Books like The Anthropocene Reviewed

Jonas is our youngest protagonist on the list. He is destined to be the receiver of memories in a futuristic utopian society. Those memories are to be passed down to him by an old man, the Giver.

Jonas lives in a society where people are innocent—innocent of emotion, pain, and suffering. He must lose his innocence to experience the joys and pains of humane experience. 

That’s a heavy responsibility. And it’s Jonas’ thoughtfulness and curiosity that draws me to him. He faces difficult ethical choices. His awakening is unique to the fictional world he inhabits, but it is universal in theme. His quest to gain knowledge, his willingness to question authority to get to the truth, and his ability to make tough choices to experience the depth of what it means to be human make him someone I would want in my corner. 

Friendly tip: I do not recommend reading this novel while isolated from your family due to travel and illness, because this book hits hard in all the right ways.

It invites both the protagonist and the reader to explore the deepest wells of regret and the branching infinities that our life choices produce. In doing so, the novel beautifully confronts the seductive lure of “what could have been” while reminding us of the quiet beauty in what is.

As someone whose mind is often lost in the past or gazing into the future, this ultimate lesson of the book provided a much-needed sense of clarity.

The question at the heart of Scythe fascinated me: if humanity could eliminate natural death, disease, scarcity, and much of the suffering that has always shaped human existence, what would happen to us?

The book suggests that our problems would not simply disappear. Power, inequality, bureaucracy, and moral conflict would relocate themselves into new forms. The scythes themselves are forced to make an almost impossible decision: who should die when nature no longer makes that decision for us?

Beneath the science fiction premise is a deeply human question about power and morality. Changing the circumstances of humanity does not necessarily change human nature.

Since Capsule was actually written by a teenager, anyone from Generation Z will be able to relate to this gut-wrenching tale about friendships and memories better left forgotten. Each character is both unique and human, and the writing makes you stare into space in awe. This novel throws difficult-to-swallow truths at the reader, and leaves them without oxygen with a fantastic ending. For anyone who has struggled, this book is for you.

I've read a lot of anthropology and had my own experience in the Field.

I was impressed that Mead had the courage to share these letters that were intimate and which resonated with me as very real experiences. I appreciate how vividly she captures the blend of intellectual curiosity, persistence, and personal growth that comes from living in another culture.

The book reinforced that science is not only about data—it is also about the people, experiences, and relationships that shape our understanding of the world and bring nuance to science. Mead’s letters paved the road for me to share my letters and the courage to show my vulnerability and naiveté.

Drawing on contemporary cultural politics from Western Europe, Canada, and the United States, Benhabib understands cultures as continually creating, re-creating, and renegotiating the imagined boundaries between "us" and "them." She defends the creation and expansion of deliberative discursive multicultural spaces in liberal democracies, arguing that a legal pluralist model can be a good complement to deliberative and discursive democratic multiculturalism. In her insightful study, Benhabib contends that the Rawlsian model of public reason and the deliberative model of democracy share certain fundamental premises. Both view the legitimation of political power in the examination of the justice of institutions to be a public process, open to all citizens. The idea that justice should be in the public eye, open to scrutiny, examination, and reflection is fundamental.

The first “how to” business book, and what surprised me about it was how, for Cotrugli, being a good merchant was as much about being morally upright as about being profitable.

He spends as much time telling merchants how to pray as he does how to handle their ledgers (the book is historically famous for being the first European work to explain double-entry bookkeeping).

What I found fascinating about this book is how modern Cotrguli sounds; maybe it’s the work of the translators, but he comes across as somebody you could talk to today. And he is impassioned with his main preoccupation: how to both pursue material wealth and still be a good person. He’s trying to walk a line between greed and God, and that still matters today.

I was extremely lucky to conduct my PhD research on Tokaido road in the 1990s. Books by scholars of Japanese Studies like Marily Ivy were extremely influential and opened my eyes to aspects that would not have been visible to me otherwise. 

The Discourses of the Vanishing was one such book that dispelled deeply rooted myths of Japan, especially the belief that Japan is a fully modernized country, that Japanese society is monolithic, and that Japan’s most noteworthy locales are its highly urbanized areas. What brought me to the book was Ivy’s examination of the Exotic Japan campaign of Japan’s railways in the late 1980s. This campaign was woven with powerful notions of furusato (nostalgia for one’s native place), neo-Japonesque exoticism, and other imaginary references of post-bubble Japan meant to appeal to women as new targets of Japan’s consumption campaigns.

Across the book’s six chapters, Ivy also takes us to… show more.

Some people are sticklers for following norms and conventions, while others take a more relaxed approach. The same goes for entire cultures, which vary on a continuum from very tight (think Singapore or the military) to very loose (think Amsterdam or hippy communes). This book brings together a wealth of experimental data showing that societal norms tighten or loosen in response to perceptions of threat.

Even though the specific nature of those threats inevitably varies and the cultural systems of the scores of societies in which Gelfand has gathered data are diverse, the same underlying patterns are discernible everywhere. Gelfand’s work explores the profound ramifications of this discovery both for our understanding of history and of the world we live in today. 

My parents were born in India and migrated to the US. Postcolonial thinkers have helped me understand how imperial history continues to shape contemporary identities, not only in Britain but for those of us located all over the world whose family histories are intertwined with it.

More than anyone else, Stuart Hall has made the relationship between the imperial past and the present visible. In this collection of essays, Hall examines identity, showing how our understandings of ourselves are not absolute and intrinsic but shaped by history and politics.

Hall gives us the tools to locate ourselves in history, rethink our identity and relation to community, and contest dominant structures of race and power.