89 Books Like All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

Tracing the thread of mystery and meaning through our lives can be so hard! Here’s a trick of the memoir trade: The world has a tendency to give us the metaphors we most need.

When I first read Terry Tempest Williams’ book, I was amazed by the parallels she drew between threats to her beloved Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, her family history of breast cancer, and her soul’s experiences in the Mormon church. Now, I know the perfect images to illustrate our inner world are always in plain sight. This is beautiful and enduring.

As I read M. Wylie Blanchet’s book, I myself was transported through time to one of the most magical and beautiful places in North America—the islands, bays, fjords, and estuaries of British Columbia.

In addition to being right on the water and immersed in the great forests, I was also, like her young children, at school, constantly learning new things about history, culture, ecology, philosophy, and even seamanship! The lively dialogue also made me feel like one of the family, conversing easily as we explored a land that was at that time, very sparsely populated by humanity.

Throughout the book, I noticed and enjoyed a theme of a rich cultural history that portrayed both the First People cultures as well as the fiercely independent and tough early Europeans who settled in select places along the coast. 

Sigurd Olson’s book is the most beautifully written and profound evocation of the utter beauty of the Quetico-Superior wilderness that I have ever read. Olson finds wonder and astonishment everywhere: trees, lakes, rivers, wildlife, and birds; the sound of rain; “laughing loons,” the signature sound of the North Country; falling leaves and bobcat trails.

I have read this entire book twice, and each time, I have learned more about appreciating the beauty of the wild. Each chapter is a unique lesson in seeing, hearing, and—most importantly—learning how to appreciate the wild and immerse oneself within it while leaving it intact. 

I felt like I was actually in the Alaskan wilds, ocean kayaking, hiking, camping, and exploring while reading Kim Heacox’s book. His descriptions, sensory imagery, and recounting of adventure and experiences both on and off the water made me feel like I was on the trip with him.

His interaction with wild animals was amazing and often was so exciting that it gave me chills. In addition, I enjoyed learning much about the amazing cultural and natural history of Alaska. The places, the people, and even the ancient past all came to life as I lost myself in this wonderful compilation of essays.

Throughout the book ran the poignant thread of human impact and change, which made me more aware and ready to vote for and write for change. 

Back when I was an atheist undergraduate college student, this book, among others, saved my life.

I’d walked away from everything religious and hence lacked all moral grounding. Although I was ambitious, I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. Only what I didn’t want to do with my life.

My animosity against all things religious was huge, but the stoic philosophy of discipline and self-control kept me from throwing my life away.

I came across this book in a bookstore when I was developing the morphology and physiology of the creatures in my book. It provided me with insights into what “my” extraterrestrials might look like and how they might differ physiologically from Earthbound creatures.

From the very concept of life beyond our planet, I was reminded that, like life on Earth, extraterrestrials could metabolize sulfur and/or arsenic and how, like on Earth, they would evolve to suit changing environmental conditions. Those very concepts were pivotal in the creation of the “bugs” in my story.

This is to me is the best book ever written for understanding what human beings are, how we are similar to and different from other animal species, how we develop from helpless newborns to fully functioning adults, and what we are striving for in our lives. Most nonfiction books make a point and then repeat it over and over with examples and anecdotes. In contrast, The Birth and Death of Meaning begins with evolution and progresses logically from its first page to its last. When you finish this book, you will have a much better understanding of yourself, the people in your life, historical and current events, and problems ranging from anxiety and depression to interpersonal conflict to prejudice.  

This memoir was written in 1955 but its wisdom is evergreen because, nearly seventy years later, it’s still very difficult to be a woman.

We are many things to many people and it’s easy to lose ourselves in that swirl of activity and to-dos, which is precisely what happened to me. Depression and anxiety had reading off limits to me for a time, and this was the kind, gentle book that brought me back to the page, the one that said, Yes, yes.

That’s how it is, to love. It’s hard, not because you’re doing it wrong, but because you’re doing it right.

Dave Barry has been cracking me up for decades. His columns in The Miami Herald used to come out on Mondays (in the newspaper to which my parents subscribed). I knew it was Monday when I heard my Dad snickering, cackling, or pulling out a tissue to wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Back then, I only understood some of the humor since much of it was about politics, and I was into Barbies, not government goings-on. As an adult, this book reminded me of Dave Barry's genius in finding the funny in everyday happenings. I only wish I could be that clever! It also reminded me of my Dad, whom I adored. Thanks for the comedy and wit, Mr. Barry!

This novel features a strong protagonist, separated from his love by an evil emperor.

I love characters that aren’t just fighting for a good cause, but are fighting for love, and this series features a gripping love story. The characters find a way to beat impossible odds using wits, magic, and courage. It’s one of the few books I was excited to read more than once.