88 Books Like Kindred

In school, I wasn’t fond of physics. Most of my education focused on the history of human civilization and culture. I rediscovered physics partly thanks to the books mentioned here—and the strangeness of quanta. My studies, exposure to Tao and Zen philosophies, and exploration of physics have given me a unique perspective and awareness: humanity is merely a tiny particle in the universe, neither central nor the king of all creation. Nothing new, of course—Buddha, Heraclitus, and Shakespeare all knew it well.

I’m an environmental journalist (BBC, The Guardian, The Sunday Times) and book author, based in the UK. My interest lies in the intersection between human health, the environment, and climate crisis: the actions we can take that not only reduce climate change for future generations but also improve biodiversity, health, and wellbeing right now. That led to me write my first book, Clearing The Air, about air pollution. And I’m now writing my second book, The Last Drop, looking at how climate change is affecting the world’s water cycle and our access to freshwater. My best books list below maybe misses out on some obvious choices (Naomi Klein, Rachel Carson, etc) in favour of more recent books and authors deserving of a wider audience. 

I’ve been teaching in higher education for two decades, and I can honestly say that introducing Carbon Literacy Training as an extra-curricular activity to students and staff, as well as to external stakeholders, to learn about climate solutions has been one of the best things I’ve done in my career. I’ve always had an interest in the environment and sustainability, but struggled with how to communicate. The books I’ve chosen have changed my perspectives and provided positive examples of how we can talk about this in a way that encourages hope and action as opposed to the prevailing doom and gloom or facts and stats that paralyse rather than mobilise.

I’m an environmental journalist (BBC, The Guardian, The Sunday Times) and book author, based in the UK. My interest lies in the intersection between human health, the environment, and climate crisis: the actions we can take that not only reduce climate change for future generations but also improve biodiversity, health, and wellbeing right now. That led to me write my first book, Clearing The Air, about air pollution. And I’m now writing my second book, The Last Drop, looking at how climate change is affecting the world’s water cycle and our access to freshwater. My best books list below maybe misses out on some obvious choices (Naomi Klein, Rachel Carson, etc) in favour of more recent books and authors deserving of a wider audience. 

I’m an environmental journalist (BBC, The Guardian, The Sunday Times) and book author, based in the UK. My interest lies in the intersection between human health, the environment, and climate crisis: the actions we can take that not only reduce climate change for future generations but also improve biodiversity, health, and wellbeing right now. That led to me write my first book, Clearing The Air, about air pollution. And I’m now writing my second book, The Last Drop, looking at how climate change is affecting the world’s water cycle and our access to freshwater. My best books list below maybe misses out on some obvious choices (Naomi Klein, Rachel Carson, etc) in favour of more recent books and authors deserving of a wider audience. 

Each of these novels, in their own way, forces us to confront the realities of war and power, showing how fragile humanity truly is. They’ve inspired me to reflect on how interconnected we are, especially regarding the scars of conflict. I am reminded of the John Donne poem that inspired Hemingway’s title, For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940)–which begins: “No man is an island, intire of its selfe; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the maine.”  War doesn’t just affect the soldiers: war has its hooks in us all.

After completing the first draft of Monday Rent Boy, I was taken aback to discover a common theme running through all of my books: a focus on children in adverse situations. A Secret Music. The Ghost Garden. And now Monday Rent Boy. What holds paramount importance for me… is tracing the trajectory of the injured child as he or she navigates the journey toward adulthood…And…what does that path look like… what are the factors that help a person rise versus the ones that crush another? The more urgent answer to the question of why write? I came to see that certain subjects need to be written. And hopefully, read. 

My name is Polly Schattel, and I’m a novelist, screenwriter, and film director. I wrote and directed the films Sinkhole, Alison, and Quiet River, and my written work includes The Occultists, Shadowdays, and the novella 8:59:29. I grew up loving fantasy—Tolkien, Moorcock, Zelazny—but phased out of it somewhat when I discovered writers like Raymond Carver, EL Doctorow, and Denis Johnson. Their books seemed more adult and more complex, not to mention the prose itself was absolutely transporting. In comparison, the fantasy I’d read often felt quite rushed and thin, with get-it-done prose. I drifted away from genre fiction a bit, but dove back to it with my first novel, the historical dark fantasy The Occultists.

I’m an unfocused history omnivore, a perpetual student of many disparate subjects, and a visual artist. My childhood dream was to become an archaeologist, but by the time I reached graduate school I‘d become incapable of committing to one specific epoch. I’ve explored ancient times on my own. The older I get, the farther back in time my interests reach. As another interest of mine is mythology, the first book on my list is the answer to this manqué archaeologist’s/mythologist’s prayer. I‘ve recently written and illustrated a story taking place around 15,000 years ago, involving the painted caves in Europe. I ascribe these powerful images to a Paleolithic spirituality which I deeply enjoyed “creating.”

I’m a New Zealand philosopher who’s written a lot about the human enhancement debate. Philosophers are well known for their willingness to defend unpopular conclusions against all critics. Sometimes they engage in what I call “philosophical shit-stirring". You may think that’s a profanity but it’s actually a technical term. I’ve advocated some deliberately unpopular shit-stirring conclusions in the past. One of these is liberal eugenics - the idea that you can turn an evil like eugenics into something good by prefacing it with the feel-good term “liberal”. These dialogues are the beginning of a philosophical stock-take on what we should or might become.