Almost everyone knows what it’s like to face insurmountable odds—to feel ineffective, unable to see a way out, doubtful that the struggle to prevail is even worth the fight. Sometimes a challenge is genuinely life-and-death, or involves dire consequences; other times, the obstacles in your path may be lower stakes, but still feel frustratingly immovable. As diverse as these experiences can be, they tend to share a common quality: They can become powerful stories.

As a result, literature is full of reminders that long odds can sometimes be surmounted—that David can defeat Goliath, that perseverance can pay off, and that action can lead to change. The seven books below follow people who faced extraordinary predicaments and, instead of caving in, found ways to push back. Some protagonists overcome their obstacles; others confront them on their own terms or weaken the systems they’re up against. Many of their stories are infuriating, but the unlikely achievements within are all elementally hopeful, because they might galvanize readers to fight another day.

All In: An Autobiography, by Billie Jean King with Johnette Howard and Maryanne Vollers

When King came up in tennis in the 1960s, female players were an afterthought at best. The money they received for winning tournaments was a fraction of what men received, and the sexism was constant: King was once told she’d be No. 1 someday because she was ugly. In her autobiography, King frankly recounts the opposition she faced on and off the court, and also recognizes the challenges faced by other barrier-breaking players such as Althea Gibson, Arthur Ashe, and Renée Richards. “There was this gap between what I thought I was capable of and the world as it was,” she writes. “I saw that gulf clearly. I was less sure how to breach it.” King found a way across: In addition to winning 39 Grand Slam titles, she helped create a women-only invitational that proved female players could sell tickets. In 1973, she also defeated Bobby Riggs in the Battle of the Sexes, a watershed cultural moment watched by 90 million people.  All In reads like one of King’s tennis matches: An intense volley of obstacles fly at her, and she returns them all with power and headlong determination.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, by Shannon Chakraborty

In many works of fiction, pirates—even the most plundering, pillaging types—are portrayed sympathetically, as people who don’t fit into society and turn to a life on the high seas in order to be their authentic selves. The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi is one of those stories. The novel takes place in a fantastical version of the medieval Islamic world, specifically on the Indian Ocean, where the titular captain, Amina, once helmed her own ship and crew. Ten years after leaving the pirate life, she’s older, and a mother; she has the aches and pains to prove it. Unsurprisingly, given how these stories usually go, circumstances draw her back to her ship and the sea: She needs to rescue the daughter of a dead crewmate, and her journey gets her embroiled with magical forces that are literally leviathan in nature. Her specific challenges are, obviously, not of our world, but her desire to control her own life, and her refusal to be whipped around by powerful, indifferent forces, is deeply relatable. And although the themes of the story are serious, the tone is relatively light—hope and humor lash its pages, making for a swashbuckling read.

[Read: How to succeed at failure]

The Radium Girls, by Kate Moore

In the late 1910s, corporations used radium, a radioactive material found in uranium ore, to make the numbers and dials on watches glow in the dark. They hired young women to paint the substance on, and employees were encouraged to twirl the brushes between their lips to get them to a fine point. The radium accumulated in their bones, killing many of them—they glowed at night as it destroyed their bodies from the inside. Ultimately, groups of these women took two separate companies—the United States Radium Corporation and the Radium Dial Company—to court, and after years of efforts, their former employers were finally held accountable. Although financial compensation was important to cover medical bills and support their families, the women mainly wanted the truth exposed; at least 50 of them died before the trials concluded. Moore demonstrates that USRC and Radium Dial knowingly sentenced the painters to death for the sake of profit, denying that there was any risk to their health even when their own medical examinations proved otherwise. More important, she puts these workers front and center, as women who had full lives before, and after, they picked up a paintbrush.

Whalefall, by Daniel Kraus

On the surface, Whalefall spins a wild premise into a gripping tale: A young diver, Jay, is fighting to escape a sperm whale that inadvertently swallows him while hunting a giant squid. As you get deeper into the novel, however, the plot becomes more complex. Yes, it’s a thrilling story of survival—Jay’s body is shattered, beaten and ruptured in various places, and the oxygen in his tank is rapidly dwindling. But it’s also about his grief for his estranged father: Kraus flits between Jay’s Herculean efforts to stay alive inside the whale’s stomach and memories of his dad, who—ravaged by terminal cancer—ultimately chose to die in these same waters. Whalefall interweaves past and present via short, immediate prose as “Jay lived and died and lived again in the deep.”

