Books like Eco Thrifty Living — picked by fans

This book peeled back the curtain on the hidden costs of the things we buy. Leonard explains where our stuff comes from, where it goes when we throw it away, and how the entire system is designed to keep us consuming.

It’s a deeply researched but incredibly engaging read that makes you rethink your everyday choices. If you’ve ever wondered why things aren’t made to last anymore, this book gives you the answers.

Wallman’s concept of ‘stuffocation’—being suffocated by too much stuff—deeply resonated with me. This book explores how consumer culture has left us overwhelmed, unhappy, and craving more meaningful experiences.

It offers an insightful, research-backed case for prioritizing experiences over material possessions. If you’re looking for a compelling argument to help you shift away from material excess and towards a richer life, this book will help you get there.

This book completely changed the way I think about ownership. The Buy Nothing movement is more than just decluttering—it’s about building communities and reimagining our relationship with stuff. Clark and Rockefeller offer a compelling alternative to consumerism by showing how gifting, sharing, and reusing can enrich our lives.

It’s both inspiring and deeply practical, full of real-life examples of how people thrive by giving rather than consuming. If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by stuff but hesitant to embrace minimalism, this book offers a powerful middle ground.

Patrick Grant, renowned for his work in sustainable fashion, presents a compelling guide to reducing consumption without compromising on style.

This book dives into the benefits of slow fashion, conscious shopping, and repairing rather than replacing. His insights into craftsmanship and longevity in clothing resonate far beyond the wardrobe, making this book a valuable resource for anyone looking to embrace a more thoughtful, minimalist lifestyle.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Motherland because it resonates with my own theme of writing about the difficulties of being a wife and a mother.

Here, the heroine, Fran Clarke, a 37-year-old stay-at-home mum, is completely flawed. She is overwhelmed by motherhood, marriage, and has given up keeping up with the Joneses. Her former career as a talented voice artist has been replaced by a new task, i.e., drinking, and she repeatedly misses every tiny break life may throw her way.

She is also convinced that her husband Richard is having an affair but does nothing to confront him. And yet there is something so endearing about her that you can’t help but root for her to get her act together.

Her husband is doing all he can to keep the marriage and the family going, but he, too, is overwhelmed by her decline. I also felt for her when she… show more.

I read this book as a student in my teenage years. To say it was an eye-opener is both to underestimate its impact on me and to reveal just how little I understood, or simply took for granted, about women’s lives (including my mother’s). Oakley’s book, published in 1974, explores the role of the ‘housewife’ and the nature of ‘housework’ and places both in their historical and social context. At heart, it helped puncture such male-oriented myths as the idea that there was something intrinsic to such activity that made it “women’s work” and that it wasn’t the equivalent of real work. In short, using in-depth interviews with young mothers (four of which are used as case studies here) it made housework visible as something to be considered alongside, and in some respects in the same way, as we might think about other forms of labour.  

The Birthday Reunion combines the classic elements of a locked room thriller with a look at the dynamics of female friendships, a topic I always find fascinating.

It’s set on an exotic and remote tropical island, with some glamorous characters. I read it on a couple of typically grey days in London, and could almost feel the sunshine. It proves locked room thrillers don’t always have to be set on dark and stormy nights!

Of course, the title leapt out at me from the bookshop shelf! And on reading the first page I fell in love with Shafak’s lyrical writing.

As I read further, I was drawn into the stories of love in many guises within its pages. I was intrigued by the way the author wove a modern narrative of a deeply unhappy American housewife with a story about the historical character, thirteenth-century Sufi poet, Rumi, and his friendship with wandering dervish, Shams of Tabriz.

The story took me to a place and time far from mine and I learned about a very different culture—yet in its philosophical concerns and themes, not so different after all. And I really loved that both Shams and Rumi were storytellers so that the novel had layers of nested stories.

Many years ago, a writer friend recommended Mrs. Caliban to me, without hinting about the plot or characters. “Just try it,” she said. “It’s so you.” She knew me well! I fell hard in love with this book that seemed like a wacky, comic, poetic collage of suburban reality, romance, and sci-fi thriller, with even a bit of horror thrown in.

The genius of Rachel Ingalls sneaks up on you until you’re totally verklempt over protagonist Dorothy’s fearless befriending of “Aquarius the Monsterman,” or, as she called him, “Larry.” A classic novella, and the perfect book for those moments you need to be mercifully transported from everyday life.

I really learnt a lot from this book! It is an important contribution to the debates about women’s labour, accumulation of capital, and extraction of resources from the global south.

It traces the social origins of the sexual division of labour, which Mies called 'housewifization' (not my favourite word, but it captures something about the way in which the term housewife hides women’s labour!). Layering this with the history of colonialism and the new international division of labour, Mies is able to locate the history of capitalism not only in the roots of colonialism but also in the gendered division of labour–capitalist patriarchy.

This is now a classic in feminist political economy literature.