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The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram: The Man Who Stared Down World War II in the Name of Love
The dramatic and heartrending true story of one remarkable young man's account of love in the time of war, by a celebrated historian of untold Black stories
On the eve of World War II, a handsome young scholar arrived in Paris. The queer, Black son of a housecleaner, who had nevertheless been decorated in the halls of Harvard and Columbia, Reed Peggram flirted with Leonard Bernstein, sat for portraits by famous artists, charmed minor royalty and became like a little brother to famed researcher and writer Jan Gay. Finally in Europe and on the same prestigious scholarship as literary luminaries Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes before him, he ignored the increasingly alarmed calls to return home to a repressive, segregated America and a constrained life as a second class citizen. And as tensions grew and gas masks were distributed in the City of Lights, Reed turned instead to the new life he’d made: with Arne, a tall and dashing Danish scholar with whom he had formed a deep bond.
Award-winning historian Ethelene Whitmire unearthed a trove of Reed’s letters when she met one of his descendants at a lecture, awed that she’d heard so little of this charismatic man and his fascinating true story of love and war. In The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram, she introduces us to an unforgettable character who fled from country to country as fighting advanced, was captured by Nazis and outwitted them in a daring escape, and risked it all in a personal fight for a life of love, freedom, beauty and dignity in a world set against him.
On the eve of World War II, a handsome young scholar arrived in Paris. The queer, Black son of a housecleaner, who had nevertheless been decorated in the halls of Harvard and Columbia, Reed Peggram flirted with Leonard Bernstein, sat for portraits by famous artists, charmed minor royalty and became like a little brother to famed researcher and writer Jan Gay. Finally in Europe and on the same prestigious scholarship as literary luminaries Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes before him, he ignored the increasingly alarmed calls to return home to a repressive, segregated America and a constrained life as a second class citizen. And as tensions grew and gas masks were distributed in the City of Lights, Reed turned instead to the new life he’d made: with Arne, a tall and dashing Danish scholar with whom he had formed a deep bond.
Award-winning historian Ethelene Whitmire unearthed a trove of Reed’s letters when she met one of his descendants at a lecture, awed that she’d heard so little of this charismatic man and his fascinating true story of love and war. In The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram, she introduces us to an unforgettable character who fled from country to country as fighting advanced, was captured by Nazis and outwitted them in a daring escape, and risked it all in a personal fight for a life of love, freedom, beauty and dignity in a world set against him.
320 pages, Hardcover
Published February 3, 2026
16 people are currently reading
4505 people want to read
About the author
Ethelene Whitmire
4 books25 followersEthelene Whitmire is a writer and professor, and the former chair of the Department of African American Studies at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. Ethelene is the author of The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram (forthcoming February 2026) and Regina Anderson Andrews, Harlem Renaissance Librarian. Her research has won awards and funding from the Ford Foundation, the Fulbright Program, the Lois Roth Foundation, the American Scandinavian Foundation, and the American Library Association. She received her Bachelor’s and Master’s from Rutgers University – New Brunswick and Ph.D. from the University of Michigan – Ann Arbor. She was a former Librarian-in Residence at Yale University before becoming a professor at the University of California – Los Angeles, and her current institution, the University of Wisconsin - Madison. She’s published essays in the New York Times, Smithsonian Magazine, Narratively, and Longreads. She has been a fellow at artists’ residencies at Yaddo, Ucross, Hedgebrook, and Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Born in New Jersey, she now divides her time between Madison, Wisconsin and Copenhagen, Denmark.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
February 26, 2026
Not what I expected but edifying in the description of racism in the 1930s and beyond. A gay black man gets into Harvard, Columbia, and the Sorbonne but is unemployable because of his blackness. He begins to write, meets a white man, falls in love, and refuses to leave him as World War II grips Europe.
I wanted to go on the writing journey with the author, the research and discovery, instead I got a wonderfully detailed biography.
Still good.
I wanted to go on the writing journey with the author, the research and discovery, instead I got a wonderfully detailed biography.
Still good.
March 5, 2026
Before diving too deeply into this title, it’s worth noting a detail that significantly reshapes the reading experience: Teju—Reed’s great-niece—is the daughter of Tarik, who is the son of Reed’s younger brother Vincent Farrar.
