100 Books Like This Is Water

A timeless meditation on purpose, suffering, and the human spirit. While not about entrepreneurship, this book is essential for anyone seeking to understand the deeper meaning behind their work. Frankl’s insight—that we can find meaning even in suffering—is profoundly relevant for founders navigating hardship and uncertainty. 

What struck me most about it was how Frankl captured the Holocaust not just as a historical event, but as a raw, existential landscape. I’ve seen many films and documentaries about that era, but Frankl’s account stands apart. His lens is philosophical, not just historical. His insight that meaning, not pleasure or power, is the primary driver of human life resonated deeply.

I've focused on the idea myself that many entrepreneurs pursue ventures not for wealth or control, but as a way to fill a deeper existential hole. Frankl’s writing felt honest, profound, and necessary. This is a serious and enduring book I’ll return… show more.

This classic is my go-to for the challenges of living the creative life and how to push through them.

In short, punchy chapters, it identifies the main source of blocks writers and artists have and how to push through them.

I love its approach to the workmanlike attitude one needs to have to create consistently and move toward a goal, and how to be clear-eyed about the inner “resistence” we all have that seems to want to stop us.

I, Ruchin, like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for multiple reasons.

It is a father-son story, yet it includes how their family and friends shape their experiences. I like it because the motorcycle itself transforms into a human-like character, adding depth to the dialogue.

I also like the storytelling style; it is vivid. You can see each scene unfolding before you. And lastly, I appreciate how it draws on the Hindu and Buddhist values I grew up with, making the book even more relatable.

At the same time, I find the book a little dated in its voice and perhaps too long for readers today.

I have carried The Universal Traveller with me for decades and it sits next to my desk in my office. Any time I get jammed about next steps to take toward a worthy goal, I dip into this quirky, useful book. The authors look at life and all our efforts to live it with dignity and value through the lens of design and problem solving, by which they mean “making dreams come true.” The most meaningful life is one lived with a stoked imagination and the willingness to try on new ideas and methods. The UT is quaint because it was written before we were all digitally connected, but its wisdom stands the test of time.

I loved this book. It was a thought-provoking guide to navigating life's challenges and complexities. I especially loved the way Jordan Peterson drew on psychology, philosophy, and personal anecdotes to impart practical principles for finding meaning and purpose.

Each rule serves as a roadmap for self-improvement, urging you to confront challenges, take responsibility, and strive for a meaningful existence. Jordan Peterson's insights are both profound and accessible, providing me with a framework for personal growth in a world often marked by chaos.

Whether exploring the nature of truth or the importance of standing tall, this book is a compelling and enriching read.

Michael Schur is not a philosopher—he’s a comedian and the creator of the hit TV show The Good Place. Thus, since I am a professional philosopher, perhaps I’m supposed to be snide about the fact that Schur wrote a philosophy book. But I’m not. I really love the book, and I’ve recommended it to many friends who want a light and airy introduction to philosophy.

It’s funny and irreverent and does an impressive amount of really good philosophy. I laughed out loud while reading it, and even though I teach a lot of the fairly introductory material that Schur covers, I learned a lot just due to the breadth of what he discusses in this wide-ranging book. I came away thinking that perhaps more comedians should do philosophy!

You’ll have to work to find a copy of this book, but it will be worth your while. Morris is a brilliant philosopher (PhD from Yale, formerly on the faculty at Notre Dame) who has a flair for public speaking and accessible writing. (He wrote the Philosophy for Dummies book also.) In this volume, he champions the French scientific and philosophical genius Blaise Pascal to show the relevance of Pascal’s thought to our time and to our most pressing concerns.

Like many emotions, shame seems like a double-edged sword. Shame seems to notify us that we haven’t lived up to our own ideals – that we’re not the people we thought or hoped we were. But shame has, as Thomason carefully delineates, a dark side: Shame can lead us to withdraw from the world in order not to be seen, and too often shame is a precursor to self-destructive behaviors. Naked ultimately argues that we need shame despite these drawbacks. Thomason’s book is also among the very best of recent books to use philosophical tools to investigate social media; her discussion of online shaming should not be missed.

A Field Guide to a Happy Life is an outstanding example of what a modern Stoic book can and should be. Pigliucci has taken the famous Handbook (Enchiridion) of the Roman Stoic teacher, Epictetus, and reworked it to reflect a more modern approach to the philosophy. As such, this field guide is a portable, practical guide to applying Stoic wisdom in your day to day life.

What I most appreciate about A Field Guide to a Happy Life is that the author’s update of the philosophy is clearly described in a later section of the book. This allows the reader to compare and contrast the ancient with the modern. What does it mean to adopt and adapt a two thousand year old philosophy? This unique book is both a practical philosophical guide, and a jumping off point to deeper study.

I was shaken by the power of Setiya’s writing. Academic philosophers are not exactly known for the beauty of their prose, but this book is, indeed, beautiful. And sad. And a bit dark. So basically, it was exactly what I look for in a book.

I was drawn in by Setiya’s early disclosure that he lives with chronic pain and that this would be part of his window into exploring suffering. As someone who also lives with pain (and who has tried to write about it), I found his reflections powerful.

His chapter on grief, too, stayed with me, so much so that I went back to it after experiencing a loss in my life. Perhaps that’s the greatest compliment I can give this book—that it truly made philosophy matter to me when I needed it to.