[Read: How kids learn resilience]

Go Down Together: The True, Untold Story of Bonnie and Clyde, by Jeff Guinn

In the early 20th century, the media and Hollywood turned Bonnie and Clyde into infamous bank robbers, inflating their often-fumbling exploits to super-gangster status. As Guinn explains in Go Down Together—a book that aims to move past the myth and paint a more accurate picture of the two—many Americans eagerly bought into the image the press created. Reality didn’t matter: The story of the couple became a touchstone for people’s frustrations. “In 1933 bankers and law enforcement officials, widely perceived to have no sympathy for decent people impoverished through no fault of their own, were considered the enemy by many Americans,” Guinn writes. “For them, Clyde and Bonnie’s criminal acts offered a vicarious sense of revenge.” In reality, Clyde—who had been serially raped by another inmate in prison—“was more interested in getting even than in getting ahead,” and Bonnie wanted a life filled with fame and adventures, and “was willing to risk arrest to have them.” What their legend truly shows is just how badly the American public wanted to crown a hero who stood up to the establishment on its behalf—an impulse that persists, dangerously, to this day.

The Half Life of Valery K, by Natasha Pulley

From its first pages, The Half Life of Valery K gets to the core of what humans facing a seemingly hopeless situation must do to carry on. “The way to not sink into self-pity and despair—the way not to die—was to look forward to things,” Valery thinks. “Anything; the tinier the better, because then you were more likely to get it.” Incarcerated in a Siberian prison, he must stave off “the terrible docility that came before you gave up.” Valery is a Soviet biochemist specializing in radiation who gets transferred to City 40, ostensibly to study the effect of a nuclear accident the government has spun as a planned “experiment” on an ecosystem. Pulley’s novel is inspired by real events: In September 1957, an explosion in the Soviet Union spread radioactive material, causing mass evacuations and contamination. The book itself has sharp edges. Pulley’s characters are not only physically wounded; they are forever scarred by their trauma. But Valery, despite his lack of power in a despotic system, is able to help others, and finds a way to not just survive his pain but also live with its lasting effects.

[Read: Schopenhauer’s advice on how to achieve great things]

A Passionate Mind in Relentless Pursuit, by Noliwe Rooks

Rooks’s history of the educator, philanthropist, and civil-rights leader Mary McLeod Bethune is more of a meditation on the effect she had on those in the Black community, including the author, than a formal biography. “I think Bethune—her image, her statues, her name—may be a kind of talisman, or maybe a light, guiding, promising, showing a path,” Rooks writes early on. Over about 200 pages, Rooks unpacks Bethune’s legacy in fighting racism, exploring her efforts to found a school and secure investors to buy land near the ocean and create Bethune Beach, the only beach in Florida’s Volusia County where Black Americans could congregate without restrictions during Jim Crow. In 2022, a statue of Bethune replaced that of a Confederate general in the U.S. Capitol’s National Statuary Hall, where she represents the state of Florida. As Rooks puts it, the activist “taught me that there is strength in numbers, always a reason to hope, and that if someone disrespects you and yours, it is in your best interest to find a way to use the metaphorical flag that professes your citizenship, rights, and humanity as a weapon, and ‘get it done.’”

As he sat in prison in 1930, at the opening of a fateful decade, the Italian anti-fascist Antonio Gramsci wrote: “The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.”

The world is now in a Gramscian interregnum. The old order—Pax Americana—is breaking down. Electorates across the West are in revolt as the industrial era’s social contract has given way to the socioeconomic insecurity of the digital age. Waves of immigration have sparked an angry ethno-nationalism that advantages ideological extremes. Power in the international system is shifting from West to East and North to South, undermining a global order that rested on the West’s material and ideological primacy. Russia and China are pushing back against a liberal order that they see as a mask for U.S. hegemony. Many in the global South have grown impatient with an international system they see as exploitative, inequitable, and unjust.

Pax Americana is past its expiration date, but the United States won’t let go. Instead of beginning the hard work of figuring out what comes next, the Biden administration spent its four years defending the “liberal rules-based order” that emerged after World War II and seeking to turn back any and all challenges to it. The results are telling: disaffection at home and disorder abroad. The old is dying, the new cannot be born, and a great variety of morbid symptoms has appeared.

