Books like Bowling Alone — picked by fans

I've been fascinated by a simple question for most of my life: Why do so many of us feel something is missing, even when our lives appear successful from the outside? 

That question led me through recovery, broadcasting, entrepreneurship, spiritual study, financial collapse, heartbreak, and ultimately the writing of Unlearning Myself. The books on this list each helped me see, from a different angle, that what I was searching for wasn't somewhere else waiting for me. It was hidden beneath layers of fear, striving, performance, and identity. I return to these books because they continue helping me remember what was never actually missing.

I’ve invested much of my life searching for what makes humans free—truly free. That search—and what I found—transformed my life, my work, and everything I teach. Here’s what I found: the difference between a life of struggle and a life of freedom isn’t circumstance—it’s consciousness. Most of us get stuck in mental states of blame, shame, obligation, and disengagement within accountability systems we’ve mistaken for “being responsible”—society’s favorite control tool used by authorities of all kinds, from parents and teachers to managers. Every book on this list cracked me open. I applied each one to myself first. This is the narrative of my life.

As a product of a Methodist preacher and a public school teacher, I learned about community early on. Church basements and living rooms were where I first saw what it means to show up for one another. My grandmother's faith steadied our family in uncertain times, and those lessons shaped me. In my career, I've had the privilege of working in South Africa, organizing in communities across the country, and serving in the White House. Each experience deepened my understanding of how fragile—and how powerful—our institutions can be. I’m drawn to books that wrestle with how we hold community together because I’ve learned that communities don’t hold themselves. We choose whether they endure.

As a product of a Methodist preacher and a public school teacher, I learned about community early on. Church basements and living rooms were where I first saw what it means to show up for one another. My grandmother's faith steadied our family in uncertain times, and those lessons shaped me. In my career, I've had the privilege of working in South Africa, organizing in communities across the country, and serving in the White House. Each experience deepened my understanding of how fragile—and how powerful—our institutions can be. I’m drawn to books that wrestle with how we hold community together because I’ve learned that communities don’t hold themselves. We choose whether they endure.

As a product of a Methodist preacher and a public school teacher, I learned about community early on. Church basements and living rooms were where I first saw what it means to show up for one another. My grandmother's faith steadied our family in uncertain times, and those lessons shaped me. In my career, I've had the privilege of working in South Africa, organizing in communities across the country, and serving in the White House. Each experience deepened my understanding of how fragile—and how powerful—our institutions can be. I’m drawn to books that wrestle with how we hold community together because I’ve learned that communities don’t hold themselves. We choose whether they endure.

As a product of a Methodist preacher and a public school teacher, I learned about community early on. Church basements and living rooms were where I first saw what it means to show up for one another. My grandmother's faith steadied our family in uncertain times, and those lessons shaped me. In my career, I've had the privilege of working in South Africa, organizing in communities across the country, and serving in the White House. Each experience deepened my understanding of how fragile—and how powerful—our institutions can be. I’m drawn to books that wrestle with how we hold community together because I’ve learned that communities don’t hold themselves. We choose whether they endure.

The slander and abuse of current political discourse does not even rise to the level of disagreement. After all, disagreement is an opposition between opinions, not a fight between opinionators. I do not express my disagreement with your views by threatening to kill you. In my book, The Art of Disagreement, I offer a guide to a better political rhetoric by showing that storytelling can create the social trust necessary for political arguments to be productive. I am now Professor of Government at Dartmouth College, where I teach political philosophy. 

The slander and abuse of current political discourse does not even rise to the level of disagreement. After all, disagreement is an opposition between opinions, not a fight between opinionators. I do not express my disagreement with your views by threatening to kill you. In my book, The Art of Disagreement, I offer a guide to a better political rhetoric by showing that storytelling can create the social trust necessary for political arguments to be productive. I am now Professor of Government at Dartmouth College, where I teach political philosophy. 

I grew up in a very small town in northern Minnesota (which also happens to be home to the world’s largest turkey). The town had a vibrant community spirit, which I took for granted then. For the last 15 years, I have been passionately learning how to create flourishing communities that can make our lives better and be great places for raising the next generation of children. This list reflects the best of what I have learned and incorporated into teaching classes on the topic of “building community.” 

A professor of business at the University of Cambridge, I've spent over two decades studying innovation. I've been particularly interested in “frugal innovation”: how small teams now use ubiquitous tools and technologies to achieve what only large corporations or governments could a decade ago. I've written two books about this phenomenon: Jugaad Innovation and Frugal Innovation about the private sector. Whenever I gave talks about them, there was always the question: What does this mean for governments? I began to study how the state could use new technologies and ways of organizing to deliver services to its citizens better, faster and cheaper, and how governments should regulate and cultivate such tools used by the private sector.