Mary ‘Pat’ Thompson needed the help of two carers to move but fell while in the care of just one.

The approach of the presidential election has people in both parties in doomscrolling mode. Some Republicans are creating elaborate conspiracy theories about voter fraud in swing states. Some Democrats are creating elaborate conspiracy theories about Nate Silver’s projections. Of course, this kind of internet-based obsession isn’t healthy. Although perhaps the best way to avoid a sense of impending dread about the coming presidential election is to actually participate in some form of civic engagement in the four days before November 5, those who are loath to leave their couches and interact with their fellow human beings have a well-adjusted alternative to volunteering: reading a book. As a journalist who has thought, talked, and written about electoral politics every day for as long as I can remember, I can suggest five books that might lend readers a new perspective on politics—without all the unpleasant mental-health side effects of spending hours online.

The Earl of Louisiana, by A. J. Liebling

Liebling’s chronicle of the 1959 gubernatorial campaign of Earl Long, Huey Long’s brother, who became the dominant figure in state politics in the decades after his brother’s assassination, is one of the great classics of literary journalism. Set in the byzantine world of Louisiana politics in the mid-20th century, the book is a remarkable character study of the younger Long, who served three stints as governor of the Bayou State (and was briefly institutionalized by his wife during his last term, as chronicled by Liebling). Although it’s arguably not even the best book about one of the Longs—T. Harry Williams’s biography of Huey is a masterpiece—it captures a precise moment of transition as American politics adjusted to both the rise of television and the beginnings of the civil-rights movement. Its glimpse into those changes also serves as a last hurrah for a certain type of traditional politics that seems remote in our very online age.

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72, by Hunter S. Thompson

Thompson’s tale of the 1972 presidential campaign has offered a rousing introduction to American campaigns for generations of teenage political junkies. His gonzo journalism is prone to treating the line between fact and fiction as advisory at best, but it also gets into the actual art of politics in a way that few others have managed. His depiction of George McGovern’s campaign’s careful management of the floor of the Democratic National Convention is genuinely instructive for professionals, while still accessible to those with only a casual interest in the field. In a year in which “vibes” have earned a new primacy in campaign coverage, reading Thompson is even more worthwhile, because he did a better job than anyone of covering the vibes of his moment.

[Read: Six political memoirs worth reading]

SDP: The Birth, Life and Death of the Social Democratic Party, by Ivor Crewe and Anthony King

Americans frequently complain about their two-party system and wonder why no third party has yet emerged that could somehow appeal to a broad constituency. But sustaining such mass popularity is even harder than it sounds, as shown by this history of the Social Democratic Party in the United Kingdom. Perhaps the closest thing to a full-fledged third party that has emerged in the Anglosphere in the past century, the SDP was formed in 1981 as a breakaway from the Labour Party, which seemed irretrievably in control of fringe leftists and Trotskyites; meanwhile, all the Conservative Party had to offer was Margaret Thatcher. The SDP, in an alliance with the Liberal Party (a longtime moderate party of moderate means and membership), appeared positioned to shatter the mold of British politics. In the early 1980s, it polled first among British voters. But its momentum fizzled, as Crewe and King chronicle, due to both internal conflicts and external events such as the Falklands War. The party, which now exists as the Liberal Democrats, has had varying fortunes in British politics since, but it has never reached the heights that once felt attainable in the early ’80s. Crewe and King explain why, while also outlining just how close the SDP came.

This Will Not Pass: Trump, Biden, and the Battle for America’s Future, by Jonathan Martin and Alex Burns

If you feel the need to reflect on contemporary American politics right now, Martin and Burns’s book on the tumultuous end of the Trump administration and start of the Biden presidency provides a smart field guide for understanding how exactly Donald Trump went from leaving Washington in disgrace after January 6 to potentially winning reelection in 2024. It chronicles the series of compromises and calculations within the Republican Party that first enabled and then fueled Trump’s political comeback, and also goes inside the Democratic Party, dissecting Kamala Harris’s rise as Joe Biden’s vice-presidential nominee as well as the missteps that hampered her role in the early days after Biden took office. Days from the presidential election, this offers the best look back at how our country got here.

[Read: What’s the one book that explains American politics today?]

On Politics, by H. L. Mencken

Journalism rarely lasts. After all, many stories that are huge one day are forgotten the next. Seldom do reporters’ or columnists’ legacies live on beyond their retirement, let alone their death. One of the few exceptions to this is Mencken, and deservedly so. Mencken was not just a talented memoirist and scholar of American English but also one of the eminent political writers of his time. Admittedly, many of his judgments did not hold up: Mencken had many of the racial prejudices of his time, and his loathing for Franklin D. Roosevelt has not exactly been vindicated by history. However, this collection of articles covers the vulgar and hypocritical parade of politics during the Roaring ’20s, when Prohibition was the nominal law of the land. The 1924 election of Calvin Coolidge (of whom Mencken wrote, “It would be difficult to imagine a more obscure and unimportant man”) may be justly forgotten today. But it produced absurdities, such as a Democratic National Convention that required 103 ballots to deliver a nominee who lost to Coolidge in a landslide, that were ripe for Mencken’s cynical skewering. Today, his writing serves as a model of satire worth revisiting.