 20 minutes in session unpacking a single primary source from the appendix usually yields more learning than a full reading assignment. If you're looking for a supplement that complements this text well, I'd recommend pairing it with The Black Panthers by Peniel Joseph for courses covering the 1960s, or perhaps Using the past for the present by James Young if you want to push students toward historiographical thinking. The textbook alone doesn't get you there, and pretending it does does a disservice to the students who are capable of more nuanced engagement. There's also a companion website that some editions include, though the quality varies significantly between print runs. I've encountered versions where the online materials are extensive and well-curated, and others where the digital supplements are barely functional. Check the ISBN on your edition before committing to using those resources, and don't invest time in online materials that turn out to be incomplete or broken.
The indexing is adequate but not great. When I need to find a specific topic across chapters, I sometimes spend more time flipping through index entries than I would just reading the relevant sections sequentially. For that reason, I keep a personal topic-to-chapter mapping document that I've built up over three years of teaching from this text. It's saved me hours and I wish I'd done it at the start instead of figuring it out the hard way. Ultimately this is a serviceable textbook for an introductory survey course. It's not groundbreaking, it doesn't challenge students to think critically about historical methodology, and it occasional makes debatable claims without signaling where the scholarship is contested. But for the right course level and with the right supplements, it does the job. The key is knowing its limitations and building your teaching around them rather than pretending the text can carry the full weight of an American history course on its own.