Books like The Power of Ethics — picked by fans

I’ll admit it—Jodi Picoult gets me in the feels every single time. But this was the one that hooked me. I thought I knew what I’d do if faced with the choice to conceive a child to save another. Simple, right? You save your kid.

But this story unraveled all my assumptions. It made me pause and really consider the perspective of the child conceived for a purpose. Then it threw the whole family into court—and suddenly, I was questioning everything again. I found myself discovering new values I didn’t even know I held.

This book didn’t just move me—it changed me.

I was a young mom when I first read this book, and abortion, death with dignity, and orphaned children weren’t exactly topics I was seeking out. But Irving pulled me in with a story so human, so layered, I couldn’t look away.

What struck me most was how these enormous ethical conflicts—ones that still ignite fierce debate—were explored through a quiet, powerful relationship between a boy and his mentor. Watching that relationship evolve helped me understand that ethics aren’t fixed; they shift with time, context, and lived experience.

This book made me sit with discomfort, question certainty, and lean into compassion. And that’s why I still think about it.

I like to think I’m a good person—and this book reminded me that being one doesn’t make hard decisions any easier. What it did give me was permission to stop expecting clarity all the time. I appreciated how it showed that ethical choices aren’t always about right vs. wrong but sometimes right vs. right.

It helped me see that moral discomfort isn’t a failure—it’s a sign that I care. And that these decisions, while messy and imperfect, are survivable. That meant something to me. I didn’t walk away with all the answers, but I did walk away feeling braver.

I’ve never forgotten the Milgram experiment—but I’d never turned it inward until I read this book. It forced me to ask: Do I ever follow instructions just because they’re expected? That question unsettled me—in a good way.

This book helped me recognize the quiet moments where obedience can blur into complicity. And more importantly, it gave me tools to pause, reflect, and re-anchor my values. What stayed with me most was the reminder that ethical clarity doesn’t have to happen in isolation. Community and collaboration are essential—not going it alone is a value I didn’t realize I’d been craving.

In a world obsessed with schedules and statistics, I found myself drawn to this whimsical tale about a man who rolls a dice to make life's big decisions. It mirrored my own youthful spirit–a time when I lived very spontaneously, even writing novels as experiments in happenstance. It was a time of unexpected adventures, an antidote to dull routines.

Nowadays, over-planning and seriousness sometimes creep in. But thankfully, I have my children to remind me of the simple, healing joy of play–life doesn’t always have to be so meticulously planned.

Eve tackles the topic of ectogenesis – gestation outside the womb. From literature to bioethics to cutting-edge medical research, the book examines this complex topic in creative ways.

Its chapter on abortion politics is particularly insightful because it considers how technology that allows for gestation in artificial wombs might lead to restrictions in abortion laws.

Horn’s writing blends sociological, legal, and bioethical analysis together with personal reflections on her own experience of pregnancy.

Not only is this one of the best books I’ve read on reproductive politics, but it’s one of the best books on the experience of being pregnant because it beautifully reflects on the complex social meanings of pregnancy and its physical embodiment. Eve is written in a highly accessible style, so readers without prior knowledge of the topic will find the narrative compelling.

Are things getting better or worse for farmed animals? I greatly appreciate the honesty of Peter Singer’s update to his 1975 classic. His dream was to inspire a movement that would end cruel “factory farming” by boycotting its products. And he did inspire a movement—but the industry has only got bigger, more intensive, more brutal, more ruthless.

It’s wrecking our environment, our health, and other animals’ lives all at once. The enemy was tougher to beat than he thought. Where do we go from here if we care about other animals? I think this book is a really powerful place to start.

When it comes to delivering principled criticism against the Olympics, Helen Jefferson Lenskyj is the OG. Today, activism against the Games crops up in just about every prospective Olympic host city. These dissidents often lean on the insights that Lenskyj has been making for decades.

In this book—one of several books she has written on the Games—Lenskyj zeroes in on the oversimplified pro-Games propaganda that emerges with metronomic regularity from the International Olympic Committee and decimates it with credible counterfactuals.

Her work on anti-Olympics activism has long set the standard.

We often think about intervention as questions of states intervening against other states, violating their legitimate sovereign claims.

This book complicates this picture. It focuses on less violent and risky types of intervention, by a variety of actors, showing how intervention can vary in how much it opposes institutions and how coercive it is.

One example Rafanelli gives is of Tostan (an international NGO that runs community empowerment programs in Western Africa) that works against practices such as female genital cutting and child marriage.

This significantly complicates the simplistic picture of intervention, often proposed by those wanting to reject measures to tackle human rights abuses. Such forms of intervention might be required to help protect democracy globally.

How do billionaires become so rich? One story is that it is all about hard work, initiative, and special talents. If you believe that story, then you might conclude that billionaires deserve their extreme wealth. What I found especially insightful about Chuck Collins book is that he painstakingly shows that this story is bogus.

Collins delves into the realities of what he calls the ‘agents of inequality’–the accountants and lawyers who ensure that the world’s richest people maintain and extend their wealth over generations. This fascinating book lifts the veil on how the rich use everything from cash hoarding to tax evasion to trust funds to ensure that the world’s economic system remains unequal.