[Read: Foreign leaders face the Trump test]

In this context, Donald Trump could be a necessary agent of change. His “America First” brand of statecraft—transactional, neo-isolationist, unilateralist, and protectionist—breaks decisively from the liberal internationalist mold that has shaped the grand strategy of successive administrations since World War II. But though that mold may well need to be shattered, it will also need to be replaced. And Trump is more demolition man than architect. Instead of helping build a new and better international order, he may well bring down the old one and simply leave the United States and the rest of the world standing in the rubble.

Trump will nevertheless be the president of the world’s most powerful country for the next four years. Americans will have to make the best of his efforts to revamp U.S. foreign policy. That means welcoming Trump’s recognition that the country needs a new grand strategy—then pushing him to pursue change that is radical but responsible, and to reform the world that America made rather than merely destroying it.

Pax Americana was born during the 1940s. World War II and the onset of the Cold War whetted the country’s appetite for an expansive internationalism. Democrats and Republicans both rallied behind a grand strategy that secured geopolitical stability and prosperity by projecting U.S. power globally and establishing an open, multilateral order among like-minded democracies.

Today, that internationalist consensus has shattered. Deindustrialization and the hollowing out of the middle class, decades of strategic overreach and hyperglobalization, and an influx of immigrants that has contributed to rapid shifts in the country’s demographic makeup have all sapped political support for liberal internationalism. Enter Trump and his politics of grievance. “The forgotten men and women of our country will be forgotten no longer,” he pledged in his inaugural address in 2017. “From this moment on, it’s going to be America First. Every decision on trade, on taxes, on immigration, on foreign affairs, will be made to benefit American workers and American families.”

Trump in his first term failed to get “forgotten” Americans back up on their feet. This is one of the reasons he lost his bid for reelection to Joe Biden. Biden then oversaw a “restoration” presidency, reinstating liberal internationalism and standing firmly behind Pax Americana. But the foreign policy he pursued was better matched to the world that was. Biden consolidated traditional American alliances in Europe and Asia and took the lead in helping Ukraine defend itself against Russian aggression. But he leaves office amid deepening global disorder, and without having even tried to negotiate an end to a war that Ukraine cannot win. Biden pledged to pursue a “foreign policy for the middle class,” but during his presidency, the electorate remained polarized, and blue-collar voters further gravitated toward Trump.

Now Trump has a chance to try again. His “America First” agenda tends to make the foreign-policy establishment recoil, but it offers distinct advantages. Trump’s transactional and pragmatic engagement with adversaries may do more to tame geopolitical rivalry than Biden’s view of a globe defined by a clash between democracy and autocracy. Trump’s readiness to negotiate with Russia, China, and Iran is exactly what’s needed.

Preparing a diplomatic push to end Russia’s war against Ukraine is pragmatism, not capitulation; the death and destruction need to stop. Trump was smart to invite Xi Jinping to his inauguration; if he can eventually sit down with Xi, cut a trade deal, and ease rising geopolitical tensions, more power to him. Elon Musk, one of Trump’s confidants, has already met with Iran’s UN ambassador; now that Israel has weakened Tehran and pummeled its proxies in the Middle East, a diplomatic breakthrough may be achievable. Should Trump succeed in lowering the temperature with adversaries, he will make the world a safer place while scaling back the nation’s onerous commitments abroad, thereby easing the chronic strategic overreach that has led Americans to turn inward.

Trump also understands that globalization has left many workers behind and that open trade has benefited far too few Americans; he is appropriately looking to level the commercial playing field. He is heading in the right direction by seeking a solution to illegal immigration, responding to the clamor of an electorate that knows full well that the country lacks a functioning immigration system. And Trump will be doing the nation a service if he can downsize the federal government, make it more efficient, and help reduce the national debt.

[Read: The political logic of Trump’s international threats]

More pragmatism and less ideology, more restraint and fewer wars, more focus on solving problems at home and less on defending democracy abroad, more government efficiency and less waste—these strategic shifts should serve the United States well is it seeks to manage a world of growing disarray, diffusing power, and stark political diversity. Trump’s statecraft is in these respects not the impulse of a misguided and capricious demagogue but an appropriate response to a changing world and a changing America.

