100 Books Like American Genesis

This slim volume, first published in 1995, possibly jump-started the current genre of science narratives–I was certainly well aware of it when World on Fire was published in 2005. The tale begins in 1707 when the English fleet crashed into the Scilly Isles twenty miles southwest of England; two thousand men drowned, all because navigators had misgauged longitude.

The desperate quest for a solution becomes a well-funded race to make sure this never happens again. Sobel chronicles how it was solved by a simple clockmaker, and the obstacles thrown in his path by the more respected members of the era’s scientific establishment. It helps to read Kuhn’s work first, or in tandem: for all the accolades heaped upon success, both works make clear the hard road and lonely life traveled by the outsider.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was The Way Things Work, not the more recent David Macaulay book—which is also good—but the earlier 1967 book by T. Lodewijk. With great diagrams, it showed how complicated machines work.

Randall Munroe's Thing Explainer, while less comprehensive, similarly captures this magic for me. It has great diagrams and simple clarifying text—self-consciously limited to the 1,000 words people use the most. I could stare at the diagrams for hours, learning about everything from cameras (“picture takers”) to submarines (“boats that go under the sea”).

Initially, The Gift might seem an odd choice for this category. Hyde argues that art must be part of a gift economy, not simply commercially bought and sold, but also given and received. I had a chance encounter with Hyde’s father, who was appropriately proud of his son’s book, but he said that he thought the same analysis could be made about how science operates.

This idea changed my perspective on science and technology. When I began to look at science and technology this way, it made sense to me. Scientists will frequently trade what they have learned with each other, for example at conferences—they give their information away in exchange for prestige and for return gifts of information from other scientists. It is part of being a member of the science club.

Another odd choice for this category and an unusual but nonetheless compelling book. Elkins talks about painting in terms of medieval alchemy. The point, however, is right down my street: it is about the materiality of painting.

Put aside the meaning of a finished artwork and think about the acts behind its making, from creating paint from various pigments and oils to brushing them on stretched canvas. This helped me understand the lives of people who work with materials, things, and stuff, including scientists and engineers. What they think is important, but so is what they do and their facility in doing it.

I loved this book because it provides a unique view of the ramifications of AI, including its impact on politics, international relations, and the military. While not a book one would use to learn the basics of the technology of artificial intelligence, it nevertheless provides a useful view of its important non-technical ramifications.

Renowned astrophysicist Martin Rees examines humanity’s existential risks and opportunities with a clarity that’s both scientific and urgent. I love the extent to which Rees tackles climate change, biotechnology, and, crucially, artificial intelligence, offering a balanced perspective on the promises and perils of technological progress.

His insights on AI’s role in warfare align closely with my own concerns, particularly the unpredictable nature of autonomous systems. Rees’ call for global collaboration and ethical foresight is a rallying cry that echoes throughout my work as well.

As an author of science fiction, I loved this book because each chapter included a brief science fiction short story illustrating the chapter’s subject. This is another very-readable book for non-technical people interested in what the future of AI will be like.

The book estimates when various ramifications of AI will occur, but the field is advancing at an accelerating rate, so the dates need to be taken with a grain of salt.

Most of my work experiences have been with startups, but that statement is a bit misleading. To be more accurate, I worked at early-stage companies, since the smallest company I worked for was already 35 people. Chaos Monkeys conveys both the excitement and drudgery of founding a real start-up (Antonio starts with two other co-founders).

Antonio’s book takes us from his cushy job on Wall Street to making the leap to running his own venture. Antonio’s flavorful style is the perfect voice as he takes you into those meetings at which money is exchanged, contracts are signed, and options are handed out. His company’s exit and his summation of what was gained and lost are the bread and butter conversations of anyone who’s ever worked in a high-tech startup. This is an illuminating and insightful book.

For my final choice, I recommend a work of fiction that made me think deeply about the future of money, markets, institutions, and society. I started reading Ari Juels’ book out of polite interest since I met him, and I can personally testify to his smartness and niceness.

Once I started reading it, however, I couldn’t put it down! It’s a very well-crafted story that draws the reader into the world of blockchains and digital assets with, I thought, very human and believable characters. I can tell you firsthand that trying to write a novel about the future of money is incredibly difficult—I’ve tried! I take my hat off to him for this excellent work, which I hope will cause more people to take the future of money and all it implies more seriously. 

Like so much else Mumford wrote, this book is a volcano of provocative ideas that I found revelatory when I first read it and still do. Published in 1970, it summarizes much of Mumford’s thinking about the largely invisible and growing power structure he calls the Megamachine that threatens humanity and life on planet Earth.

His earlier writing, including The City in History (1961) and his essay The Natural History of Urbanization (1956), was formative for my own thinking about urban parasitism and aggression. Although a lover of cities, as am I, Mumford was well aware of the consequences of their depredations.