Books like Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity — picked by fans

Few books have reminded me more powerfully that our circumstances and our inner life are not the same thing.

I first read Man's Search for Meaning years ago, and its impact has only deepened over time. Frankl's willingness to look directly at suffering without becoming defined by it challenged many of the assumptions I carried about happiness, success, and what it takes to live a meaningful life.

I return to this book because it continually reminds me that meaning is not something life hands us once everything finally goes our way. It is something we discover in how we meet what life places before us.

During difficult seasons of my own life, Frankl's perspective helped me remember that even when we cannot control our circumstances, we still have a relationship with how we respond to them. Few books have given me more courage, perspective, and hope.

What is the meaning of life? We could take the question further by disposing of our blinkers and asking, what is the meaning of the other lives that may not look like ours? These lives consist of the millions of animals who die in the factory farms built to conceal their suffering and turn them into fungible objects, not lives. Safran’s book is an eye-opening exposition of how we have enslaved animals for food that we don’t even need in the 21st century—damaging ourselves and the environment in the process. One meaning of life: the value of letting other lives have meaning too.

The idea to adapt Conrad’s Heart of Darkness came from my teaching of modern world history every semester. Later in that course, I would have students read Achebe’s novel as a foil or answer to Heart of Darkness. The Congolese in Heart are barely people: they have no names, and they are only really described by parts of their bodies.

This book presents the West African world–the communities, the customs, the emotions, the families–that colonialism destroys. While it is easy to be swept away by the story’s momentum in the last two dozen pages, take some time early in the novel to enjoy the world that Achebe lovingly paints. I think it is among the most human expressions of fiction you can read.  

My book club found this book depressing and shook their heads at my choice. I found it a fascinating account of a life that is meaningful for its owner. The protagonist is a woman dying in an abandoned mental hospital after years of abuse and neglect. And yet, she has a psychological condition that makes her infinitely compassionate towards others: she can only perceive goodwill and love. When she tells the story of her “happy life,” she even feels bad for her rapist. You will love or hate this book. But it will make you think.

The modern age lumbers on like a wounded mammoth, but are its wounds fatal?

This is the question Hans Blumenberg asks in this magisterial, cathedralic book. The project and promise of modernity, Blumenberg points out, consists of the attempted rejection of all arbitrary forms of authority. That is, all powers that cannot justify themselves through human argument and agreement, whether this be derived from the arbitrariness of one’s birthplace or background, unquestioning adherence to tradition, or to nature’s blind and bloody precedent.

Abraded to its minimalist core, it is this kernel of the modern project—the birth of which Blumenberg traces to the late Middle Ages—that we can thank for later advances ranging from civil rights to women’s liberation. But, in the wake of the atrocities that split the previous century in half, the legitimacy of modernity came into question. Technoscience, the handmaiden of modernity, seemed a plausible culprit for gas… show more.

Apart from the existential fiction that I love (Dostoevsky, Kafka, Camus, etc.), this is one of my favorite books of all time. The editor, Walter Truett Anderson, gathered together the best collection ever of essays on the topics of postmodernism, deconstruction (and reconstruction), the wobbly nature of truth in the twentieth century (and now, the twenty-first century), and how we might go about reconstructing the truth now that we have so beautifully and mercilessly deconstructed it.

Authors included are Umberto Eco, Michel Foucault, Jean Baudrillard, Richard Rorty, Bell Hooks, and a ton of other great thinkers on the subject of our postmodern malaise and the difficulties of belief … in anything. If you don’t know this book, you will really, really want to get to know it.

Dave Barry has been cracking me up for decades. His columns in The Miami Herald used to come out on Mondays (in the newspaper to which my parents subscribed). I knew it was Monday when I heard my Dad snickering, cackling, or pulling out a tissue to wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Back then, I only understood some of the humor since much of it was about politics, and I was into Barbies, not government goings-on. As an adult, this book reminded me of Dave Barry's genius in finding the funny in everyday happenings. I only wish I could be that clever! It also reminded me of my Dad, whom I adored. Thanks for the comedy and wit, Mr. Barry!

Oprah is my hero. I can think of no more impressive entrepreneur, from what she started with to what she built and the impact she has had on the world. For many people, understanding one’s purpose and direction is the first step towards becoming a successful entrepreneur and a happy and fulfilled human being. This book will help you begin to do the hard work to get there.

For those interested in the hidden mysteries of science and nature and trying to work out the meaning of life, this is essential reading. It goes from the creation to the end of the world, explaining the various mysteries along the way, all of which are not actually secret, but in plain sight, if you know where and how to look.

This is the darkest of Hermann Hesse’s well-known spiritual journey novels. Unlike works such as Siddhartha, and Demian, Harry Haller in Steppenwolf is a despondent, surly, and suicidal misfit, incapable of coming to grips with the bourgeois culture around him, which seems to him irreparably antithetical to the classical art and literature he worships.

Haller’s eventual spiritual awakening is far more subtle and less dazzling than those Hesse portrayed in other works, and for me, therefore, in many ways more relatable. Deeply ingrained in my mind is Hesse’s image of the gramophone playing tinny, distorted works by master classical composers—which Haller at first despises— but then comes to see that it is much like his trying to decipher mystical truth, which manifests to him in a sort of abridged and imperfect form—because that is all that we, as corporeal humans, are able to discern.