Book Reviews – 2025

This was one of the heavier items that caused me to skip a week of reviews. Jonathan Birch has written a rare book that forces you to redraw the moral map you walked in with, with some profound implications for AI.

The topic is sentience (distinct from consciousness or intelligence). A sentient being here is defined as “a system with the capacity to have valenced experiences, such as experiences of pain and pleasure.”

The first two-thirds convinced me we have already been under-counting sentient minds for decades. All adult mammals are obvious, birds look increasingly obvious, and the functional homology between avian pallium and mammalian neocortex makes that hard to dismiss as convergent coincidence. Cephalopods graduate to “honorary vertebrate” status on behavioral and neurological grounds strong enough to embarrass anyone clinging to neuron counts. But there’s more: the Portia genus of spiders appear to be sentience candidates too, based on their sophisticated hunting strategies and apparent planning abilities.

The book starts and ends with a precautionary framework proposal which is an excellent starting point for democratic decision-making – because we’re going to need policies dealing with sentience yesterday. Striking the right balance with such policies is difficult: ignore real suffering and you become a monster, but attribute it too eagerly and you waste compassion on clever puppetry (where LLMs probably currently belong).

For the policy process, Birch suggests citizens’ panels, a democratic antidote to expert monoculture that feels fair yet logistically terrifying. He concedes panels might demand measures we dislike, but legitimacy demands we listen. Whether we have democracies capable of this remains an open question.

Towards the end of the book, the spotlight swings to AI. LLMs weaponise our own behavioral criteria, mining the same human corpus that birthed those criteria and gaming every test we devise. Lacking “deep computational markers” that would reveal real global-workspace-like architectures inside the black box, Birch’s solution is austere: box risky models and demand radical interpretability research.

Birch doesn’t stop at diagnosis. He offers the PARC tests (permissibility, adequacy, reasonable necessity, consistency) as a practical sieve for policy, and the “run-ahead principle” – the idea that regulators must act on potential sentience risks before we have perfect certainty, not wait until it’s politically convenient. The combination is daunting: if citizens’ panels weren’t challenging enough for democratic institutions, adding the pressure to make preemptive decisions about uncertain risks may be asking more than most democracies can deliver. Yet the blueprint exists now; if we can imagine the structures, we can then build them.

– Rating: 5 out of 5, but decidedly non-pop
– Dog-ear index: 6.7
– Who is it for: AI ethics & governance folk, policy people, curious technologists.

I bought “How to Fall in Love with Humanity” on pure impulse at Hill of Content in Melbourne – the title caught my eye and I thought “well yeah, I need to learn to do that”. Zero research. I might have expected some philosophical humanism or a celebration of humanity’s achievements. Instead, James ‘Fish’ Gill delivers something far more practical: a brief masterclass in conscious communication that hopes to achieves the title’s promise through an unexpected route.

Gill’s central thesis is simple: that most interpersonal conflicts stem from unconscious assumptions that derail connection. First, we assume that because we had valid intentions, others shouldn’t be upset. In the other direction, we assume that because we feel pain, they must have had nasty intentions. These create what Gill calls “conflict mode”; our default state where we fight for our good intentions to be seen while defending against being seen as wrong, ensuring an escalating conflict.

The book’s ‘four truths’ framework maps the hidden dynamics in any conflict, acknowledging four simultaneous realities: my longing, my pain, their longing, and their pain. Sound ‘woo-woo’ yet? Maybe. But bear with it. When we can hold all four truths at once, we move toward a more ‘benign world view in which we recognize the humanity in everything anyone has ever done, even as we stand fiercely against certain behaviors’.

I’m lucky to know some people who are extraordinarily good at this kind of attunement – who can hold space for multiple truths without defaulting to judgment. The contrast with those who can’t is stark, and Gill’s framework finally gives language to what makes the difference.

Gill’s brutal honesty about his own struggles makes these insights feel earned rather than prescribed. He’s not a guru who’s transcended human messiness, but someone actively practicing, sometimes failing, and learning from those failures.

This connects nicely to Ellen Langer’s perspective on forgiveness from “The Mindful Body” – that forgiveness implicitly requires judgment, and perhaps the more radical act is refusing to judge in the first place. Gill takes this further with “non-oppositional truth” that honors both experiences without dissolving into victim-and-villain narratives.