As someone who is deeply interested in genealogy, I have to admit that it bugged me to no end that this connection wasn’t revealed clearly from the beginning. That kind of familial detail is the juicy context that helps orient readers within a life story. Instead, I was nearly 87% through the book before fully grasping that relationship, & realizing it reframed several moments in the narrative.
Because of that interest, I actually kept Ancestry open while reading. I found myself repeatedly pausing to dig deeper into the people mentioned throughout the book—family members, friends, & even some of Reed’s acquaintances. In many ways, that added another layer to the experience, allowing me to situate the individuals in Reed’s orbit within broader family & historical contexts.
Interestingly, Teju’s presence in the story is not just genealogical but also central to the creation of the book itself. While in Copenhagen giving a presentation about Reed & her research, Ethel Whitmire happened to discover that Teju was in the audience by pure happenstance. That unexpected moment proved invaluable. Through her, Whitmire gained access to Reed’s personal letters—particularly his correspondence with Laura (his wonderful maternal grandmother)—which provides some of the most intimate glimpses into his thoughts, ambitions, & emotional life. Those letters give The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram much of its authenticity & emotional depth, allowing Whitmire to reconstruct Reed not just as a historical subject but as a fully realized person with plenty of wit & charm.
The archival side of me hopes that these letters will ultimately be preserved in a formal collection & digitized for wider access. Some of Reed’s letters to Dorothy Norman have already been digitized & are available through Yale because of Norman’s association. Here's the link if you're interested in seeing the aforementioned correspondence between the pair: https://collections.library.yale.edu/... Anywho, expanding that kind of access to the rest of Reed's correspondence would be invaluable—not only for scholars but for anyone interested in the deeply personal dimensions of history that only letters can reveal.
Whitmire’s book tells the story of a Black queer scholar whose life traversed extraordinary geographic & intellectual landscapes. Peggram rose from humble beginnings to become a double Harvard graduate (Bachelor of Arts in Roman Languages & Literatures, 1935; Master’s in Comparative Literature, 1936), a multilingual academic, & a man driven by a deep desire to experience the world beyond the United States. In 1938, supported by a Rosenwald Foundation fellowship & pursuing doctoral work through Harvard, Reed left for Paris filled with promise & ambition.
What followed, however, was not the scholarly adventure he anticipated. Instead, World War II altered the trajectory of his life. Reed fell in love with a Danish man & remained in Europe as war intensified—a decision that ultimately led to his imprisonment in Nazi concentration camps. By the time he returned to the United States in 1945, he was deeply traumatized. The remainder of his life was marked by psychological struggles, including time in a mental institution where he underwent electric shock therapy. The war—& what he endured during it—clearly fractured something that never fully healed.
The book’s title suggests a heroic or triumphant narrative, but that framing didn’t entirely work for me. Calling Reed’s life “remarkable” feels complicated. While his academic achievements & global outlook were extraordinary—especially for a Black man of his era—much of his life story is marked by loss, trauma, & unrealized potential.
At times I found myself questioning the narrative framing. There’s nothing noble about remaining in a dangerous situation out of love when it ultimately results in life-altering trauma. It’s difficult not to wonder whether leaving Europe earlier might have spared him some of the suffering that defined his later years.
It also raises an uncomfortable question about how we narrate sacrifice & devotion. If Reed had been a woman who remained in Europe out of love only to be captured & tortured, would the story be framed with the same sense of tragic romanticism? Or would readers more readily question the decision itself? The reverence surrounding his choice sometimes felt less like clear-eyed historical analysis & more like a reluctance to interrogate the consequences of that decision.
Still, the book is undeniably important. Whitmire’s work illuminates the experience of a Black scholar navigating overwhelmingly white academic institutions in the early twentieth century. Reed’s story highlights the stark contrast between his trajectory & the relative success & stability enjoyed by many of his white contemporaries. Structural barriers, racism, & the isolation of elite academic spaces all hover in the background of his life story.
Another uncomfortable aspect of the narrative is Reed’s long-term financial dependence on his family. Throughout his pursuit of an intellectual & literary life—and later, after returning from Europe unable to fully care for himself—he relied heavily on the support of his mother & grandmother. That dynamic raises complicated questions about aspiration, sacrifice, & the cost of pursuing dreams that the world may not fully allow someone to realize.
