Books like On Friendship — picked by fans

This is the most readable philosophy book I know. Nietzsche wrote it in his brilliantly witty, epigrammatic style. Each episode is about a page long.

Concentrate on "Book Four." There, Nietzsche famously tells us that God is dead. Find out what he really means. (We criticize everything and can feel no true reverence.) Consequently, we seek convenience and flexibility over and over again. Stunningly, Nietzsche sets out four contrarian, incompatible good lives. (Philosophers have always sought to define one good life.)

If you read nothing else, read epigrams 290, 295, and 303: "The life of constant revision to perfect a style," "The life of short stories," "The life of brilliant improvisation," and "The risk-taking life." I use Nietzsche’s model of good lives to help business leaders restore their businesses and themselves.

This book is based on Hubert (Bert) Dreyfus’s famous undergraduate philosophy course at U. C. Berkeley, affectionately called “From Gods to God and Back.” Like me, Sean was Bert’s teaching assistant for the course. We all loved this course because it draws out of our Western literary traditions a form of spirituality that we believe is essential for good lives today.

The book begins by looking at the relationship between Athena and Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey. It’s a friendly mentoring relationship without any suffocating philosophical-theological pretensions such as omnipotence or omniscience. Later, we join St. Augustine as he tries to undermine (though unsuccessfully) the theological pretensions. The book ends with Melville’s polytheism in Moby Dick.

The book inspires us to look for “attainable felicities”: simple divine experiences without pretensions. 

I love this book because Albert Borgmann shows that focal practices are at the core of any good life today.

Consider the end-of-day, carefully prepared family meal: the parents and children together showing gratitude, reviewing the day, arguing over bits, and resolving those arguments. Such moments do not always work.

When they do, they give each participant a sharp identity. There’s no place the participants would rather be, no others they would prefer to be with, and nothing they would rather do. When it works really well, participants sense they will remember it forever. These moments are heaven on earth.

We can make huddles and resource trading meetings play the same role in business. Borgmann writes of the woes of technology first; the focal practice solution comes at the end. 

Michel Foucault spent the last years of his life in his plain-speaking public lectures, calling our attention to the ancient philosophers’ practices for mastering the self. I help leaders (and myself) with these practices of managing desires without trying to eliminate them.

In this book (1982-1983 lectures), Foucault focuses on the practice that guides my life: parrhesia, telling truth to power. From 400 BCE to 600 CE, parrhesia reigned in education. Foucault’s account of Plato’s subtle truth-telling to Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, is spellbinding. As thanks, Dionysius sold Plato into slavery. Telling the truth always carries a high moral risk. Truths cut across common sense.

Today’s mantra of radical candor—sharing views—avoids hard truths, produces agreeableness, and undermines good lives. This book wakes us up.

Although I read this book as a child, I only began to appreciate it when reading it again as an adult. The sheer beauty of the English prose makes it, I think, the best-written book ever, if only in terms of the mastery of words.

Some of the underlying themes are rewarding to explore, such as friendship, nature, the importance of home, and forgiveness, and the idea of a threat to a peaceful idyll from the encroachment of modernity now touches a chord, as does the message that people (or animals) with wealth and privilege have a choice over how they behave. 

Another brilliant gem of a book, Snappsy the Alligator is just trying to go about his day, but the annoying narrator of the book insists that he behave in certain ways. This book cleverly considers what the role of character is in a book and how the characters function in their story. Adults will appreciate the sophistication of the concept while younger readers will laugh hysterically at Snappsy’s attempts to be himself despite what the narrator thinks he should do.

The Giving Tree. Unconditional Love. Sacrificial Love.

I first read this when I was young. I was heartbroken for the tree and furious with the boy. In fact, I would cry on the inside as the tree became less. Not fully understanding that the tree was really becoming much more.

As I've matured, I've come to understand that more important than myself is a vision of love that is giving of myself, in a deep, meaningful way. 

To me, this book conveys that the heart of life is not possession, but devotion.

If I was hooked by the cover copy for Natalie Leif’s book, I was hooked by the first page of Sydney Langford’s. That page isn’t technically part of the novel; it’s a guide to American Sign Language, which is an important piece of the narrative and Sydney Langford’s life.

By the time I saw that page in an advanced copy, Sydney and I had become close friends, and her beautiful story of two disabled queer teens finding solace in each other truly resonated with me. We need more platonic love stories in the YA space, and this book is one I’ll never forget. 

I love this book, which combines a true story from the Civil War with gorgeous illustrations by the amazingly gifted author. Pink, who is white, and Say, who is Black, are two young Union soldiers, little more than boys…as my own great grandfather once was. Their survival depends upon their relationship, and the story, as retold by Polacco, reminds us—as all these books do—of our interdependence.

I rarely read a book twice, but this is one of the few that I’ve read multiple times because it is such a unique premise. The concept of people going from “ugly” to “pretty” on their sixteenth birthday (thanks, futuristic technology) is such an interesting one to dive into. 

Also, I love how the main character straddles both the world of the pretties and that of the uglies—not knowing where she belongs. As a third culture kid, and someone who frequently feels like a misfit, I really related to her.