While occasionally a bit repetitive, the practical tools and phrases (to be used as a starting point for your own) Gill provides for difficult conversations alone make this worth reading.

Is this how we fall in love with humanity? Perhaps. By learning to hold space for the full complexity of human experience, we might find that our species is simply billions of beings expressing their longings and pain in ways that often unintentionally create pain for others. Maybe that understanding is a form of love.

Rating: 5 out of 5
Dog-ear index: 11.1 + secondary ones, too
Who is it for: Everyone. We all need these tools and perspectives.

In many ways, Lori Gottlieb’s “Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: a therapist, her therapist, and our lives revealed” was a bit of an unusual read for me – not for its topic, but for its structure. Rather than more pure research studded with a few anecdotes, the book is 95% stories; the author’s and her patients’, that then illuminate the research, Lori’s experience, and many underlying truths. There also is no reference list, but it’s still very much a book grounded in expertise.

Lori’s writing style is honest, direct, funny, and the truths about humanity and our struggles are very relatable. Some characters in the book may remind you of yourself, or someone you know. Others will infuriate you. Others fascinate you. Much like life – and in weaving together the world as seen through Lori’s eyes, the book also gives a beautiful window into the sometimes forgotten fact that our therapists are humans, too, and sometimes they need therapy as well. You may not find earth-shattering new information in it, but you _will_ find reminders of things that you knew, but had forgotten, or that aren’t as salient to you as they should be. As such, it’s challenging to draw any kind of an overarching summary of the narrative here, so instead, I will point out a few things that caught my attention:

* How difficult it still is for people to talk about not just our mental health, but our mental state. Jung was onto something when he said “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls.”

* Idiot compassion is probably a more common feature than we know, and I’m as guilty in doing that as the next person.

* That therapy can’t help people who aren’t curious about themselves.

* How sometimes people can’t identify their feelings because they were talked out of them as children through belittling them, or distracting them, or through other strategies. Some cultures – *cough* Finland *cough* – are worse offenders here than others.

* How we all grow in connection with others, and how the others are never really gone. Gottlieb writes: “Relationships in life don’t really end, even if you never see the person again. Every person you’ve been close to lives on somewhere inside you. Your past lovers, your parents, your friends, people both alive and dead – all of them evoke memories, conscious or not. Often they inform how to relate to yourself and others. Sometimes you have conversations with them in your head; sometimes they speak to you in your sleep.”

Taken all together, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone was an enjoyable read – interesting, often funny, punctuated by a few profound thoughts here and there, points that will surely vary depending on the reader. I’m not in a hurry to read more of the same, but I’m glad I read this.

* Rating: 4 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 4.1
* Who is it for: People curious about therapy from either side of the couch, or just maybe curious about humans to begin with.

Occasionally, a book surprises me positively, and I find myself marking more insightful points than I could ever hope to capture in a brief review. “Defy: The Power of No In a World that Demands Yes” by Dr. Sunita Sah is one of those books. Whatever highlights I touch on here won’t do it justice, so let’s start with a straightforward recommendation: just read it.

It’s tempting to think of defiance negatively – as a destructive or antisocial force. Sah suggest we redefine ‘defy’ as: “To act in accordance with your true values when there is pressure to do otherwise.”

Pressure to compromise our values is common, whether at work, in personal relationships, or broader societal contexts. Yet we frequently stay silent; we conform. Maybe we don’t want to cause a scene; maybe we don’t feel safe to speak up; maybe we think it wouldn’t accomplish anything. However, acts of principled defiance can be incredibly important not only for personal integrity but sometimes even for saving lives or catalyzing significant social shifts. Stories of both can be found in Defy.

Suh’s model of five stages of defiance (Tension → Acknowledgement [to ourselves] → Escalation [to others] → Threat of non-compliance → Act of Defiance) explains well why many of us, myself included, often delay or avoid speaking up despite clear internal discomfort. Organizationally, this connects to the ‘voice empathy gap’ – simplifying somewhat here, you can think of it as the distance between why you think people don’t speak up, and why they really don’t, because the two often differ dramatically, with serious consequences.

The aviation expert side of me sees direct links to many CRM (Crew Resource Management) principles here about speaking up, and these should be adopted by many, many more industries.

