7 Books Like The Bear

It wasn’t until reading this book that I realized how important it was to focus on the fast, instinctive part of our mind. Getting that initial judgment and reaction right makes everything else easier. Too often, I found myself wanting to understand things logically and rationally, assuming that my instincts and emotions were simply wrong.

This book helped me understand how useful both systems were and how to leverage them to achieve my goals faster and more effectively.

I have read the Iliad in other translations. Until now, I thought the standard to beat was the one by Richmond Lattimore. But Robert Fagles's version is far and away the best translation I've ever encountered. Fagles has avoided making Homer sound like a Victorian sage or a twenty-first century hipster---he has given him a distinctive voice, not quite modern. And, almost as important, he has avoided making Homer sound like a lyric poet, which he is most certainly not. The battle scenes are as direct, gruesome, and matter-of-fact as they are in the original text. His Achilles comes through as a great warrior and petty human being, and his rage is terrifying, though in the end (as they always do) the gods laugh at him. His Paris is indeed the sniveler that Home meant him to be. His Hector is almost noble, or as close to it as people… show more.

As someone who studied history and who loves color, this book is the perfect hybrid of color with depth! Not only are there several unique shades of colors (it goes way beyond ROYGBIV), but the origins and historical context of them were fascinating!

It really helped me learn so much more about color. The biggest takeaway is that while sometimes people tend to view color as something for children, this proves historically how great of an impact it has on humans.

I had never really given much thought to counting until I read this book, but in the very first chapter, Stone made me rethink everything I thought I knew about “one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.” She shows that every time we count, we’re making cultural assumptions. For example, what counts as a fish? And what makes the color of the fish more relevant than other features? Counting reveals that while these choices may seem intuitive, basic, and meaningless, they have very real impacts on people’s lives. Especially when we use numbers to measure things like merit, poverty, race, and productivity, those fundamental assumptions matter more than we care to admit.  

This is cultural history with a difference and of a difference. It teaches you a lot about the reputation for fashionable culture that France enjoyed for centuries all over the world and continues to enjoy to this day. How much of all that is already packed into the book’s subtitle! The rest of the book is just as accessible and lively and unwilling ever to take itself too seriously. 

The French historian Michel Pastoureau is the master of finding topics you never knew could have a history. His research spans from the history of blue to the history of the bear, and everything he writes makes you see the world with new eyes. One of my favorites is this slim volume about the history of stripes. Pastoureau explains why stripes were associated with the devil in the Middle Ages, why sailors and swimmers took to stripes, and why cultural preferences have shifted from horizontal stripes to vertical stripes and back again. He convincingly shows that the history of the stripe is really a history of the impulse to contain social groups and people.

A sensual cultural history mixed with economic history, specifically the rise of capitalism, Schivelbusch launches an interesting argument—that one particular substance, or taste, has often defined the zeitgeist of whole nations for definitive periods. This book is wide-ranging and general in its treatment of alcohol, as well as several other drinks and spices. There are excellent imaginative connections made, and the book invites thinkers to think deeply and broadly about the meaning of intoxicants in history and in their own lives.