42 Books Like Along Came A Spyder

Glaeser argues that cities are man’s greatest achievement. Where else can you find the conditions where the progress we have made in urban society come together to provide the kinds of civilization that we have evolved through cultural and scientific progress that appear most clearly in large cities? Technology is key to the 21st-century city in Glaeser’s celebration that he calls the Triumph of the Cities, and this history is reflected in Hall’s book, which follows.

This is a wonderful rapid read, and it complements Jane Jacobs's book below. It brings Jane Jacob's book up to date, but this implies Jane’s book is old fashioned–it isn’t–it is just that her work is over 60 years old, and the examples pertain back to the 1950s and 1960s.

This is a 1951 Indian novel, but don’t let that deter you. Narayan’s central character is a dreamy village banker who ends up running a bit of a hustle on all of the townspeople. I was braced for this to have an ugly, Bernie Madoff style ending. But that’s not exactly where it goes! I read this on a long flight from San Francisco to Bangalore – and this journey into a culture that was both familiar and surprising made the miles go by very fast. 

Bangalore, or Bengaluru, is a city I’m very familiar with in real life, and Lavanya Lakshminarayan’s Analog/Virtual, to be published in the West next year by Rebellion as The Ten-Percent Thief, does a splendid job of moving it to the future, using an intricately interconnected mosaic structure to take a wide-ranging look across the social and technological divides that present-day India will carry into the future, giving her readers bleakness, clarity, wonder, humour, and hope as she tells the multifaceted story of a revolution. Analog/Virtual was published in India the same year as Chosen Spirits (the Indian edition of The City Inside), and it was personally fascinating to me to see how similarly and differently we approached present-day social and political concerns in our future-real cities. Definitely a book (along with SB Divya’s Machinehood) that would have deeply influenced mine if I’d read it before writing.

A year or so ago, I read a lot of factual books about India, so I was delighted to find this Golden Age cozy mystery set in a land I was falling in love with through books. This book took me back to a pre-partition India still under British rule, with a realistic glimpse of life under colonialism alongside a hefty–hopefully less realistic–dose of murder and mystery.

I adored how Harini Nagendra created a strong, independent female character who still feels genuine and believable in the time and place in which the book is set–a time when most women were stifled, submissive, and governed by their husbands–and how the observations of colonization feel true to life while remaining both sympathetic and observant to the Indian culture and ways of life.

The setting is vividly portrayed, and the sights and sounds of 1920s India are an absolute delight. The main characters… show more.

I first picked this up in a bookshop in Bangalore, knowing nothing about it or the (now very famous) author.

I was unprepared for a novel that managed to evoke the lush and intense vibrancy of South Pacific Islands, the depravity of a real-life Nobel Prize winner who was accused of heinous crimes, and the heartbreak of losing someone to dementia – all at the same time.

This is an uncomfortable but unputdownable novel, and one that affected me so deeply I now have a tattoo of it; on my thumb is the symbol carved into wood to signal that the ’people in the trees’ live there, in memory of my beloved grandmother. 

A cracking, thorough portrait of contemporary Kolkata as the Bengali capital is now known, by an Indian author who grew up in New Jersey (very much the flipside to Calcutta) and who returns to the city of his ancestors to work for a newspaper. The book is well-written, crammed with interesting anecdotes and historic trivia. Past and present are held against the light and the results are often funny. It’s as good as a book by a privileged outsider who speaks the language is likely to be. Perhaps in another decade, a non-fiction chronicle will be written by a resident non-Brahmin writer. I have a feeling the city is waiting for it. In the meantime, Choudhury’s book serves as an excellent introduction to first-time visitors.

An office rivalry between software developer Emma and app developer Rishi takes an interesting turn when they’re sent to Bangalore to work on a project together.

Back in his home country, Rishi’s family pressures him to get married to a woman of the right caste/religion. Emma offers to create an algorithm to help Rishi find the perfect wife who might be a lot closer than he thinks!

This book does a wonderful job of delving into the challenges of an American woman dating an Indian man as well as the dynamics and relationships within an Indian family. Brooke Burroughs brings India to vibrant life on the page, and I felt as though I was falling in love with the country (and Rishi!) along with Emma.

I read this book on my way home from India about 9 years ago, after a women’s leadership conference in Bangalore at the Art of Living Foundation International Headquarters. 

It was the perfect supplement to the theme of the conference – supporting leaders. Management Mantras had a list of strategies and tips that I still use today, and greatly credit to my success. One of the best pieces of advice was the vacation schedule: 3-day weekend every month; 1 week every quarter; 2 weeks every 6 months. 

These breaks allow us to be rejuvenated and refreshed so we catch burnout before we burn up!  It is an easy read, very well written, and a great resource no matter where you are in your professional journey or industry.

This is an amazing book, gorgeously written, but I love it most because it takes us into a world we would never have access to: the Indian slum, where lives are hard, where the margins are impossibly thin, and where people make their living sorting through the waste of others.

But what Boo shows is that, no matter how hard those lives are, they are every bit as rich and complicated and full of drama as our own.

Mehta’s propulsive, strangely entertaining nonfiction book takes us into subterranean Bombay—into the underworld gangs, the bar dancers, the pavement dwellers. Despite its oft-times grim subject matter, the book exudes an energy and excitement that is reflective of the maximum city itself. As someone who grew up in a genteel, middle-class household in Bombay and was not familiar with the world described by Mehta, this eye-opening book served as a guide to places I have never been and roads I have never traveled.