The best books for navigating modern life without losing your soul

Since journalism school, I have always been drawn to storytelling that tells the truth, but better. Journalism that reads like fiction, that makes you feel something, and makes you think differently. The stories that stick with you and change your perspective on more than just the direct subject. Conversations questioning the self, identity, and the world around us, ultimately in the pursuit of happiness, make me feel alive. 

In university, I studied philosophers like Descartes, Voltaire, Plato, and Machiavelli. Then I fell in love with the classics like The Odyssey and Dante’s Inferno. From there, it was Joan Didion and Virginia Woolf. Through all of it, a common thread. How do we define humanity?

Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows explores themes like attention, discipline, cultural commentary, thought process, and emotional clarity. Over the last few decades, we have been experiencing a digital-age shift, and Carr’s writing shares the very human psychological impacts of technology. It’s the kind of book that reframes a cultural moment in time.

I recently saw a clip of Rick Rubin talking about art and AI. To paraphrase, he explains that he’s interested in artists because of their point of view. AI has no point of view. I watched him speak so eloquently (and so simply) about something I have tried to put words to for months. 

Creativity is akin to magic. It’s what sparks joy. It’s what makes you remember the details you do. What makes creativity powerful isn’t polish, but presence. Part of that story is the ability to notice, to feel, to pay attention to what most people rush past and capture it, if only for a moment. 

In The Creative Act, Rick Rubin distills that instinct into a way of being. He reminds us that creativity is a birthright. A way of moving through the world with sensitivity and curiosity. Rubin’s words are art in and of themselves. He is so authentically and unapologetically himself, and that unique voice and perspective make his book critically important in today’s AI age. 

Why is it that looking at the past, reading our history, studying ancient ruins, makes me feel better about facing today’s world?

I think about connection, a feeling that, despite having lived hundreds or thousands of years ago, there are still shared goals and commonalities between myself and them. 

Harari is one of those rare authors who can distill enormous amounts of information into a single sentence and hold your attention at the same time. Early in the book, Harari explains that as humans evolved to walk upright, the narrowing of the pelvis and hips made childbirth more treacherous. His line for this: “Women paid extra.” As a mother myself, when I read that line, it felt so modern, so lived-in, like the same line could describe my own feelings today.

Books like Sapiens aren’t really about the biology of humans, but about finding our humanity within a scientific exploration. For me, this book is an attempt to assign language to the journey of what it really means to be human, and the overwhelming complexity of that task. 

Investigative journalism has always been the dream. When I was 17, I thought I would change the world, cracking mysteries open one interview at a time like in the movies. Life didn’t quite work out that way, but narrative investigation is still a revered and epitomized medium. 

Stolen Focus embodies this investigative approach. It explores how constantly switching between technologies erodes creativity and offers a call to action to reclaim attention. Technology being so present in our daily lives is still relatively new. I was born in 1990 and grew up with a toe in both worlds, but television and computers of some form have been a part of my life since I can remember. 

The book speaks directly to my own concerns, which I eventually went on to write about, including “tab overload” and lost concentration. It blends human stories with scientific research, making it accessible to readers who crave cultural insight. It’s nonfiction that reads like fiction incarnate. 

Wolff’s memoir This Boy’s Life was the first true narrative nonfiction book I ever read, and it’s the one that made me fall in love with confessional, voice-driven writing. I’ve always loved reading other people’s diaries, and that’s what it feels like reading this book. 

The themes of this biography, written thirty years ago, don’t overlap with technology or the efficiency pressures of today, but the emotional experience is timeless. It has radical honesty, vulnerability, and the kind of immersive storytelling that makes you feel like you’re living inside someone else’s skin. In a modern age defined by speed, tech, and algorithms, that kind of authenticity is its own form of rebellion.

This Boy’s Life reminds us why human storytelling matters and why empathy is perhaps the most important practice of all. It captures a sort of self-reflective and philosophical humanness every book on this list carries, and exactly what we need to hold onto in the AI era.