One of my favorite books is about St. Issac Jogues and company. It's called Saints of the American Wilderness, by John O'Brien. I highly recommend it. Here's a description from the back cover:
"French priests enter a war zone where captured Westerners are paraded before their captors, tortured and beheaded. Their desecrated bodies are dumped by the roadside.
Iraq 2004? The Gaza Strip? Western Afghanistan?
No. A place far more dangerous: Canada in the 1600's. On rivers and in forests, Iroquois slaughter Hurons, and Europeans kill for power. It's a landscape of blood and horror whose cruelty eclipses the terrorism that shocks us today. Into this iniquitous land go dozens of stouthearted Jesuits - the purest examples of Catholic virtue our continent has ever seen - preaching the Gospel to savages whose vicious lives cry out for the light of Christ.
Many of these men were murdered, and today eight are saints. From letters these eight wrote to their superiors by the light of campfires or by skimming lovely waters in swift canoes, John O' Brien has crafted the terrifying, inspiring and true tale of the Jesuit martyrs of North America.
O'Brien shows that in the best of times, these good men were surrounded by lasciviousness, pandemonium, and demonic rituals. Bad times brought bloody war, upraised tomahawks, the shrieks of victims, and constant fear that their superstitious hosts might turn against them without warning.
Patient, charitable, and heedless of their own lives, these Jesuits spoke constantly of Jesus, baptized thousands, and, even in the shadow of death, brought their converts the consoling graces of the sacraments. They cared for the sick, bandaged wounds, and - day in and day out - returned love for hatred, blessings for curses, and prayers for abuse.
All were murdered: some by a quick blow, the rest tortured until, with forgivenss in their hearts and Jesus' name on their lips, they died in the flames of their persecutors had set around them.
Saints of the American Wilderness tells of eight holy men who attempted nothing less than the conversion of a continent. Their zeal won for them the imperishable crown of martyrdom, and their blood sanctified the soil of North America."
~Marcy