100 Books Like Culture and the Evolutionary Process

Strictly speaking, there is very little math in this short book, but it nevertheless details precise models that yield loads of insight.

Using simple machines with sensors and motors, Braitenberg shows us how easy it is to generate behaviors that look purposeful and even emotional, and how hard it would be to guess how those behaviors were generated if we didn’t already know. This is a book I come back to again and again, not only for its valuable lessons, but also for its beautiful prose.

The models in this may be fictions, but, as Braitenberg advises, fiction is a necessary part of science “as long as our brains are only minuscule fragments of the universe, much too small to hold all the facts of the world but not too idle to speculate about them.” 

In 2016 I went to a conference in Leuven, Belgium, on computational approaches to understanding science. There I presented a model showing how selection for productivity (good old “publish or perish”) could, over time, degrade the quality of methods used by scientists.

I also met Cailin O’Connor, a philosopher and game theorist who was also studying science with formal models, with a focus on equity, or lack thereof. In this terrific book, Cailin uses game theory and evolutionary dynamics to consider how some social institutions lead to entrenched inequality among people or social classes, as well as how one might combat the forces of unfairness. 

Peter Turchin has gotten famous recently for predicting the US political upheaval of 2020 way back in 2012.

This book represents the first landmark of Turchin’s attempt to understand the ebbs and flows of history using dynamical models. The book’s centerpiece is a formalization of a theory about how empires rise and fall, first conceived by the 14th century (!) Arab scholar Ibn Khaldun.

The book inspired me to replicate the computational model it presents, and it was remarkably illuminating to watch empires grow, fight, and collapse on my computer screen. 

I have always been fascinated by how people join and leave groups.

What are the benefits of joining a particular group? Which group should I join? What happens if someone wants to join a group, but its current members don’t want them to? I once thought such questions were merely qualitative, and when I was a graduate student I thought I’d be the first to tackle them quantitatively.

I was humbled when I stumbled upon this book, written years earlier, in which two behavioral ecologists review game theoretic models that address questions of just this sort, starting simple, and building up models of increasing nuance and complexity. I think anyone interested in the dynamics of group formation in humans or other animals should read this book. 

This book gave me a profound realization: humans aren’t rational decision-makers—we’re copiers. We survive by inheriting “packages of expertise” passed down through generations, but over time, those packages lose their rationale. When circumstances change, blindly following tradition can become a liability.

My work is about helping people use AI, data, and collaboration to think through the consequences of their actions. This book explains why that’s so difficult—reasoning isn’t what got us here. We memorize and repeat what worked before, even when the world shifts beneath us.

In an increasingly volatile world, that strategy is failing, and this book makes it clear why new approaches to decision-making are needed. If you’ve ever wondered why people resist logic and innovation, this book will change how you see human behavior.

This clearly written and well-researched book shows that human evolution is as much about culture as it is about genes. Both evolve. And both involve the Darwinian principles of variation, selection, and replication of key bits of information. Robert Boyd and Peter Richerson are among the leading contributors to our understanding of how genes and culture co-evolve. The work rebuts exclusively gene-based accounts, and it shows how human evolution operates on multiple levels. Darwinian ideas remain paramount because they provide the over-arching framework in which both genetic and cultural evolution interact and guide human behavior. This book shows how a Darwinian evolutionary approach can rescue the theory of culture in social science from its many vagaries and past wrong turns.

Nellie McClung, one of the “famous five,” is a well-known name in Canadian history for her role in fighting for the vote for women. But it turns out she was also a eugenicist. This book does a great job of knitting those two elements together and explaining not just why so many early feminists also believed in eugenic principles but how those principles were part of the same thinking. One of the challenges in understanding eugenics is answering the question of how it was that ideas, which we find repugnant today, had such power a hundred years ago. Devereux’s Introduction is one of the best things I have read to help grapple with that question.

Bill Mason was a legend in the world of paddling. He was old-school: red and black plaid wool shirt, wood-and-canvas canoe, canvas lean-to-style tent. His sojourns in the North Woods inspired me in my own explorations of the Deep South. When he paddled Lake Superior, I thought of Louisiana's Atchafalaya Swamp. When he canoed the Hood River, I thought of Mississippi's Pascagoula.

This book combines in-depth advice on wilderness travel with accounts of some of Bill's own journeys. He was also an artist and filmmaker. His documentary, Waterwalker, is a must-see classic for anyone who loves adventure on the water. 

I love this book because it refuses to sanitize childhood chaos.

I know Cea personally, and knowing what it took for her to tell this story makes the book even more powerful. Her upbringing was wildly unconventional—often unsafe—and she doesn’t soften that truth to make it more inspirational or digestible.

What stayed with me wasn’t just the extremity of her early life, but the clarity with which she tells it: no victimhood, no theatrics, no moral clean-up. This book reminded me that resilience doesn’t come from pretending things weren’t messy—it comes from looking directly at what was, and choosing consciousness anyway.

Even though Daisy and Brittney are the POV leads of this tale, Ivy – a character without a POV – is the reason I added this book to the list. All three girls are complex leads that seem to wind up tighter before the book delivers a gory, emotional gut-punch of an ending. It's like the embodiment of "they had me in the first half, I'm not gon' lie."

I still feel a swell in my chest when I remember the ending of this book. The feelings of unease I felt as I crept deeper into this haunted house story are just as memorable as the utter relief that ripped through me throughout the epic finale.

I cried, I screamed, and most importantly—I felt a LOT.