4 books that will probably make you a better person
/I’m a voracious and enthusiastic reader. I appreciate most books, be they ‘groundbreaking nonfiction’ or ‘tongue-in-cheek chicklit’. I’m not fussy, and I’m generous with giving 5 star reviews on Goodreads. I believe every book will contain at least one sentence that speaks to my soul – and I don’t mind working through dense prose to find it.
So, you’ll often hear me proclaim that a book “changed my life!” – which sounds hyperbolic, but it’s true. I see reading as a way of growing. I take notes and save quotes. I reflect on a book’s themes and put my own life under the microscope in response. Am I like this character, or that one? Would I be a hero or a villain in this story? How can I do better now I know this new information?
My husband has a love-hate relationship with my book obsession. He never knows quite what mood I’ll be in when I finish reading. Will I worship the ground the writer walks on and talk obsessively about it for weeks on end? Will I fall into a deep despair about a particular issue? Will I declare I’m selling the car to save the planet?
Sidenote: I did try to go without a car recently. I once walked Zoey and Finn to kindy in torrential rain. It was miserable AND invigorating. I felt like I was making a point: I was testing out a new idea, taking it to its edge, to see if it would work. It felt much better (albeit colder) than musing about the idea in my journal. We kept the car, but I use it less – and I have a new level of respect for those whom walking in the rain is a necessity, not an experiment.
I’m telling you this – thank you if you’re still reading! – to give you some context about my feelings towards four books that recently rocked my world. Yes, I get excited about a lot of books. But I’m really, truly, deeply, intensely excited about these ones. Take how I feel about books in general – multiply by 10,000 – and you’ll be getting close to the impact these books have had on my life.
I read them back-to-back, in quick succession, and they all complemented each other wonderfully – how serendipitous! They are:
Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman
This One Wild and Precious Life by Sarah Wilson
Beartown by Fredrik Backman
Rodham by Curtis Sittenfeld
The first two are nonfiction books offering hope about humanity. Beartown & Rodham are novels that show humanity at both its best and worst.
Reading these while on maternity leave – mostly while breastfeeding my baby boy – has been a rollercoaster of emotions. I have no doubt that sleep deprivation and hormones played a part. But, I also have no doubt that I was meant to read them during this deeply vulnerable time – because my heart and soul are profoundly open to receiving the messages. When nursing a new life, it’s almost impossible to ignore big existential questions.
I’m working on in-depth reviews about each book, which I’ll publish on my website… eventually. Finding time to write while looking after a 5-month-old and a 3-year-old is proving challenging.
In the meantime, I hope these snippets offer a glimpse into their brilliance. I’ll trust you to connect the dots as to why these books complement each other so well – the themes of light and dark, hope and despair, action vs. passivity… there’s a lot to unpack in them all.
I’m chomping at the bit to discuss them with anyone and everyone, so if you do read one, please sing out so we can compare notes!
Book One.
Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman
“I’m no sceptic when it comes to climate change. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is the greatest challenge of our time – and that time is running out. What I am sceptical about, however, is the fatalistic rhetoric of collapse. Of the notion that we humans are inherently selfish, or worse, a plague upon the earth. I’m sceptical when this notion is peddled as ‘realistic’, and I’m sceptical when we’re told there’s no way out.”
Nothing – and I mean, nothing – riles me up more than fatalism. Humans are where we are today because we’re highly creative, ambitious, and imaginative beings. Yes, we have a chilling capacity for destruction. But, as Rutger Bregman argues beautifully in this book, destruction is not our preferred state. It’s something we resort to when we’re backed into a corner – it’s not the way most of us want to live. Bregman believes most of us seek peaceful cooperation with other people and with nature; it’s the way we’re wired.
Discovering that we’re biologically designed to look out for one another (indeed, that’s the only way to truly look out for ourselves) is an intense relief in a world where individualism reigns supreme. It infuriates me that the basic concept of looking after each other has become so politically charged, so mind-bogglingly controversial. Bregman’s exceptional book explains why this is the case (rigged psychology studies are partly to blame) and offers an alternate view of human history. We’re not, apparently, the bloodthirsty warmongers we’ve been led to believe. Destruction is not our truest calling – and it doesn’t have to be our fate. Once we begin to embrace this reality at a collective level, imagine where it could take us.
Book Two.
This One Wild and Precious Life by Sarah Wilson
“When I spoke to the dozens of climate scientists interviewed for this book, I asked if they thought they’d die from climate change-related causes (disease, pandemic, famine, war). Nearly all replied yes.”
This is not a light read. I have to be honest: before finishing this book, I kept thoughts about climate change at an arm’s length. I hoped someone – something – some new invention, some heroic leader – might swoop in and save us. I know how problematic this way of thinking is. But, what can I say? I have two young children… I wasn’t ready to face how bad things are.
And yet, I sought this book out, and before I could back out and think ‘let’s tackle this issue another day’, Sarah Wilson had me hooked. Thankfully, she promises ‘a hopeful path forward’, and she delivers.
It’s difficult to put into words just how much this book has changed my perspective on, well, everything. And yet, on some level, I feel like it didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know… I have a feeling you’ll know what I mean if you read it, too.
Here are some things I’ve done since reading This One Wild and Precious Life. (Some of these things may not seem that big of a deal to you if you’ve been in the activist space for a while, but – baby steps!)
I’m using cloth nappies as often as possible for my 5-month-old.
I’ve donated to 350.org.nz.
I’m learning how to recycle properly and paying close attention to labels.
I try to avoid food in single-use plastic (for example, I used to buy Tiny Teddies for my 3-year-old. Now I simply don’t).