Yet even if Trump’s “America First” foreign policy has considerable promise, it is also fraught with risk. His transactional approach to diplomacy could morph into a stiff-necked unilateralism that undermines collective efforts where they are needed. His effort to limit U.S. entanglements abroad could lead to U.S. underreach, leaving dangerous vacuums of power. His reluctance to promote democracy overseas could shade into disregard for democratic norms at home, potentially resulting in irreversible damage to the nation’s representative institutions. And in his determination to shake up the political establishment, Trump could break the U.S. government rather than reform it. A broken federal government will be in no shape to fix a broken America or a broken world.

Trump’s strategy could easily descend into excess and incoherence. The work ahead will be to encourage Trump’s better instincts, counter his more malign ones, and channel both into something resembling a coherent and constructive grand strategy.

For the past four years, the Biden administration has tightened relations with allies but neglected diplomacy where it was most needed, with Russia and China. Trump’s readiness to engage adversaries could be a welcome shift. But now the hazard will lie on the other side—that Trump will embrace a self-defeating unilateralism and shun alliances and other collective efforts; “America First” would then become “America Alone.”

During his first term, for instance, Trump pulled out of the Paris climate agreement, the World Health Organization, and other multilateral arrangements. He still expresses an aversion to “international unions that tie us up and bring America down.” He has a history of demeaning allies and viewing alliances as encumbrances; he just might act on his threat to withdraw from NATO. And Trump’s unilateralist threats to use economic coercion to annex Canada and military coercion to take control of the Panama Canal and Greenland are simply off the wall.

Unilateralism won’t work in today’s world; no nation can opt out of a globe that has grown irreversibly interdependent. Countering aggression, managing international commerce, arresting global warming, preventing nuclear proliferation, regulating the development and deployment of AI—these are only a few of the shared challenges that necessitate international teamwork. If the United States walks away from collective effort, others will do the same. And allies don’t diminish U.S. power; they augment it. Having fellow democracies by Washington’s side will only increase Trump’s leverage as he negotiates with Russia, China, and other adversaries. In contrast, if Trump gives allies cause to question America’s commitment to collective defense, they will pursue other options, leaving the United States isolated and vulnerable. That’s not putting America first.

Trump’s enthusiasm for tariffs is another worrying plank of his unilateralist agenda. Modest and selective tariffs could do some good, protecting sensitive technological sectors, bringing home a few manufacturing jobs, and pressuring foreign governments to provide U.S. goods with better market access. But Trump has more ambitious plans. He’s eyeing 25 percent tariffs on Canada and Mexico and has hinted that he could impose levies as high as 60 percent on imports from China.

If Trump puts up these tariff walls, he could well spark a trade war that wreaks havoc on international trade and global prosperity. Tariff barriers would also hurt, not help, America’s working families by increasing the cost of consumer goods while failing to turn the United States back into the “manufacturing powerhouse” that Trump has promised. Largely as a consequence of automation, some 80 percent of the U.S. workforce is already employed in the service sector; those workers are not returning to the production line. A trade war with allies and adversaries would also inflame geopolitical tensions, confronting the United States with the prospect of strategic isolation amid growing global disarray.

Trump is right that the United States tends to overreach abroad; “forever wars” in Iraq and Afghanistan are a case in point. But Trump will need to seek a middle ground between doing too much and doing too little.

Ukraine will be an early test. Trump is right to try to end the conflict; a war that drags on indefinitely could eventually turn Ukraine into a failed state. But even though he has made clear his discontent with the costly provision of assistance to Kyiv, Trump cannot simply cut off the flow of U.S. aid, which would only encourage Vladimir Putin to keep up his quest to subjugate Ukraine. Trump also needs to hold out for a good deal, not just any deal that ends the war. Russia will almost certainly retain the 20 percent of Ukraine it now occupies. But Washington must ensure that the other 80 percent is sovereign and secure. To do otherwise would leave Ukraine permanently subject to Moscow’s predation and coercion—and hand a victory not only to Russia but to China, Iran, and North Korea, all of which are backing Russian aggression.

[Robert Kagan: Trump is facing a catastrophic defeat in Ukraine]

The role for the U.S. in the Middle East is similar: Stepping back is good policy, but stepping away would be folly. The United States certainly erred in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Libya, effectively turning all three into failed states. But disengagement, which is what Trump seems to have in mind, goes too far in the other direction. When the regime of Syrian strongman Bashar al-Assad collapsed last month, Trump posted, “Syria is a mess . . . . THE UNITED STATES SHOULD HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. THIS IS NOT OUR FIGHT. LET IT PLAY OUT. DO NOT GET INVOLVED!” Yet the United States can’t really steer clear of Syria, which hosts a sizable contingent of American troops; is home to extremist groups, such as the Islamic State; and borders three U.S. allies—Turkey, Jordan, and Israel. Especially at a time of widespread upheaval in the Middle East, U.S. engagement is needed to guide the region to a stable peace.

