100 Books Like The Planet You Inherit

This book helped me release shame after a colleague of mine told me my work wasn’t “science.”

Here’s the truth: to create a healing platform, I needed to tap into ways of thinking that academia sees as “woo woo” and “savage.” I looked to the stars. I meditated. I did rituals and read myths.

Dr. Kimmerer, trained as a traditional botanist, realized that the Indigenous myths and stories she was told as a child contained scientific knowledge passed down for generations by her tribe.

She realized there were scientific truths her community knew for millennia that traditional scientists only discovered within the last 100 years. This is the power of Ancestral Intelligence, disregarded by the same science that ultimately created AI.

What stories, fables, and myths have taught you valuable lessons about the world?

I have never read a novel so close to prophecy.

Published in 1995, Parable starts in July 2024 amidst the election of an autocrat who, by the sequel Parable of the Talents, literally pledges to “make America great again.” I started my platform in 2015 in the same context.

This novel pulled me into its harrowing tale of how to survive civilizational collapse: the dismantling of systems, norms, and climate change that we are all currently going through.

The lesson is ultimately about embracing change, caring for and trusting each other in community, and coming up with our own ways of being together. So many of our ancestors have survived periods of collapse by the same principles. These ancestral lessons still guide me, and I believe are critical to surviving AI dystopia.

This book, an anthology from women on the frontline of addressing Climate Change, is a must-read for our teams, including essays from a number of young women leading the charge, including Xiye Bastida Patrick and Alexandria Villaseñor. The book is remarkable in how clear-sighted each writer/storyteller is and how each essay rings with hope.

Joanna Macy is an environmental activist and a scholar of Buddhism and deep ecology. Her writing is at once direct and gracious, inviting us to explore new ways of understanding ourselves and our world. Central to her message of hope is what she calls the "Great Turning," a revolution in which humankind will turn from industrial capitalism, which seeks infinite growth through extraction, to a sustainable civilization of compassion and interdependence. This new edition of Active Hope, co-authored with Chris Johnstone, acknowledges that the Great Turning may in fact happen in the midst of a massive societal and ecological collapse, a "Great Unravelling." Yet, even in the midst of collapse, we can find deep hope by investing heart, mind, and strength in the Great Turning. "What's the best we can hope for? And how can we be active in making that more likely or even possible?"

I’m so not a country gal! No to ‘roughing it’. No to the scenic hikes and the bugs that got under my socks and inside my shirt! And the bear I thought I saw crossing the road ahead of me and my friend. So to love Mary Oliver’s poetry of nature came as a great surprise.

Her observational poems bring me to another space. One where there is a curiosity about things I might take for granted: bogs, streams, mushrooms, owls. Her poems bring calm and are soothing when you’re having a painful knee. Mary Oliver almost makes me want to go on a long walk. Well almost!

(Disclaimer, some of my own work is included in this book.) The author’s preface says, “This book is intended to stimulate new ways of thinking by illustrating an…approach to design that encourages people to tread more lightly, so that people may inherit a healthy planet.” Even as we are half a century into environmentalism, there is still a perception that “green” design is ugly: all burlap and granola. This book is chock full of examples of furniture, clothing, accessories, kitchen utensils and the like that prove otherwise. And in the decade-plus since it came out, there’s even more like this, more of what I call Transparent Green: designs that don’t shout greenness.

I love that Rah calls lament prophetic because it shines a light on the hard realities of pain or injustice. I needed to hear lament described as a conversation that happens best in communities hoping to be heard and helped by the Divine.

Rah is a professor and pastor, allowing him to bring intellectual rigor and empathy to his work. The book was born of a teaching series whose goal was to make room for stories of struggle instead of focusing, as American evangelicals typically do, on success and positivity.

This book traces through the songs of lament that make up the Book of Lamentations and honors the fact that sometimes laments end in minor key since they refuse to bury, bypass, or force a happy ending.

When an unprecedented hurricane devastates the city of Houston, Noah Mishner finds shelter in the Dallas Mavericks’ basketball arena. Though he finds community among other queer refugees, Noah fears his trans and Jewish identities put him at risk with certain “capital-T” Texans. His fears take form when he starts seeing visions of his great-grandfather Abe, who fled Nazi Germany as a boy. As the climate crisis intensifies and conditions in the shelter deteriorate, Abe’s ghost grows more powerful. Ultimately, Noah must decide whether he can trust his ancestor — and what he’s willing to sacrifice in order to survive.

I love the way that this novella offers a deeply intersectional view of the climate crisis, and how critical it is to find solidarity among vulnerable populations whose vulnerability increases during disasters.

This book isn’t really about the Bible, but its themes resonated so intensely with the Bible that I just had to recommend it. Ostrander’s stories about climate refugees in the present were valuable in helping me empathize with biblical characters such as Ruth, Abraham, and Joseph, who were also climate refugees seeking both physical and metaphorical homes.

Members of my book club (held at an organic farm) found her stories about various parts of the U.S. compelling, and we had a great conversation about our attachments to spaces now pressured by climate change. 

What happens when a cartoonist-television writer and a distinguished earth science professor team up to write about climate change? To me, the result is pure synergy.

Rollicking watercolors and humor-leavened text make hard climate truths accessible and empowering. Yes, the once-climate-unaware protagonist suffers at first as she learns about drought, species endangerment, and other perils accelerating our way.

But knowledge truly is power for the determined heroine, who personifies the kind of persistence and resilience we will all need in the coming decades. She doesn’t claim to have all the answers but insists that together we can find them.