Books like Blind Spots — picked by fans

Yale professor John Bargh is a wonderful writer and a great storyteller.

We all know that our minds operate at both a conscious and an unconscious level, but not until I read this book did I realize how much happens at the unconscious level and that this helps explain everything from how getting a flu shot affects our attitudes toward immigration to how having power can induce us to try to unfairly advantage people we perceive to be like us at the expense of “out-group” members. 

I was intrigued to learn about “moral disengagement,” which is a particular way of thinking about the processes, pressures, and biases that lead good people to do bad things.

The creation of the late Albert Bandura, a psychologist at Stanford University and one of the most influential psychologists of modern times, moral disengagement is the process by which we separate our identity as good people from the bad acts that we do so that we can do what we wish but still think of ourselves as good folks.

At more than 400 pages, this book is not a quick read, but learning about the mechanisms of moral disengagement is endlessly fascinating. The book never bores.   

This is the best book I’ve read about the human dreams and failings of white-collar criminals.

With Soltes’ direct access to headline names—like Bernie Madoff, Jeffrey Skilling, and Marc Drier—I steeped myself in his profound research on our myths about “nurture vs. nature,” whether companies are inherently “good” or “bad,” and whether criminal behavior inside companies is performed by fundamentally “bad” people. The book taught me about the psyche of embezzlers and the conditions inside companies that influence their stealing. That knowledge took me beyond my own familial myths about George Hormel’s embezzler and enhanced my understanding of why he likely did his stealing.

The book also outlined the great impact of white-collar crime on families, companies, and our economy, leading me to a more nuanced understanding of southern Minnesota in the 1920s. History and humanity are woven together in whole cloth, and Soltes’ work allowed me to speculate about… show more.

I know and admire Paul Woodruff, a noted philosopher at the University of Texas. His worldview has been shaped by his experiences as a young soldier in the Vietnam War and he has spent much of his professional life trying to make sense of those experiences.

The book begins with Woodruff remembering a time, 50 years ago, when he was lying in ambush in Vietnam, pondering the question that he attempts to answer in this book: “What makes the difference in a human being between acting ethically and not? Specifically, in a soldier, between committing atrocities and holding back?” He realized at that moment that all his philosophy training at Princeton had not helped him answer that question.

Much of his discussion in this book, written half a century later, finds useful guidance by focusing on the psychological influences of behavioral ethics rather than the philosophical musings of Socrates.

I like to think I’m a good person—and this book reminded me that being one doesn’t make hard decisions any easier. What it did give me was permission to stop expecting clarity all the time. I appreciated how it showed that ethical choices aren’t always about right vs. wrong but sometimes right vs. right.

It helped me see that moral discomfort isn’t a failure—it’s a sign that I care. And that these decisions, while messy and imperfect, are survivable. That meant something to me. I didn’t walk away with all the answers, but I did walk away feeling braver.

I’ve never forgotten the Milgram experiment—but I’d never turned it inward until I read this book. It forced me to ask: Do I ever follow instructions just because they’re expected? That question unsettled me—in a good way.

This book helped me recognize the quiet moments where obedience can blur into complicity. And more importantly, it gave me tools to pause, reflect, and re-anchor my values. What stayed with me most was the reminder that ethical clarity doesn’t have to happen in isolation. Community and collaboration are essential—not going it alone is a value I didn’t realize I’d been craving.

I loved this book because it doesn’t pretend that ethical decision-making is clean or easy—it acknowledges the mess and dives right in. I’ve always found myself frustrated by how people talk about ethics like it’s obvious or binary: “I would always do this” or “I’d never do that.” But real life isn’t like that, and this book knows it.

Reading it felt strangely comforting, like someone finally said out loud that these choices are hard—and that it’s okay to struggle with them. It reads like self-help in the best way. I didn’t just come away feeling smarter; I came away knowing myself better. It helped me clarify my values and gave me language for the quiet tug-of-war that happens inside when I’m facing a tough call.

Too often, too many of us, ask “Victim Questions” like “When are they going to train me?” or “When are they going to tell us what’s going on?”

Instead of asking “Victim Questions” John teaches us to ask  “QBQs” (The Question Behind the Question).  For example, “What could I do to get trained?” or “How could I find out what is going on?  Asking QBQ’s has consistently moved me from being stuck to having a way forward! 

In this beautifully written and painfully honest memoir, the author gives up buying anything but consumables for a year. During that year, she realizes the treadmill of consumerism had kept her stuck and unhappy. Working to live, living to work. She dives deep into the cycles of spending, debt, and regret and realizes how often she had turned to spending, food, and booze to avoid feeling her feelings. 

Not only did Cait’s journey remind me so much of my own in my 20’s. Spending money I didn’t have to make myself feel better about things I couldn’t change about myself, all the while ignoring the things I could change, she also reminded me of so many of my clients. Hoping that the stuff they buy will fix their problems.

Based on Stanford’s popular design thinking course, this book teaches readers how to approach life decisions the way designers approach creative problems, through prototyping, experimentation, and curiosity.

Instead of suggesting that people must choose one perfect path, Burnett and Evans help readers test ideas, explore possibilities, and build lives that fit their values and strengths. 

I first encountered design thinking while founding a community nonprofit, and it changed the way I supported students. This book gives language and structure to something I encourage all young people to do: try things, follow your curiosity, and gather real-world data about what brings you alive.

It is one of my most recommended tools for designing a fulfilled life.