Perhaps the most thought-provoking thread in the book is the tension between Reed’s scholarly ambitions & his relationship to his own Black identity. His pursuit of elite education & intellectual recognition often placed him in spaces where whiteness was the standard. At times, the narrative suggests that aligning with those spaces required Reed to distance himself from—or even resent—parts of his Blackness. It leaves the reader grappling with a painful paradox: the very path meant to elevate him also pulled him toward cultural & social alienation.
Moreover, Whitmire carefully traces what became of many of the people who passed through Reed’s life, offering updates & context that help the reader understand the broader network surrounding him. Yet oddly, some figures—such as Arnie’s uncle (Søren Matthesen)—are left without any real follow-up. Given the level of detail elsewhere, that omission stands out & leaves a small but noticeable gap in an otherwise meticulously researched story.
From a storytelling standpoint, part of me also couldn’t help imagining a different narrative possibility—perhaps even a work of historical fiction built from the fragments Whitmire uncovered. A compelling title might center on imagined letters exchanged between Reed & Arne after they returned to their respective home countries. But it also raises a lingering question: why didn’t Reed write Arne—or vice versa? To have been so deeply in love, that seems like the very least they could have done. Or perhaps they made the painful decision not to contact one another at all, understanding that any attempt at correspondence might have posed risks during such a volatile historical moment. That unanswered question lingers long after finishing the book.
As a librarian, stories like Reed’s also highlight something else that often goes overlooked: the importance of how lives are recorded & remembered. I currently serve as the Campus Librarian in Henry County for Southern Crescent Technical College, & at the close of this month I’ll be hosting a two-part program series titled Write Before You Go. The program focuses on the importance of writing one’s own obituary & documenting personal narratives before death.
Reading Reed’s story made that mission feel even more urgent. The exclusion of Cyril in Olgy’s obituary—despite decades of companionship—is heartbreaking. At the very least he could have been listed as a "special" friend. That kind of erasure happens far too often, especially with queer histories. Which is precisely my point: writing your obituary before you expire allows you to control how your life story will be delivered after death. It is one small but powerful way of reclaiming authorship over your own narrative.
In the end, Whitmire’s book may not present a traditionally “remarkable” life story in the celebratory sense. Instead, it offers something far more complex—a portrait of ambition, love, identity, & trauma shaped by race, sexuality, war, & academia. Reed Peggram’s life forces readers to confront the tangled web that forms when personal dreams collide with historical forces far beyond one person’s control.
This is not an easy story, nor a truly triumphant one. But it is a necessary one.
*I received an advance review copy for free & I am leaving this review voluntarily.*
#ThankGodForARCs
As someone who is deeply interested in genealogy, I have to admit that it bugged me to no end that this connection wasn’t revealed clearly from the beginning. That kind of familial detail is the juicy context that helps orient readers within a life story. Instead, I was nearly 87% through the book before fully grasping that relationship, & realizing it reframed several moments in the narrative.
Because of that interest, I actually kept Ancestry open while reading. I found myself repeatedly pausing to dig deeper into the people mentioned throughout the book—family members, friends, & even some of Reed’s acquaintances. In many ways, that added another layer to the experience, allowing me to situate the individuals in Reed’s orbit within broader family & historical contexts.
Interestingly, Teju’s presence in the story is not just genealogical but also central to the creation of the book itself. While in Copenhagen giving a presentation about Reed & her research, Ethel Whitmire happened to discover that Teju was in the audience by pure happenstance. That unexpected moment proved invaluable. Through her, Whitmire gained access to Reed’s personal letters—particularly his correspondence with Laura (his wonderful maternal grandmother)—which provides some of the most intimate glimpses into his thoughts, ambitions, & emotional life. Those letters give The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram much of its authenticity & emotional depth, allowing Whitmire to reconstruct Reed not just as a historical subject but as a fully realized person with plenty of wit & charm.
The archival side of me hopes that these letters will ultimately be preserved in a formal collection & digitized for wider access. Some of Reed’s letters to Dorothy Norman have already been digitized & are available through Yale because of Norman’s association. Here's the link if you're interested in seeing the aforementioned correspondence between the pair: https://collections.library.yale.edu/... Anywho, expanding that kind of access to the rest of Reed's correspondence would be invaluable—not only for scholars but for anyone interested in the deeply personal dimensions of history that only letters can reveal.
