100 Books Like Authority and Freedom

Paul Fussell was a soldier in World War II, and he was also a professor of literature. His great book examines the way the experience of war changed a generation. It also changed literature (and art). After the experience of war, poets could no longer write about the world in idealized and romantic ways. They had to find forms to express the experience of being alive in ways that were new and shocking.

I love how Fussell uses his own experience of both war and scholarship to explain why Western art took such a turn in the 20th century. It helped me to understand modernist literature and myself.

My life is divided between before reading this book and after. Nothing has changed the way that I understand the world or altered how I experience art and reality like this book.

Eksteins is a historian with the gifts of an artist. He intertwines World War I with Njinsky’s inelegant movements and Stravinsky’s discordant sounds and somehow creates an interpretation, an understanding of the past that can only come through artful means. I’ve had to buy three copies of this book because I wore out the first two. I expect I’ll soon be needing a fourth copy.

This is a book, but it was also a fabulous TV series. I first read the book when I was trying to make a living as a freelance writer. I couldn’t afford to buy it, so I went to a different bookstore every day and read it through. (I have since bought myself a copy.)

Hughes traces the art of the 20th century following movements like Cubism and Dadaism. I found this book so engrossing because Hughes really takes on the idea that this art was made by people who thought it could change the world, that it could shape the world. Even if we’re not so sure of the function of art in our own time, it is exhilarating to read about the art that was created with such fervour. 

Honestly, I love anything that was written by John Berger. And though many of us turn to his Ways of Seeing to better understand art, I found this collection of essays about art to be even more expansive, even more thought-provoking.

Berger always wrote from a certain political perspective, but he was never dogmatic. He was not an ideologue. Above all, this book (and all his books) offer little glimpses of the unexplainable effect of art, of the way that the artist must wrestle with the art and that nothing is ever definitive. Whenever I feel like the world is in a bad place, I go back to Berger to understand the ways in which meaning and seeking meaning through art make living worthwhile.

This book helped crystallize something I’ve long suspected: that democracy’s strength—its openness—is also its greatest vulnerability. Gershberg and Illing don’t just chart the rise of populist rhetoric or disinformation; they go deeper, showing how the evolution of media itself has upended the cultural foundations of democratic life.

Their argument that “media ecology is the master political science” felt especially resonant. It’s not just what we know—it’s how we come to know it, and how that process can be gamed. If you want to understand why democratic institutions feel so unstable today, this is one of the sharpest diagnoses I’ve read.

I love this book because Ivan Illich pulls no punches. I love the way he clearly points out how intertwined schools are with the nature of society, in a feedback loop of influence. Our very souls may be wounded by these structures, even when they are established with good intentions.

This “radical” book gave me permission to understand that I could connect the ecological and pedagogical, the theological and the social, the economic and the affective. Our nature permits endless noncoerced learning, but schools pervert that. Even though I understand how this message can be twisted for purposes of privatization and control, I love the idealism and humanism at its core.

Considering the legal apparatus as part of the state, Pashukanis puts forward the “commodity-form” theory of law in order to conceptualize the apotheosis of law under and fundamental to capitalism. Following Lenin, and against the claims of many of his Soviet philosopher contemporaries, Pashukanis argues that the withering away of the state should also imply the withering away of law. In making this argument he also examines the construction of legal relations and the legal subject. Pashukanis’ analysis has been revisited and revived in critical legal studies giving rise to scholarly studies such as China Miéville’s Between Equal Rights—which is how I initially discovered it, being a fan of Miéville’s fiction!

The relentless and erudite work of Arendt never ceases to challenge me. In the books included here—Thinking and Willing—she explores what it means that the self knows itself to be a self, and how that knowledge refracts and splits upon encountering others, and then changes when returning to solitude again. I read her knowing that she has not just considered but felt her ideas. “To be alive means to be possessed by an urge toward self-display. . . .Up to a point we can choose how to appear to others.”

This is a remarkable book (the first of two volumes), taking in a huge sweep of history, making bold claims about social change over the centuries, yet focusing as much on manners, civility, and such everyday matters as how we eat at table as much as it does on the changing nature of medieval society and the rise of the modern nation-state. A deeply serious book, but one with chapter titles that include ‘On blowing one’s nose’, ‘On spitting,’ and ‘On behaviour in the bedroom’. Elias has had a huge impact on modern understanding of social change, not least in documenting and analysing the centuries-long trend toward diminishing violence and increasing shame and ‘civility’ in daily life. 

Many of us, when young, read Looking-Glass with Carroll’s first work, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but it was as an adult, eager to reflect philosophically, that I began to appreciate deep puzzles within our language and consciousness – and these are more prominent in Looking-Glass.  

I taught philosophy for many years – oops, not true, I don’t think philosophy can be taught. Rather, I encourage people to step back and think philosophically by confronting paradoxes, using their imagination, and looking beyond appearances. I often recommend Looking-Glass to achieve a sense of bewilderment and the delicious desire to dig into and question everyday assumptions of living.