Sah also provides practical guidance. For example, she emphasizes the value of a pause when uncertain how to respond. She suggests three guiding questions: 1) “Who am I?” – prompting clear recognition of your values, something surprisingly few of us ever articulate explicitly; 2) “What type of situation is this?”, which clarifies context, and 3) “What does a person like me do in a situation like this?”

The subtle semantic shim of the last question – “a person like me” vs “what should I do” – is surprisingly important. It activates identity-based decision rules you know from your values, and cools hot emotions via self-distancing, both of which make principled defiance more repeatable and less stressful.

My critiques of Defy are minor, though I do harbor one conceptual concern. In misguided hands, advocating for defiance could parallel conspiracy theorists’ problematic mantra: “Do your own research”, often adopted by people who have no idea how to actually do any of that. We need more defiance, but we emphatically don’t need defiance grounded in easily falsifiable or harmful beliefs.

* Rating: 5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 14.5 + secondary corners too
* Who is it for: you. Yes, you.

In our era of tech-amplified individualism, Dacher Keltner‘s “Awe: The Transformative Power of Everyday Wonder” serves as both scientific exploration and a gentle reminder of something many of us maybe haven’t entirely lost, but often neglect: the experience of awe.

Keltner, who draws from a large body of research (his own & others) structures his exploration of awe around eight categories: moral beauty, collective effervescence, nature, music, visual design, spiritual/religious experiences, life and death, and epiphanies – plus a refreshingly honest acknowledgment of a 5% “other” category.

Though any taxonomy risks reductionism, Keltner’s framework offers language for the boundary-dissolving sensation. He defines awe at least twice: “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your current understanding of the world”, and “the emotion we experience when we encounter vast mysteries we don’t understand.”

We all have categories of awe we’re more drawn to than others. “Awe” pushed me to rethink my participation in some; personally, the nature category has always been closest to me. Keltner underscores again that reconnecting with natural environments offers powerful emotional and cognitive benefits; “it is hard to imagine a single thing you can do that is better for your body and mind than finding awe outdoors.”

The discussion about collective effervescence made me think of sports events – something I really have never been interested in – in a more understanding manner; they provide valid and valuable experiences of awe. Slightly less compelling was his exploration of spirituality and “how spiritual life grows out of awe”, which, while interesting and valuable, felt somewhat shallow compared to T.M. Luhrmann’s richer treatment in “How God Becomes Real.”

The writing style is easy to read, well-founded in research, and with humor surfaced subtly and effectively, such as when Keltner points out the strikingly premature nature of human infants, taking “ten to fifty-two years to reach semi-functioning independence, if there is such a thing.”

One fascinating thought is that awe could be a gateway drug to systems thinking; As Keltner puts it, “our default mind blinds us to this fundamental truth, that our social, natural, physical, and cultural worlds are made up of interlocking systems. Experiences of awe open our minds to this big idea. Awe shifts us to a systems view of life.” Systems thinking is something we desperately need more of, so if we can elicit some of that through awe, that would be great.

Drawing my anecdote and my experiences, I found myself wondering whether we should have technology-induced awe as another category. I’ve been awestruck by the physical sensations of standing directly above a 30 MW hydropower turbine, and I’ve had moments of awe with AI, too.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 10.8
* Who is it for: anyone keen to rekindle their awe, and evidence-hungry skeptics

From the front seat of his car, a trial-lawyer-turned-social media sage Jefferson Fisher has amassed a million followers by posting no-nonsense communication tips; now that material is distilled into a relatively slim manual called “The Next Conversation: Argue Less, Talk More” that functions like a multi-tool for messy human moments.

While I have enjoyed and appreciated Jefferson’s online content, I opened the book half-dreading a lightweight “influencer” text and half-hoping for ready-to-use guidance. The pragmatist in me won: this is unapologetically plug and play. The prose is plain, and the techniques concrete. It was a bit of a slow start to get me hooked, perhaps because of the slightly different style than I’m used to; it took 50 pages to get to the first one that I dog-eared, but it ramped up quickly from there. My nuance-loving brain occasionally itched for deeper cognitive-science scaffolding, but that’s more of a me-problem, wanting a deep-dive where Fisher’s focus is firmly on ‘actionable’ guidance in plain language.