Whitmire’s book tells the story of a Black queer scholar whose life traversed extraordinary geographic & intellectual landscapes. Peggram rose from humble beginnings to become a double Harvard graduate (Bachelor of Arts in Roman Languages & Literatures, 1935; Master’s in Comparative Literature, 1936), a multilingual academic, & a man driven by a deep desire to experience the world beyond the United States. In 1938, supported by a Rosenwald Foundation fellowship & pursuing doctoral work through Harvard, Reed left for Paris filled with promise & ambition.
What followed, however, was not the scholarly adventure he anticipated. Instead, World War II altered the trajectory of his life. Reed fell in love with a Danish man & remained in Europe as war intensified—a decision that ultimately led to his imprisonment in Nazi concentration camps. By the time he returned to the United States in 1945, he was deeply traumatized. The remainder of his life was marked by psychological struggles, including time in a mental institution where he underwent electric shock therapy. The war—& what he endured during it—clearly fractured something that never fully healed.
The book’s title suggests a heroic or triumphant narrative, but that framing didn’t entirely work for me. Calling Reed’s life “remarkable” feels complicated. While his academic achievements & global outlook were extraordinary—especially for a Black man of his era—much of his life story is marked by loss, trauma, & unrealized potential.
At times I found myself questioning the narrative framing. There’s nothing noble about remaining in a dangerous situation out of love when it ultimately results in life-altering trauma. It’s difficult not to wonder whether leaving Europe earlier might have spared him some of the suffering that defined his later years.
It also raises an uncomfortable question about how we narrate sacrifice & devotion. If Reed had been a woman who remained in Europe out of love only to be captured & tortured, would the story be framed with the same sense of tragic romanticism? Or would readers more readily question the decision itself? The reverence surrounding his choice sometimes felt less like clear-eyed historical analysis & more like a reluctance to interrogate the consequences of that decision.
Still, the book is undeniably important. Whitmire’s work illuminates the experience of a Black scholar navigating overwhelmingly white academic institutions in the early twentieth century. Reed’s story highlights the stark contrast between his trajectory & the relative success & stability enjoyed by many of his white contemporaries. Structural barriers, racism, & the isolation of elite academic spaces all hover in the background of his life story.
Another uncomfortable aspect of the narrative is Reed’s long-term financial dependence on his family. Throughout his pursuit of an intellectual & literary life—and later, after returning from Europe unable to fully care for himself—he relied heavily on the support of his mother & grandmother. That dynamic raises complicated questions about aspiration, sacrifice, & the cost of pursuing dreams that the world may not fully allow someone to realize.
Perhaps the most thought-provoking thread in the book is the tension between Reed’s scholarly ambitions & his relationship to his own Black identity. His pursuit of elite education & intellectual recognition often placed him in spaces where whiteness was the standard. At times, the narrative suggests that aligning with those spaces required Reed to distance himself from—or even resent—parts of his Blackness. It leaves the reader grappling with a painful paradox: the very path meant to elevate him also pulled him toward cultural & social alienation.
Moreover, Whitmire carefully traces what became of many of the people who passed through Reed’s life, offering updates & context that help the reader understand the broader network surrounding him. Yet oddly, some figures—such as Arnie’s uncle (Søren Matthesen)—are left without any real follow-up. Given the level of detail elsewhere, that omission stands out & leaves a small but noticeable gap in an otherwise meticulously researched story.
From a storytelling standpoint, part of me also couldn’t help imagining a different narrative possibility—perhaps even a work of historical fiction built from the fragments Whitmire uncovered. A compelling title might center on imagined letters exchanged between Reed & Arne after they returned to their respective home countries. But it also raises a lingering question: why didn’t Reed write Arne—or vice versa? To have been so deeply in love, that seems like the very least they could have done. Or perhaps they made the painful decision not to contact one another at all, understanding that any attempt at correspondence might have posed risks during such a volatile historical moment. That unanswered question lingers long after finishing the book.
As a librarian, stories like Reed’s also highlight something else that often goes overlooked: the importance of how lives are recorded & remembered. I currently serve as the Campus Librarian in Henry County for Southern Crescent Technical College, & at the close of this month I’ll be hosting a two-part program series titled Write Before You Go. The program focuses on the importance of writing one’s own obituary & documenting personal narratives before death.
