16 Books Like Psych

One of the things access to the internet and social media has done is that we increasingly only see what we are exposed to. Therefore, people "doing their own research" often end up wandering into rabbit holes of misinformation. How does one differentiate fact from fiction, when AI is only going to make things worse? In a world where anyone can call themselves an expert, Bergstrom teaches us critical thinking and how we can understand that big data is not always correct, but can lead to false conclusions.

This is NOT yet another diatribe against "wokeness." It is, instead, a thoughtful, nuanced analysis of the intellectual foundations of what the author calls "the identity synthesis" (and others call "identity politics," or other names). Not only is it fascinating in its own right; it is also a model of the nearly-lost art of intellectual critique. It is clear where Mounk's sympathies lie, but he is does his best to present his opponents' views in the most respectful, dispassionate way possible, before he points out the limitations and contradictions of their thinking. Readers who enjoyed this book should also enjoy Mounk's podcast and blog.

Paul Bloom wants to persuade the reader to be against empathy, as he is, because morally we’re better off without empathy.

He is right, and I see his argument as similar to the argument made by Sugden, although its structure is very different. Bloome, rightly, says that we cannot rely on empathy to be moral – we need something more and something more tangible.

That something might be rationality, although Bloome himself prefers to speak of reason. Moral theories have for too long relied on unstable ground: empathy and moral character.

If we care about morality, we must ground it on more solid ground.

This book gave me a profound realization: humans aren’t rational decision-makers—we’re copiers. We survive by inheriting “packages of expertise” passed down through generations, but over time, those packages lose their rationale. When circumstances change, blindly following tradition can become a liability.

My work is about helping people use AI, data, and collaboration to think through the consequences of their actions. This book explains why that’s so difficult—reasoning isn’t what got us here. We memorize and repeat what worked before, even when the world shifts beneath us.

In an increasingly volatile world, that strategy is failing, and this book makes it clear why new approaches to decision-making are needed. If you’ve ever wondered why people resist logic and innovation, this book will change how you see human behavior.

Why do we cooperate? To a highly cooperative species like ourselves, it might seem obvious that we do, but from a rational perspective, individuals benefit more from pursuing their own narrow interests. To answer this question, this book takes a step back, or rather a few million steps, evolutionarily speaking. From the level of the cell to that of complex societies, it examines cooperation as a driving force in nature, allowing us to see ourselves as part of a much bigger story.

This book relates to a lot of what I’ve learned in my own research about rituals. Contrary to conventional wisdom, it argues that we humans are not hedonists by nature. Yes, we desire comfort and we pursue all kinds of pleasures. But we also often embrace struggle, effort, and even fear and pain, and those are in fact the things that make our lives truly meaningful. From watching horror films and climbing mountains to raising children and performing painful rituals, Paul Bloom argues that, in the right context, suffering can be part of a life well-lived.

This is an engaging but serious exploration of the role of alcohol in human history. Slingerland’s main argument is that alcohol encourages both community and creativity.

In particular, it can encourage trust if people are more likely to say what they truly believe when intoxicated. I am skeptical of a strong link to creativity, but many other arguments in the book persuaded me. Slingerland makes a good case that alcohol was a/the key reason that humans developed agriculture.

Importantly, Slingerland recognizes that the earliest beers and wines were not as strong as today; he treats alcoholism as a modern scourge.

If we could just teach about the evils of climate change, people would surely change their behaviors.

I knew this idea was not born up by the facts and was searching for an alternative. This book showed me that if I wanted to get people to eat climate-friendly foods or become a climate advocate, I needed to think about social connections—in particular, what people see their friends and family doing.

Not only do the authors describe how we influence each other’s health, voting, and even happiness—they also argue that social networks provide a middle ground between individual destiny vs structural determinism.

In my work, Network Climate Action is similarly a middle ground between individual behavior change vs government policy in addressing the climate crisis. 

This book is a collection of essays with an almost palpable heartbeat, which is exactly the sort of book I consider mandatory reading.

I found myself leveled by the depth and volume of insights on every page, about what it means to really see and care for one another, to withstand pain ourselves, and to witness it in the world.

I experienced so many moments of recognition, reading an articulation of a human truth I’d perhaps known or felt on a subconscious level but never formed into thought or heard expressed quite so beautifully. It’s as if Leslie Jamison lives at a different emotional frequency, paying attention to the world and distilling what’s important.

One piece of advice: don’t tackle this one intending to make notes in the margins because pretty much every sentence is worth coming back to.

Yes, I know, this book has a long, very academic title. But it’s actually very short and clearly-written, explaining both to professionals and to laypeople why empathy is essential to writing good history. Kohut is a distinguished historian of modern Germany, who also has psychoanalytic training, and he makes a convincing case that we can properly understand even such horrific events as the Wannsee conference (which instituted the Nazis’ “final solution” to the problem of the Jews) only if we enter into the perspective of the people who attended it. This is an eye-opening book on an extremely important topic.