Trump appears likely to either overdo or underdo China. He’s a hawk when it comes to trade but could well balk at the risks of a military dustup with Beijing over Taiwan. In the past he has demanded that Taiwan pay for U.S. “protection,” claimed that it had “stolen” America’s semiconductor industry, and equivocated about defending the island. Trump’s larger China policy could ultimately determine which way he goes on Taiwan. A trade war could lead him to ratchet up geopolitical rivalry and double down on defending Taipei, risking an irreparable rupture with China. Conversely, he might sell out Taiwan as part of a grand bargain with Beijing that he could tout as the consummate deal, leaving China unchecked and allies everywhere unsettled. The more responsible path is to undertake cautious but constructive engagement, aiming to rebalance trade, ratchet down geopolitical tension, and carve out a working relationship on issues such as technological competition and global health—all while preserving a stable status quo on Taiwan.

Ideological hubris has often pushed U.S. statecraft off course, and Trump exhibits due caution toward the overzealous promotion of democracy abroad. He has correctly traced American overreach in the Middle East to the “dangerous idea that we could make Western democracies out of countries that had no experience or interest in becoming a Western democracy.” And he is right to reassure foreign nations that “we do not seek to impose our way of life on anyone.”

Yet Trump could well end up pairing this tolerance of political diversity abroad with efforts to compromise liberal democracy at home. Indeed, he has already shown a worrying disdain for democratic norms. He still claims spuriously to have won the 2020 election, threatens to pursue vendettas against political opponents, pledges to punish media outlets and companies that criticize him, and plans to disregard the Constitution by denying birthright citizenship.

Decency is at stake as well as democracy. Trump is a convicted felon, and a good number of his appointees are of dubious character. Tycoons such as Musk, whom he has tapped to help improve government efficiency, will beset the administration with conflicts of interest, as Trump’s globe-spanning family businesses already do. Immigration-policy reform is overdue, but forcibly deporting millions of undocumented migrants would be both indecent and inhumane. So much for the United States leading through the power of its example.

Democracy is in recession in all quarters of the globe, including in the West, where political centrism has been steadily losing ground to illiberal populism. If that trend is to be reversed, the United States needs to get its own house in order and demonstrate to the rest of the world that democratic governments can indeed deliver for their citizens and outperform the autocratic competition. At this historic inflection point, the trajectory of American democracy may well determine the trajectory of democracy around the world.

If Trump contravenes the laws, norms, and practices that anchor republican government, he could do irreparable harm to the cause of democracy not just in the United States but globally. The legislature, the courts, the media, and the American people will bear the responsibility for stopping him.

Trump has a mandate to take on the political establishment and upend its conventional wisdom. New faces and a measure of unpredictability in Washington are not all bad; they can produce fresh ideas and keep adversaries guessing and off-balance.

[Read: What Trump got right about national security]

But many of the outsiders and iconoclasts Trump has nominated for top posts have questionable qualifications, and his pledge to purge the civil service and military in order to feather both with loyalists who will do his bidding goes too far. Trump has mused about dismantling the Department of Education at a time when the nation’s public schools desperately need more federal funding and guidance. And if his first term is any indication, Trump’s erratic management is likely to produce a ballooning national debt and policy incoherence, not a lean and coordinated government.

The status quo certainly deserves shaking up, yet Trump will need a functioning executive branch to make and implement policy. Cabinet officials can be iconoclasts, but they must have the managerial experience needed to run large organizations. Substantive experts and diplomats are not subversive agents of the “deep state”; they are vital to making and executing effective policy and staffing the nation’s outposts abroad. Trump simply cannot afford to bring down the house—and must be stopped from doing so.

The task facing Americans, allies, and even foreign adversaries is to ensure that the promise of Trump’s second term prevails over its peril. America and the world need Trump to be a disrupter and reformer, not merely a destroyer. Americans and foreigners can and should work with Trump the disrupter and reformer. But if he becomes the destroyer, then checks and balances at home and abroad must shut Trump down.