Reading Reed’s story made that mission feel even more urgent. The exclusion of Cyril in Olgy’s obituary—despite decades of companionship—is heartbreaking. At the very least he could have been listed as a "special" friend. That kind of erasure happens far too often, especially with queer histories. Which is precisely my point: writing your obituary before you expire allows you to control how your life story will be delivered after death. It is one small but powerful way of reclaiming authorship over your own narrative.
In the end, Whitmire’s book may not present a traditionally “remarkable” life story in the celebratory sense. Instead, it offers something far more complex—a portrait of ambition, love, identity, & trauma shaped by race, sexuality, war, & academia. Reed Peggram’s life forces readers to confront the tangled web that forms when personal dreams collide with historical forces far beyond one person’s control.
This is not an easy story, nor a truly triumphant one. But it is a necessary one.
*I received an advance review copy for free & I am leaving this review voluntarily.*
#ThankGodForARCs
February 21, 2026
The author did a Herculean job researching for this book about the life of Reed Peggram, a queer Black writer who won a scholarship to study in Paris in 1938, and though Europe was on the verge of war, he decided to take the chance. In telling the story, the author details what life was like for the few African-American Harvard students. She also details the tradition of African-American writers, artists, and performers traveling to Europe.
Much of the book would not have been able to be written if the author hadn’t chanced upon one of Peggram’s relatives at a conference . Not only was she able to hear family history, but she was given access to all of Peggram’s surviving letters.
Peggram’s year in Paris turned into seven years running from WWII in what was a harrowing, if sad adventure. I learned a lot from this book.
Much of the book would not have been able to be written if the author hadn’t chanced upon one of Peggram’s relatives at a conference . Not only was she able to hear family history, but she was given access to all of Peggram’s surviving letters.
Peggram’s year in Paris turned into seven years running from WWII in what was a harrowing, if sad adventure. I learned a lot from this book.
February 23, 2026
This book truly amazed me. It is a biography that feels like a captivating story, powerful, emotional, and so relatable that you sometimes forget it’s about a real person. Reed Peggram's ife was a rollercoaster of love and hardship; his love outweighed the risk and his choice and its consequences are something I'll remember for a long time. What makes this book really impactful is how the author, Whitmire, includes Reed's letters throughout the story. You don't just learn facts about Reed, you truly connect with him. You sense his humor, ambition, stubbornness, and vulnerability. It's an eye-opening examination of race, sexuality, conflict, and education, bringing to light an incredible life that deserves to be remembered.
February 15, 2026
This book contains so many facets: biography, travelog, Black history, queer history, love story. Reed's life story, mostly documented from 200 letters sent to family, traces his journey as a Harvard graduate, writer, traveler, man about town. Spending much of his youth in Europe, Reed struggles with his place in the world and where his future--will take him. As WW2 looms, Reed's actions and inactions show a man ruled by his head and heart.
Want to read
February 16, 2026Another book that looks really interesting yet has rec'd zero promotion from GR. (I know GR can't promote every book that's released, but some books are promoted at every single opportunity, while others are never mentioned.) If GR could periodically have lists such as "Under the Radar Reads" or "GReaders Love These Books," etc -- I'm trying to be constructive instead of just whining -- that would be great.
Anyway, I'll do my part by reading and reviewing this book. I hope it's good!
Anyway, I'll do my part by reading and reviewing this book. I hope it's good!
February 25, 2026
An excellent nonfictional account of the life of Reed Peggram, a gay African American graduate of Harvard. Peggram’s story, revealed through a collection of over 200 letters, serves as a recovery of a "lost" intellectual voice caught between the forces of racism and homophobia.
March 1, 2026
3.5 stars. Will forever be thinking of Reed, Arne, and their stories.
February 5, 2026
The Remarkable Life of Reed Pegram was my first time reading anything by this author, and I was immediately impressed by the depth and charm of the storytelling. The book is engaging, thought-provoking, and full of emotional nuance. I found myself completely absorbed in Reed’s journey and the world built around him. The narrative was both intriguing and beautifully paced, with moments of quiet reflection balanced by powerful revelations. It’s the kind of book that lingers in your mind and makes you think long after you’ve turned the last page. I’m so glad I discovered this author, and I’ll definitely be reading more of their work. Highly recommended for anyone who loves character driven fiction with emotional depth and a compelling voice. Thanks to #netgalley for the ARC! #theremarkablelifeofreedpeggram
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews