Books like The Sweet Spot — picked by fans

This book gave me a profound realization: humans aren’t rational decision-makers—we’re copiers. We survive by inheriting “packages of expertise” passed down through generations, but over time, those packages lose their rationale. When circumstances change, blindly following tradition can become a liability.

My work is about helping people use AI, data, and collaboration to think through the consequences of their actions. This book explains why that’s so difficult—reasoning isn’t what got us here. We memorize and repeat what worked before, even when the world shifts beneath us.

In an increasingly volatile world, that strategy is failing, and this book makes it clear why new approaches to decision-making are needed. If you’ve ever wondered why people resist logic and innovation, this book will change how you see human behavior.

Why do we cooperate? To a highly cooperative species like ourselves, it might seem obvious that we do, but from a rational perspective, individuals benefit more from pursuing their own narrow interests. To answer this question, this book takes a step back, or rather a few million steps, evolutionarily speaking. From the level of the cell to that of complex societies, it examines cooperation as a driving force in nature, allowing us to see ourselves as part of a much bigger story.

If intoxication has so many negative outcomes, why do all human cultures practice it? In Drunk, historian Edward Slingerland puts forward a radical as well as fascinating hypothesis. He argues that far from being an evolutionary accident, the human penchant for alcohol (and other intoxicants) has played—and continues to play—important roles in human societies: it helps alleviate stress, boost creativity and innovation, and promote trust, bonding, and cooperation. Best read while mildly intoxicated.

If we could just teach about the evils of climate change, people would surely change their behaviors.

I knew this idea was not born up by the facts and was searching for an alternative. This book showed me that if I wanted to get people to eat climate-friendly foods or become a climate advocate, I needed to think about social connections—in particular, what people see their friends and family doing.

Not only do the authors describe how we influence each other’s health, voting, and even happiness—they also argue that social networks provide a middle ground between individual destiny vs structural determinism.

In my work, Network Climate Action is similarly a middle ground between individual behavior change vs government policy in addressing the climate crisis. 

It’s a little weird that this book should find a place on my list. It’s a book about how society has become resistant to anything that is difficult and painful and the kinds of people that we have become as a result. But mathematics is difficult! To understand mathematics you have to think hard, sometimes for a long time. Moreover understanding something hard is discontinuous, it requires a leap to a new way of thinking. You have to start with a problem and this problem might be an ambiguity or a contradiction. A is true and B is true but A and B seem to contradict one another. When you sort out this problem you will have learned something.

The moral here is to embrace things that are difficult if you want to learn significant new things. “No pain, no gain.” You don’t have to worry about some super AI… show more.

I read this book in a season when I was wrestling with that pesky old question, “Where is God when I am suffering?” It challenged me to think deeply about why a loving God allows pain.

Wrestling alongside Lewis helped me feel less alone in my own questions. 

As I was researching St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila’s dark nights for my own book, May helped make sense of some of their language and ideas.

This book is a very helpful resource and guide, one of the best out there to help the reader understand the ancient spiritual concept known as the dark night of the soul. He unpacks its history, origins, purpose, and gives permission to the hurting reader to walk through a dark night without fear. May also moves the hurting, disillusioned reader to hope. 

By the time I read Courageous Souls, I had, through a combination of reading and metaphysical experiences, developed a deep belief in the survival and reincarnation of souls.

So, encountering the ten personal stories contained within the book did not introduce me to anything new. What it did, however, was dive deeper into questions that have plagued philosophers and theologians.

Why do some people stumble through life, and others float blithely above universal chaos? How do we square the concept of a loving Creator with all the evils which escaped Pandora’s Box, and haunt humanity? Is it possible that we truly choose personal adversities to be part of our lifetime? And if so, why?

This book further expanded my growing understanding of the spiritual soul choices that guide all incarnations.

I was deeply touched by my next pick because it seamlessly blends mindfulness with racial justice and healing. I was moved by the way Johnson combines her personal narrative with practical guidance, making the exploration of social justice and self-care feel both profound and actionable.

The book's focus on inclusivity and compassion truly resonated with me, offering a meaningful approach to integrating mindfulness into advocacy for a more equitable world. This book has inspired me to approach my own activism with greater awareness and empathy, and I find it essential for anyone committed to both personal and social transformation.

Sometimes the pain of our suffering is multiplied because those around us act as though grieving is a sign of weakness and lack of faith. Although we live in a world with many wonderful things, we will all experience suffering at some point. And trying to numb or avoid our pain doesn’t make our hurt and grief disappear. For that reason, I’ve been helped and encouraged by Mark Vroegop’s book because it teaches us to lament, which is acknowledging our grief and pain to God, giving ourselves the space and time to grieve while holding onto hope at the same time.