I’m using the milk-bottle-exchange at my local cafe, where I get milk straight from the farm in glass bottles.
My husband is keen on baking bread at home (I’ve bought him a breadmaker for Christmas).
I’m considering composting and starting a veggie garden – this coming from a brown thumb!
I use my Keep Cup for takeaway coffee religiously, and make sure my immediate family does, too.
I’ve swapped bottled shampoo and conditioner for EcoStore bars.
I’m trying to use tea leaves instead of tea bags.
These are simple ‘low-hanging fruits’ when it comes to doing my bit. I know I have an enormous way to go – but before reading This One Wild and Precious Life, I wasn’t consistent with these habits. I’d try, and then life would take over – I’d get tired, encounter an obstacle, and quit. I’d oscillate between trying to be perfect – and ignoring the problem altogether.
Now, I just focus on one small step at a time. I don’t think ‘what’s the point of buying milk in glass bottles when I still buy yoghurt in plastic?’ I just keep buying the milk in glass bottles and know when I’m ready to tackle the yoghurt challenge, I will. I also don’t engage in defeatist thinking, like ‘how can I care about the environment and still eat dairy?’. When I’m ready to tackle my dairy-eating-habits, I will. One step at a time.
I have many, many more thoughts about this book – keep an eye out for a blog post in the near future.
Book Three.
Beartown by Fredrik Backman
“The girl goes on playing her guitar until her best friend falls asleep, and in the doorway stands a father, thinking that the girls will survive this. They’ll be able to deal with it. That’s what he’s afraid of. That that’s what’s going to make the rest of the world go on thinking that everything is okay.”
At first glance, Beartown is a book about ice hockey. I only gave it a shot (pun intended) because I’d enjoyed A Man Called Ove by the same author. (I’m not really interested in hockey). But, of course, it’s not really about hockey – it’s about humanity. And what better way to bring a bunch of completely different people together than through a shared passion for sport?
Beartown explores privilege, racism, sexism, addiction, grief, abuse, capitalism, ambition, community, love, hate, parenting – and a whole lot more – in clever, confronting prose. It’s a page-turner, but not one that leaves you feeling a bit sick or empty, like so many crime bestsellers.
This book moved me because it didn’t try to simplify how complex life can be, especially in small communities that are adverse to change. I feel as though so many of us have faith that we will do the right thing if and when an opportunity presents itself. But, could that just be our egos talking? It’s so easy to presume we’ll be heroic, but life is rarely that simple.
Beartown encouraged me to take a long, hard look in the mirror – and to realise that doing the right thing isn’t about waiting for a crisis to strike and then deciding which side you’re on. It’s about picking the right side upfront, and taking a proactive approach to preventing further problems. Climate change, racism, sexism – take your pick. These are worthy battles to throw my weight behind – I need not wait for a catastrophe before I roll up my sleeves and get involved.
Book Four.
Rodham by Curtis Sittenfeld
“‘Have you heard the sex party rumor?’ She winced and said, ‘It actually does sound familiar.’ I had the impulse to shake my head, but I didn’t want to mess up Veronica’s handiwork. I said, ‘You know when true equality will be achieved? When a woman with these kinds of skeletons in her closet has the nerve to run for office.’”
Imagine if Hillary Clinton didn’t marry Bill Clinton? That’s the intriguing premise of this novel. I marvel at Curtis Sittenfeld’s boldness: to take a public figure who is still alive (and supposedly, happily married) and imagine a completely different life for her.
Bill Clinton becomes a villain of sorts, and Hillary Rodham runs for president off the back of her own political achievements. Sittenfeld rewrites history, but weaves through real historical events – such as Bill Clinton getting accused of rape – that encourage you to view American politics in a harsh new light (yes, apparently that’s still possible).
Like many people, I was angry and sickened when Donald Trump was elected president. But I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t feel all that invested in Hillary Clinton at the time. This book made me realise it’s because I fell for the media’s spin. I saw the angry Hillary, the hypocritical Hillary, the tough Hillary, the unrelatable Hillary, the anti-women Hillary… not because any of these Hillary’s are true, but because that Hillary probably sold more papers. I didn’t dislike her, but I felt… ambivalent. I feel awful writing this down. I should know better. I should be able to see through this kind of spin by now.
But, it took this book to open my eyes to just how completely entrenched sexism is in politics, and how society expects women to be saints if placed in leadership positions. A poorly qualified male presidential candidate gets accused of sexual assault by multiple women? No problem. A female presidential candidate makes one questionable comment about cookies? Shut her up.
You don’t get to the top by being a saint. We seem to accept this fact for men – and vote in some ludicrous leaders – and yet women can’t put one pinky toe out of line, let alone be accused of something as serious as rape. As with all of the books on this list, Rodham was yet another opportunity for me to look in the mirror.
Humankind showed me I’d internalised the myth that people are bad and untrustworthy.
This One Wild and Precious Life showed me I’d internalised the myth that nothing I do truly matters – we’ll be doomed or saved whether I recycle properly or not.
Beartown showed me I’d internalised the myth that you only need to make big decisions in a moment of crisis.
And Rodham showed me I’d internalised patriarchy.
So, you know, some light reading… But, there you have it friends, my favourite books of 2020 – perhaps not the summer reading list you had in mind! But one that will offer hope, as only books that crack open your soul can.
About Jess
Jess is the founder of Made of Words and a proud idealist. She enjoys seeking out stories that inspire us to be better.
She’s a copywriter for changemakers (those on a mission to improve the world). You can reach her at jess@madeofwords.co.nz.