66 Books Like The Naming of the Shrew

I love this series of three short novels enough to have read it more times than I can count. The language of the novel is simple and evocative. I love the main character, a young wizard who starts out as proud, angry and arrogant, but becomes deeply compassionate when his hubris leads him to make a tragic and evil use of magic.

I could feel myself grabbed by the world of the novel, a world of men and dragons, of islands dotted in an endless sea, of powerful mages who interfere at their peril with the precarious balance of the world between good and evil. 

I loved the Alice books as a child and even more as an adult. As a child, I loved their absurdist humor; the situations Alice gets into are ridiculous, and the ways she gets out are even more so. As an adult, I love that the absurdist humor asks really interesting questions about language and naming and self, our ideas of time and space, and social conventions and who’s in charge of them.

All this with hilariously eccentric characters and nonsense poetry that isn’t quite nonsense! To top it off, reading Alice as an adult is a trip because so many books, movies, songs, and other creative pieces have referenced events or language from the Alice books. What fun!

This book delighted me because it’s packed with the backstories behind the names of birds—and those stories feature surprising historical anecdotes, quirky characters, and more. Did I say “quirky”? The namesake for Leach’s storm petrel was so far past “quirky” that you can’t even see it in the rear-view mirror.

I enjoyed thinking about early naturalists trying to fit strange birds from strange lands into what was familiar from home (hence, North American and Australian “robins.”). I learned about bird names that are onomatopoetic (“rook”), based on folklore (“goatsucker”), unexpectedly descriptive (“swallow”), and, of course, eponymous (the titular “Mrs. Moreau’s warbler.”). The writing is graceful, and the book design is lovely. What a treat! 

I love Bill Bryson’s dry and wry sense of humor, his sharp eye for the preposterous, and his fascination with detail. In his better-known books, it’s travel, but this fits my fascination with language and naming because it tells the story of English.

Well, stories of English, anyway—it’s not a scholarly history (which I’d also enjoy) but more a collection of anecdotes to illustrate some of the quirks of the language. It’s fun and easy reading, and some things piqued my curiosity enough that I dug in further with more authoritative books. 

This book revolves around the term “umwelt,” which refers (in biology) to a creature’s sense of the world around it based on the information that it can perceive; while reading this book, I found my own personal understanding of the way we, as humans, see and categorize our surroundings grow and deepen.

I loved learning and thinking about eons of humans being independently and collectively stumped about the origins of some species and yet often all coming to a similar way of organizing the world around us. The natural world has unfolded in beautiful and bizarre ways, and I enjoy knowing how we came to a (mostly) shared understanding of the winding path to get here.    

People need less Dawkins in their lives and more Lewontin, whose thought-provoking, accessible writing about evolutionary biology stands in fierce opposition to the trend toward genetic determinism that seems to be the rage nowadays. We are not simply our genes, Lewontin says, because the effects DNA has on our lives are mediated by social and environmental factors, many of which we can influence. While it’s nominally about biology, I also read this as a critique of causal inference, generally. What we consider a “cause” reveals our ideological commitments to certain aspects of the world being maintained, and we should be careful what causal lessons we draw from data.

This book is an engaging treatment of philosophical issues in biology, with a strong though not exclusive focus on evolution. Written by two leading practitioners, the book continues to be an excellent entry point into the subject despite being more than 20 years old. For any reader of my own book who wants more detail, Sterelny and Griffiths’ text is ideal. Chock full of real-life examples, the book offers an excellent model of how philosophy can engage with biology. Topics discussed include function and adaptation, reductionism, levels of selection, the “selfish gene” theory, and more. 

The traditional neo-Darwinian view of evolution understands inheritance in genetic terms, as the transmission of DNA from parents to offspring. Jablonka and Lamb argue convincingly that in addition to genetic inheritance, there exist three other inheritance systems in nature – epigenetic, symbolic, and behavioural – all of which play an important role in evolution. The book is not a work of philosophy in the strict sense, but rather a fascinating and conceptually-rich synthesis of a diverse body of empirical findings which, the authors argue, can only be accommodated by going beyond a purely geno-centric view of evolution.

This is the best scientific novel I have ever read. The story is fiction (not 'science fiction' in the sense of fantasy, but a story that could easily take place in the real world right now), but its portrayal of how science is done, by a bunch of completely believable characters, is really true-to-life. It's a great way for young people considering a research career to taste what they are really like, and a great way for everyone to ask why we do science the way we do, while enjoying a well-paced multi-layer story, that is written with real wit. [Declaration for transparency: I know the author as a scientific collaborator, but this is nothing to do with my recommendation of her fiction]. 

The air we breathe and the water we drink are wild with microbes! This book tells amazing true tales about the personal microbes in our home, and how a space station lacked important microbes because no astronaut was female.

I love how some experiments failed the first time, but then revealed amazing finds. The same epidemiology that showed the cause of cholera now reveals “diseases of absence” of the microbes we need to protect us from asthma and food allergies. And our best drinking water contains microscopic crustaceans.

I learned so much about our body’s live-in microbes.