Books like A Natural History of the Senses — picked by fans

In this classic book, Kuhn introduces the idea of a "paradigm" and shows that real progress comes through paradigm shifts.

That hit me like a rock when I first read it. I love how in the second edition, Kuhn talks about the difficulties of deep change: "the problem is that the new paradigm is always worse than the old one." 

The new paradigm may be better in some way, but it is also sketchy, unformed, and it creates lots of new uncertainties. So, for somebody to shift to a new paradigm always requires a leap of faith!

My father gave me a copy of this book when I was in 6th grade and it introduced the world of natural science to me. This was the first in a series of volumes that collected his monthly essays written for Natural History magazine.

Gould has an eye for unusual scientific phenomena that illuminate a deeper truth about the relationship between humanity and the natural world. He was not afraid to tackle moral issues, such as eugenics and the science of IQ, recognizing the importance of the popular scientist as more than just a translator.

But the most important thing for the 11-year-old me was that he was such a clear writer–I could follow all of his arguments without knowing anything about genetics, statistics, or anatomy. I still have the copy my father gave me–it is dog-eared, and the spine is long broken, but when I thumb through it, I… show more.

A gruesome story of murder and desire that also happens to have the most vivid olfactory descriptions of any genre.

Suskind’s preternatural ability to summon odor from the page makes you feel as if you are there beside him, walking through the flowered hillsides of Provence, or in the back room of a perfume shop on the Pont au Change. His twisted use of classic perfume techniques is as accurate as it is chilling.

I lived Augusten Burroughs’ life while walking in the U.S. National Arboretum through the medium of his audiobook. Augusten Burroughs’ parents had the same issues as my parents, and his life was as eclectic as mine. This allowed me to heal my long-time wounds in a way.

The more I read about the emotional struggles of others, the easier it is for me to fully remember the darkest moments of my childhood. This particular memoir also made it difficult for me to put it down because of its very bizarre plot and dark humor. Additionally, I was fascinated to read about the time before I was born. Isn’t it odd that the world once existed without us?

Luca Turin, a biophysicist and writer, is obsessed with smell. You know those poetic-seeming, almost made-up descriptors we see in wine marketing? Well, that’s how he talks about smells. Turin also wants to figure out how we smell, which we still don’t know the answer to. Ultimately, by delving into some past research and building on it, he finds some answers, though they’re still not widely embraced.

Burr shares Turin’s story about the complexities of navigating the world of sensory science, especially as a passionate iconoclast. It also left me thinking about the art and science of sensing and about who has more expertise–the seasoned perfumer who can detect the fine notes within a glass bottle or the research scientist trying to describe the smell in a purely factual, scientific way.

This was a best-seller and rightly so.

It covers the broad and often astounding range of animal senses and how they perceive and understand the world they inhabit, their umwelt. Consciousness depends on it, for without senses we would have no path toward self-awareness. While not the same as consciousness, self-awareness is its most important feature.

Dogs and smell, whales and echolocation, bees and ultraviolet light, sharks and electric fields, all shape how differently animals experience their worlds. Knowing this expands our own understanding and appreciation of the one we inhabit. At the same time, it is humbling to acknowledge how the creatures we share the planet with have such different perceptions. In that is great responsibility.

This is a book about how our different experiences of the senses unite and divide us, as explored through Braille Without Borders, which was the first school for the blind in Tibet.

It’s about how self-actualized and independent many blind people are, even as they inhabit a world that views blindness as one of the worst things that could happen to a person, even a curse. For the students at this school, who’ve sometimes been ostracized in their communities, school is an opportunity many of their sighted peers don’t have, further complicating their relationships. For me, it was a reminder of something basic about vision. 

We don’t know how to use sight when we’re born. We must learn it. And that early experience changes the lens through which we see for the rest of our lives.

This is my curveball selection because it’s fiction. It’s a dystopian book about our disconnection from our sense of touch, and it so well highlights our fears about technology cutting us off from true experiences. It tells the story of Sloan, who works at a company whose consumers prefer virtual relationships and whose partner believes in something called “post-sexual sex.” 

But she slowly realizes that people, including herself, are feeling deprived, and she goes on a journey to fight for connection. If I had a criticism of this book as fiction only, I’d say it feels very obviously topical in a way that sometimes detracts from the narrative. But as a treatise on the value of touch, it delivers entirely.

Historian Mark Smith has written widely on the topic of understanding sensory experiences of the past.

At just over 100 pages long, his most recent book is an excellent insight into the field for both those new to it, and those who are already familiar with writing history of the senses.

Starting with an overview of the origins of sensory history and moving through to consider both the strengths and challenges of current research in this area, Smith concludes this book with a clear, accessible, and persuasive argument for future directions of work in the field.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough for anyone interested in exploring sensory history!

What did Tudor England look, sound, or smell like?

This is an innovative work from Amy Licence, historian of women's lives. Using the five senses, she skilfully plunges readers into sixteenth-century England, letting us see, hear, smell, taste, and (almost) touch the Tudor world like we've never experienced it before.