Mark Twain observed that "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme." Readers will certainly find much familiar in the history that Paul Strathern chronicles in Napoleon in Egypt. A great Western power, angered by the behavior of a Middle Eastern regime, sends an army to set things right and bring good government to the downtrodden masses. The resulting occupation is marred by atrocities and cultural misunderstanding, incites a rebellion and starts a larger war. The invaders are ultimately defeated by attrition and mismanagement.

But as a mirror of modern times, Napoleon Bonaparte's doomed 1798 venture into the Nile valley and the Levant is imperfect. Napoleon, as Strathern admirably proves, viewed Egypt as merely the first step on his journey to personal glory. He planned an overland invasion of south Asia and India, thereby repeating the accomplishment of his hero, Alexander the Great. The revolutionary government in France had no control over Napoleon during his three years in the Middle East – thanks largely to a British naval blockade – making him not just a military governor, but de facto Sultan of Egypt and ruler of all he surveyed. Napoleon tried to introduce reforms to the suspicious, xenophobic population. But even the presence of a contingent of French savants – intellectuals from all branches of science and the arts – seemed aimed more at burnishing Napoleon's ego than improving Egypt. That the savants made real contributions to science during the occupation is now a footnote in any field except Egyptology, which was founded during those difficult years.

Ultimately, Napoleon's invasion brought him the glory he desired, but in an unintended way. The broader war it started allowed him to seize control of France and most of Europe. Strathern, a prize – winning novelist as well as a historian, has probed Napoleon's complex personality, both the megalomania for which he is vilified and the military prowess for which he is admired, and has in the process created a highly readable lesson in the rhymes of history.

Chris Scott writes from Nashville.

A really good volume of history provides the reader with a keen sense of perspective and a genuine appreciation for the past. This is exactly what David S. Reynolds does in Waking Giant: America in the Age of Jackson, which authoritatively describes the early to middle part of the American 19th century and makes clear how important this period was to the nation's growth in sociocultural, industrial and political terms. The first third of Reynolds' book is compellingly crafted, offering an incisive examination of the so-called Era of Good Feelings (early 1800s, post-Founding Fathers), leading into the administration of Andrew Jackson (1829 – 1837).

Reynolds delivers a fascinating profile of John Quincy Adams, Jackson's predecessor, who was a genius but didn't play politics very well. Other important statesmen of the time – Daniel Webster, Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun – get their due, but best of all are the author's insights into Old Hickory, exchanging the stereotyped perception of a rough – hewn rube for an admiring respect. Jackson, his obvious administrative blunders aside, was unafraid to wield power, showed what a president could do with a veto and oversaw the foundational development of a burgeoning empire. Jackson's reign had warts – including his ruthless pragmatism in relocating Native American populations – but his impact on infrastructure (never underestimate the importance of a paved road in a frontier land), westward migration, commerce, banking and the general assertion of the U.S. into the international sphere was huge.

Reynolds grapples with art, literature, religion, philosophy, even the theater of the day in subsequent chapters, which help to characterize the distinctively emerging individualist and outspoken American spirit. Reynolds pushes his narrative forward past the Jackson years in an effort to provide some continuity and context to key national trends and events. His coverage stops short of the Civil War, when the long-overdue and critical encounters with festering sectionalism and the slavery question are finally met head-on. The marvel here is how Reynolds tackles textbook material with a great deal of stylish and involving writing.

Martin Brady is a Nashville-based writer.