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Two new books by bright young writers delve into the impact of America's criminal justice system on society at large. In Conned: How Millions Went to Prison, Lost the Vote, and Helped Send George W. Bush to the White House, Sacramento-based investigative journalist Sasha Abramsky documents the way in which the widespread practice of stripping convicted felons of the right to vote has dramatically contracted the country's pool of eligible voters. This, he convincingly argues, has warped the outcome of local, state, and the past two presidential elections in favor of conservatives, whose richer, whiter constituency is, if not less crime-prone, less likely to be vigorously prosecuted than its poorer, darker counterpart.

Forced Passages: Imprisoned Radical Intellectuals and the U.S. Prison Regime, by UC Riverside ethnic studies professor Dylan Rodr??guez, examines the collective output of a group of writers who, in their refusal to disappear, plumb the limits of the coercive power of the state. Forced Passages is complemented by two recent anthologies complied by Joy James, a professor of Africana studies at Brown University.

Imprisoned Intellectuals: America's Political Prisoners Write on Life, Liberation, and Rebellion and The New Abolitionists: (Neo)Slave Narratives and Contemporary Prison Writings present an impressively diverse body of thought by authors ranging from anarcha-feminist Emma Goldman to American Indian Movement veteran Leonard Peltier and former Black Panther Party member Mumia Abu-Jamal, as well as a multitude of lesser-known but equally impressive figures.

There is a massive gulf between Conned and the work of Rodr??guez and James. Abramsky seeks to correct the discriminatory excesses of the American political system so it can function in accord with its stated ideals. Rodr??guez, in conjunction with the captive voices he and James present, considers the United States to be fundamentally white supremacist and plutocratic. The imprisoned intellectuals and their outside colleagues demand revolution, not reform.

Felon disenfranchisement first drew national attention in the wake of the 2000 presidential election. In the decisive state of Florida, which Bush won by a hair, more than half a million people who had once wrangled with the criminal justice system had been denied the vote. A private company with ties to the Republican Party had constructed a voter "purge list" to make sure this was so. Haphazardly compiled and designed so as not to include dependably Republican Cuban Americans, this list and other shenanigans exposed Florida's corrupt political elite as the banana Republicans they are. Civil rights organizations forced concessions regarding the use of the purge list itself in future elections, but the half million "citizen-ghosts" remain a tangible presence.

Seven states currently permanently disenfranchise ex-felons, while most others have less-severe disenfranchisement statutes. (Abramsky deems California among the better ones; prisoners and parolees aren't allowed to vote, but people on probation and those who have completed their sentences can.) Six other states retreated from permanent disenfranchisement since the 2000 election ...