100 Books Like I Hate the Internet

First published in 1959, Naked Lunch was shocking then, and it still retains its power today. Both in content and structure, Naked Lunch is powerful and wholly original.  In effect, it becomes more than a work of fiction, it becomes an experience. Burroughs invented a technique called the “cut-up method,” where he cut up his coherent storyline into paragraphs, scenes, and even sentences, then reordered them both randomly and editorially. The disorder thematically represents the chaos of existence and the universe, and it also disrupts the reader. Like the book or not, it shakes you into realizing that there are possibilities beyond the conventional.

Burrough’s language is honed to a razor’s edge, and I find that many of the sentences in Naked Lunch burn like fire. The meaning of the title as Burroughs explains it is to bare the naked truth of reality on the end of a fork. From… show more.

Grossman achieves something remarkable in The Alphabet Man. The work manages to weave together visual, avant-garde graphic design, literary poetry, and a suspenseful thrilling plot. The book itself is gorgeous to look at it, and the text layout is designed as a work of art. Grossman seamlessly blends these disparate elements into a unified, unique creation that breaks the boundaries of what a novel can be. 

In the summer of 1968, I was 20 and spent the summer pretty much banally in Israel and Europe. Around me, the world was on fire, but I was inside my own head.

Eventually, I washed up in Dublin, where I walked in a cold rain to Dorset Street, there to recreate Leopold Bloom’s pork kidney purchase from Dlugacz, the butcher. There was no Dlugacz on Dorset, but there was another butcher who stuffed into stiff pink butcher paper something that glistened and oozed. My plan was to fry it up, as Leopold had, on the hotplate in my rented room. It did not go well. I was felled intestinally in dramatic fashion; pity there was no one to observe. 

Somehow, in my travels, I had obtained a copy of At Swim Two-Birds, and now, my insides recreating The Troubles, I wanly reached for it and read the first paragraph:… show more.

Locos is charming and cruel, tragic and hilarious, ambiguous yet direct, and written with clear, poetic prose. The experimental style on display never overwhelms the narrative. Despite the fact that Alfau directly declares the fictive nature of his characters, he made me care about them. The book contains a series of interconnected short stories with characters reappearing throughout and even when they are not featured, a brief mention may act as a dramatic revelation that changes significantly what you read before. And further, some of the characters seem to metamorphosize and serve different roles in subsequent stories.

The entirety manages to hold together as more of a novel than a collection partly thanks to the overlapping characters, partly through the consistent tone and style, and partly because Alfau is always in the background or making appearances as "the author." Some of the stories are quite hilarious, while some are devastating.… show more.

Kara Swisher has spent decades writing about and reporting on the tech kings of the world, including Elon Musk, Bill Gates, and others. Her insights into the rise of tech giants from the early 1990s to the present illuminate the forces that have shaped our world

I loved Swisher’s insight into these powerful men. She’s blunt, funny, and direct in how she exposes their flaws, and the book feels like it’s written by someone who understands and is fed up with these white, controlling male demigods of tech. I imagine the book’s title refers to how she’s burning all bridges by telling all.

As a journalist who was raised pre-internet, I could deeply relate to Swisher’s outrage in lines such as “What struck me was how easily people could be manipulated by fear and rage, and how facts could be destroyed without repercussions.”

For me, intelligence is the ability to change one’s mind, given new information and reasoned insight. This book changed my mind profoundly by challenging me to reexamine Western cultural dogmas about my place in the world, the unnatural life I was encouraged to build in pursuit of material convenience and luxury, and how the fantasy of material “progress” robbed me of the simple magic that is ever-present.

I know a book is particularly good when I have repeatedly taken it from my bookshelf over the years.

I’m a skier as well as a hiker. This book appeals to both of these outdoor loves, but it goes much deeper.

This is a true story about a small band of Norwegians who ski and hike across the Norwegian wilderness, and nearly freeze to death and starve doing it. Their mission is to sabotage a remote, heavily guarded power plant, where the Nazis are developing heavy water for a nuclear bomb.

In addition to the perils that nature throws at them, these resourceful members of the local resistance must also evade their Gestapo hunters at every snowdrift. It’s a low-odds, high-risk adventure that altered the outcome of World War II.

It’s also engulfed me like the blizzards of the Norwegian winter and taught me how ingenuity, perseverance, and grit are the keys to survival when the odds are overwhelming.

First published in 1958, this is one of Hannah Arendt’s most influential books and in it she attempts to define the human condition in the aftermath of World War II, developing her concept “natality.” 

It’s a challenging book that I’ve wrestled with and argued with and never forgotten. It includes some of her most powerful and frequently cited passages about birth. Lately, I’ve been returning to its opening pages, in which she discusses the launch of Sputnik into space. 

She saw this launch not as an exciting technological breakthrough, but as a fateful repudiation of our earthly existence, an existence that was defined by birth with possibilities and limitations.

I loved this book first and foremost for the completeness of the research done including supplemental materials such as sketches, artwork, etc.

How he was able to gather so much information about the roamings, seemingly on a daily basis, of a man that lived 500 years ago is beyond me. I also thought the choice of Alfred Molina to narrate was brilliant as his Italian phrasing and enunciation made all the difference in the world.

In the end, I felt I knew da Vinci on a personal level, which surprised me.

Pollan approached the exploration of psychedelics with rigorous journalism, history, and neuroscience, but with deeply human storytelling.

It resonated with me and pushed me in the direction of experiencing psychedelics for my own growth. Pollan approaches a controversial subject with intellectual humility and curiosity while never losing sight of the personal and cultural implications. It helped me reconsider long-held assumptions about the mind, healing, and what it means to be open to change.