100 Books Like In the Country of Last Things

Working between cultures, as I do, I have been reading the Sinologist François Jullien for many years. I like how he traces the passage of an idea across cultures as they reveal tensions between the same and the different. The question Jullien poses with this book is, “Are universal values possible,” especially between the East and the West?

Although a common concept may exist, this does not mean a common meaning does. In my experience, we all communicate constantly, oscillating between understanding and misunderstanding, which is more so when cultural differences occur.

The once-read, never forgotten Wittgenstein statement: ‘The limits of my language mean the limits of my world,’ ever resonates–I believe language mediates all sensory experience, but often inadequately.

In what I do and how I feel, I cannot avoid confronting the times we all live, called the “end times.” What they name is the end of an epoch of total planetary domination by Homo sapiens.

A moment of nemesis has arrived. What has been discovered, if unevenly, is that our collective world-making has revealed itself to be an unmaking. The history and the future of climate change, literally and metaphorically, stand for this moment.

The Brazilian anthropologists Deborah and Eduardo Viveiros de Castro powerfully capture not just the causes of this planetary crisis but, in my view, present ways of thinking and working toward affirmative futures.

Two important messages underscoring this fascinating anarchist history of Southeast Asia's uplands are coming from the past and arriving from an uncertain future. The first message began 12,000 years ago when human settlements were established.

Slowly, friction emerged between lowlands people, who settled and started to acquire property, and nomadic people of the highlands. The more settlements developed, the more nomads were deemed a threat and destroyed. These conflicts are elemental to the history of war.

The current data on climate impacts I’ve read indicate that a significant percentage of the global population will be displaced in the coming decades. By becoming nomadic, they will again be deemed a threat to urban dwellers–hence the message: there’s another danger of war to avoid!

For me, Bernard Stiegler was one of the most influential thinkers of technology of the modern age. I like books that bring my own thinking into question. His book does this for me by providing an interesting and unfamiliar way of understanding the relation between technology and consumerism.

He describes consumerism as damaging our psychic sphere and destroying our desires–replacing them with ones formed and met by marketed commodities. What I found insightful was how he showed “reason” being transformed by philosophy into an object of faith.

The result: reason now travels with the unreason of an unchecked rationalization of power of technological creation, but with little sense of the consequences, over time, of what has been created (think AI!).

I’m just a sucker for books where characters who don’t seem to have power or agency within their society wind up sneakily subverting power for their own ends while letting the “power-hungry” think they are in charge.

In this case, women once again have figured out a way to get what they want and essentially take down patriarchy (in a dystopian setting) without using the tools of the aggressor. It’s a surprising, potent, and beautiful book (though there are some outdated concepts/ideologies, given that it was published in 1988).

I enjoyed this series because it was a well-written, fast-paced, interesting, clean story that I was happy to share with my children (especially my daughters). Each of the four books follows the perspective of one of the four main characters, and all of these girls are strong, loyal, and have a clear sense of right and wrong. They are not ashamed to be “good,” which is a refreshing find in dystopian futures!

I found this book realistic in a really frightening way. The entire societal structure of the world depends on the stories we humans tell ourselves about ‘us’ and ‘them,’ and I think the book plays with this very cleverly.

It has a very tender depiction of what happens to us and our stories when we’re all alone, and I still think about the way generational guilt is woven through the story.

It was one of those books where I kept walking up to my wife to say, “Can I read you something?” and, “Listen to this…” because the ideas are so big, but the language is so clipped and to the point. 

Emma Ellis spins the most horrifying yet hope-filled stories of dystopian societies. In book one of the Eyes Forward series, the world is in a population crisis. Resources are heavily rationed, and the governments of the world are actively taking steps to curb population growth.

That’s when Mae gets pregnant and learns she must find a “life donor”—someone who agrees to die so that the baby may live—or abort her unborn child. I appreciated how Ellis threaded the horror of a forced abortion into a gripping tale of human resilience in the face of overwhelming odds.

The plot twists and turns kept me on the edge of my seat, yet the message of the book made me think about how we steward our natural resources. This book is perfect for Octavia Butler, 1984, and Brave New World fans.

This one’s actually the middle book of Attwood’s Maddaddam trilogy, which deals with the results of “the waterless flood,” a viral pandemic which has wiped out most of civilisation.

The Year of the Flood focuses on the lower classes, which again interests me in terms of the effect on “ordinary” people. There’s a dystopian element here, as Attwood explores the religious sect in which the protagonists find themselves.

I discovered this book in 1985, reading and re-reading the book during high school and, eventually, buying the worn-out copy from the library before graduation.

While it may seem to be a dystopian story – it takes place after a nuclear-biological armageddon, after all – it’s an early example of hopepunk. Candy Smith-Foster repeatedly puts the good of others, including her macaw, Terry (short for Terry Dactyl), ahead of her own welfare. Not bad for a preteen facing the destruction of all she knew.

How much of an impact did this have on me? One of the reasons Kendra’s name starts as Foster-Briggs is to honor Palmer’s masterwork.