Books like Magicians of the Gods

I’ve always enjoyed reading true stories of how people survive some of the most abominable situations.

After reading Endurance, I strive to be like Shackleton under pressure. Here’s a man that not only leads by example, but who refuses to quit when all hope is lost.

In Endurance, Shackleton had one purpose that was much bigger than himself. It was to bring every man home alive from a journey that should have ended in the complete annihilation of his crew. When he finally hears the tolling of the bell on the island, tears filled my eyes. 

Shackleton shows what happens when a man’s purpose becomes bigger than himself. It reminds me that the strongest kind of inner change often occurs when responsibility outweighs fear. A story every person should read.

A deserved, all-time classic, this book seems to transcend time to capture the spirit of wanderlust. I was young and impressionable when I read it for the first time, and it inspired a sense of profound restlessness to explore, grow, and hit the road to see for myself. 

Neal Cassidy and Jack Kerouac are wild, occasionally unhinged protagonists, and their journey consists of hustling, romance, and drinking their way to a good time. Kerouac’s writing made me long for similar misadventures, where life is simple and finding the road is all that matters. Subversively, the novel promotes a full life and whole human experience, which makes working 9 to 5 that much more difficult.

Tom Robbins is my favorite writer, and I return to his books again and again.

He once wrote that clocks no more contain time than books contain reality, which comes very close to how I think about both time and fiction. He was smart, funny, loyal to no genre but his own voice, and in a way practiced what he preached, still writing as if he were thirty even in his nineties.

Jitterbug Perfume is Robbins at full strength: playful, sensual, philosophical, and gloriously unwilling to stay in one time period, one tone, or even one sense. The jacket captures that perfectly: it begins in the forests of ancient Bohemia and does not conclude until nine o'clock tonight, Paris time. I love that sense of centuries collapsing into one immediate moment.

Mass tourism is a funny world, and occasionally it deserves to be skewered with a wink and a smile. This tongue-in-cheek satire is so sharp I continue to cut my fingers on its pages, instantly recognizing the absurdity of some of my own adventures in Eastern and Central Europe.

This Spinal Tap for guidebooks looks at fictional hotels, towns, food, and activities. There are also follow-up guidebooks, one that roasts a mythical Southeast Asian country in a similar fashion and another that pokes fun at a fictional yet familiar country in Latin America.

Veteran travellers, and especially backpackers, will have a riot. 

In the late 1990s when this book was published, it seems no scientist had ever given serious thought to the consequences for human evolution of the submergence of Sundaland in the aftermath of the last ice age. There is compelling scientific evidence, compiled and analyzed here in compendious detail, that Sundaland was a heartland of human innovation and that its drowning may have led to the spread of rice agriculture, pottery making, and even tales of lands being ‘fished up’ (as by the Pacific demigod Maui). An astonishing read that today I still regard as largely credible.  

Graham Hancock's book has inspired me to learn more about mysterious places like Stonehenge and Machu Pichu.

Graham is a former newspaper reporter, which is evident when reading his works. He goes to the site and gives you a report on what he saw and learned about the place. He includes history, native beliefs, and mainstream archaeological theory to help the reader develop a clear understanding of the mystery and the differing viewpoints about the mystery.

I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in mysterious places. 

Tainter makes a powerful and almost irrefutable case for complexity as the key to understanding both the rise and the fall of civilizations. In essence, complexity builds and builds until it is no longer manageable, so collapse ensues. That Tainter does not sufficiently appreciate the role that ecological limits, physical constraints, moral decline, and practical bungling can also play in the process does not detract from the power and utility of his argument. For these latter factors, see my own Immoderate Greatness.

I read this book a long time ago and went back to it again as it is so revolutionary and quite startling for its time (1968). His theories were often laughed at, but he has been hugely vindicated by later discoveries. I think he was a very brave man to write this book, addressing one of the greatest mysteries of all—how we became civilized.

He must have known he would be vilified for producing such a book, but he did it anyway and in doing so unleashed a torrent of unconventional archaeologists and explorers of the past. So much has changed since this book came out, but it is still a seminal work that, IMO, should be read by anyone interested in the ancient past and the evolution from simple farmers into advanced societies.

This is probably the weirdest book I ever read. Certainly, the weirdest sciencey book.

It’s a dialogue between a palaeontologist and a novelist. The scientist, Arsuaga, sets up little excursions and events for Millás and himself around Madrid, and Millás writes about them. Each excursion illustrates some point about human evolution and behaviour.

As their relationship deepens, so do the tensions, as the scientist and the novelist don’t always see eye to eye. Arsuaga seems to delight in tormenting Millás by dragging him to places where he doesn’t initially get the point: pickup joints, childcare centres, and trains. They both love eating and drinking (so do I), and much of the discussion takes place over extended lunches. Sometimes, the food itself explains a point.

I loved it. Couldn’t put it down.

“Collapse” is a term frequently bandied about in the press and popular as well as academic historical writing. Middleton’s book, well-informed by the palaeoenvironmental, archaeological, and documentary evidence shines a powerful light on some of the pervasive myths about supposed historical collapses, many of which were not at all what the term might suggest. He challenges us to think carefully and critically about what we really know about a past civilisation before we rush into easy judgements. His book made me rethink many of my own assumptions on the subject and undoubtedly influenced my own work.