11 Books Like Noopiming

While there has been some controversy about the science in Simard’s book, there’s no doubt that it’s a great read that juxtaposes Simard’s personal life with her scientific life.

I was drawn to her personal story, which takes place in both government and academic spheres. I cried with her when her brother passed away, and I was proud with her when her daughter said she might want to study forestry at university.

The mix of science and memoir works well in this book, showing how the two are inextricably entwined. I was impressed by how hard Simard worked to keep her family together, particularly when she was a professor at UBC in Vancouver, and they were living in Nelson.  

Alison Bechdel has always been there for her fans. Growing up queer in the 1980s? Not so fun, unless it is in a cartoon. Her "Dykes To Watch Out For" have given resilience to communities all over the rainbow world and Secret to Superhuman Strength is what we need for an outlook to successful - or maybe not so successful - ageing. Getting old has so far seldomly been discussed for queer people, there are few role models and even fewer prescriptions. This is a good one! The drawings are beautiful as always. This is my favorite of Bechdel's memoirs.

Our elders are maps to our history and lands. My grandmother taught me how to navigate America with grit and care and inspired my work in community.

This book narrates how to learn by honoring our ancestors, using the example of the Anishinaabeg tribes in Canada: how to draw maps and re-envision the world from the perspective of people without PhDs but who hold centuries of knowledge.

As an academic, I was taught that people outside of the university were sources of data that we could use to generate theory. I had to learn that everyday people hold powerful theories of the world that PhDs would do well to honor and uplift, especially if we want our knowledge to make the world a better place.

When was the last time you asked an elder the history of where you live and come from: the good, the bad, and the uncomfortable?

This book helped me release shame after a colleague of mine told me my work wasn’t “science.”

Here’s the truth: to create a healing platform, I needed to tap into ways of thinking that academia sees as “woo woo” and “savage.” I looked to the stars. I meditated. I did rituals and read myths.

Dr. Kimmerer, trained as a traditional botanist, realized that the Indigenous myths and stories she was told as a child contained scientific knowledge passed down for generations by her tribe.

She realized there were scientific truths her community knew for millennia that traditional scientists only discovered within the last 100 years. This is the power of Ancestral Intelligence, disregarded by the same science that ultimately created AI.

What stories, fables, and myths have taught you valuable lessons about the world?

I have never read a novel so close to prophecy.

Published in 1995, Parable starts in July 2024 amidst the election of an autocrat who, by the sequel Parable of the Talents, literally pledges to “make America great again.” I started my platform in 2015 in the same context.

This novel pulled me into its harrowing tale of how to survive civilizational collapse: the dismantling of systems, norms, and climate change that we are all currently going through.

The lesson is ultimately about embracing change, caring for and trusting each other in community, and coming up with our own ways of being together. So many of our ancestors have survived periods of collapse by the same principles. These ancestral lessons still guide me, and I believe are critical to surviving AI dystopia.

Life Beside Itself is a startling book not only because of what it reveals about the history of settler-colonial government care imposed upon Arctic communities during the tuberculosis crisis (1940-60s) and the suicide crisis (1980s onwards) but for the raw emotional proximity that it provides to the individuals whose lives were changed by policies that, ironically, were derived from care itself.

It is a well-researched book that unnerved me with the haunting emotional intimacies its ethnographic and imagistic approach brought through the pages. The intractable longing of a young man waiting each year at the harbour for the ship, the C.D. Howe, that took his grandmother away to a southern hospital is just one of the things in this book that wounds its readers by recounting different forms of care.

I loved that Hamilton’s unpacking of the etymology of security led right to the notion of care.

This book had a shaping impact on how I think about care and its ties to security – a relation that continues to animate my interests. I learned that my cares (affections, attachments, worries) may mobilize me to enhance my security, which also may be done inadvertently at the expense of someone else’s. To put it another way, when we seek security, we are seeking to let go of our cares or to care less.

Security attends to the “inflated focus” on security as an instrument of control in contemporary cultural life and does so richly, drawing upon cultural forms such as fables, literature, and art in a beautiful and provocative text.

This book challenged my thinking about the implications of compassion taking a decisive role in policy.

Not undermining the import of compassion or empathy, it reveals how these moral sentiments are taking precedence over formal rights in decisions about asylum for refugees, aid, access to health or mental health care, and even justifying a military action.

Under the emergent logic of humanitarian reason, structural inequities and violence are easily rendered invisible as the most poignantly shaped public narratives of suffering gain sway over historical conditions of structural injustice and dominance. Fassin draws upon fieldwork in South Africa, Venezuela, Palestine, and Iraq, as well as policy in France, showing how the logic of humanitarian reason can abandon those who are positioned in the most precarious conditions.

Starting with the public claim that Canadian society exhibits social indifference to the racialized and gendered violence connected to murdered and missing Indigenous women and girls, Granzow interrogates the presumed absence suggested the word indifference, showing that it hides something present and active: a social investment and authorization of this violence as part of the maintenance of the settler-colonial state.

Looking at the city of Edmonton historically, ways that this investment – or commitment – has materialized are elaborated, including a policing initiative (Project Kare) that collects demographic information on individuals expected to be subject to (colonial) violence and the former Charles Camsell Hospital that incarcerated Indigenous peoples from where many disappeared. This impacted my thinking on the contradictions inherent to the notion of care and the place I call home.

I never thought of my mama giving me Vicks VapoRub when I had a cold or keeping Aunt Jemima’s maple syrup on the table as forms of ancestral intelligence until I read this book.

After reading about Indigenous science, I desperately sought wisdom born from my own African/Caribbean American lineage. This book taught me that many of the healing recipes and stories we get from our mothers and grandmothers contain real scientific wisdom. Most of these are passed down orally, something that every chatbot misses.

I learned that so many things already embedded in my life are intelligent, even magical. The ways Black women have survived is magic, and, being raised by Black women, I have been given the gift of conjuring new healing modalities.

What have you learned from the women in your life about how to thrive?