Fisher’s best reminders are almost embarrassingly obvious until you actually try them in conversations. Among them is the power of deliberate silence: pause long enough to feel awkward, and you’ll often disarm the whole exchange. What is being modeled to us in that regards, or content we are influenced by, is often wrong, too: “Movies and television shows often dramatize the impact of quick dialogue, making it seem as though everyone already knows what they’re going to say. Well, that’s because actors have the benefit of a written script and film editors. It’s not real-life communication. […] Arguments in the real world don’t happen like they do in the media. It’s not a healthy metric.”

We all know this; yet forget it when adrenaline spikes in a heated discussion.

The fact that the book is a quick read, written in plain language, and is easy for anyone to follow, is not to say that it would be scientifically inaccurate – not at all. There’s a lot of great dialogue guidance in the book. So much so that this book will change how I communicate in certain situations.

I was pleasantly surprised by this, and would not hesitate to recommend the book to most people, given communication is something we all need to do. Not all the settings discussed will be relevant to everyone, but I’m confident everyone can find something in it to identify with and draw lessons for; whether it’s about how to communicate setting boundaries, framing difficult conversations, or how to be assertive. It’s a quick read, and time well spent.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 8.2
* Who is it for: Managers, parents, partners – anyone who occasionally exits a conversation thinking well, that escalated quickly and would appreciate practical phrases and concrete advice more than another academic framework.

The title alone is bound to ruffle some feathers, in the process ironically highlighting exactly the double standard Peter Boghossian explores in “A Manual for Creating Atheists”: religions evangelize all the time, yet even suggesting a rational counterpoint can seem provocative to them. It shouldn’t, but it does because the majority of the people use faith to understand the world.

Peter’s central provocation is a definition that initially reads like a Molotov cocktail tossed into Sunday school: “Faith is pretending to know things you don’t.” Spend some time with his logical unpacking of that claim and it will be hard to disagree with it. Once faith is treated as an epistemology that it is, and framed as a process for arriving at beliefs, the book’s mission becomes clear: expose the process as unreliable, then offer an upgrade.

Most of the book models Socratic‑style “street epistemology” conversations in which patience, empathy, and strategic questioning guide believers to notice cracks in their own certainty. Many of these dialogues are illuminating, and some are just laugh‑out‑loud funny.

These exchanges, along with the scaffolding offered, showcase how thoughtful questioning can deeply unsettle beliefs purportedly based on evidence or “facts.” People who claim their religious beliefs rest on research and logic will likely find their worldviews seriously shaken – assuming, crucially, that they care about their beliefs aligning with reality in the first place.

One of the broader, and increasingly relevant, points Boghossian highlights is how societal discourse has shifted, making educators reluctant to question certain forms of irrational thinking openly. Long before “post‑truth” became a news‑desk cliché, Boghossian warned educators were tip‑toeing around bad reasoning lest they be branded intolerant. A decade later the diagnosis feels eerily prescient.

The book occasionally toes, and I feel like sometimes slightly crosses, the line into unnecessarily inflammatory language. Now, Boghossian does emphasize how “words matter,” yet his careful philosophical precision occasionally gives way to rhetorical choices that feel more provocative than productive. To his credit, even at its sharpest, his criticism remains fundamentally respectful towards believers themselves.

What are we left with here? I’m reminded of a quote from T.M. Luhrmann’s How God Becomes Real; that “Individuals may benefit from developing a relationship with their god, but it does not follow that the way they imagine that god is a benefit for the social whole. It also does not follow that all human-god relationships are good ones.”

Questioning how we come to know things isn’t hostility; it’s civic hygiene, and we need more of it.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog‑ear index: 11.5
* Who is it for: Readers interested in epistemology, critical thinking, and religious belief. Theists confident their faith rests on evidence: read at your own epistemic peril.

Digital communication nowadays often overshadows face-to-face interaction. Enter Alison Wood Brooks‘ “Talk: The Science of Conversation and The Art of Being Ourselves,” a timely exploration of how conversations work, fail, and how we can improve this essential skill.

Let’s start with a small gripe: the book introduces yet another framework, this one standing for “Topics, Asking, Levity, and Kindness” – TALK. Yay. I’m not a fan of frameworks that CLEARLY came with the abbreviation first, and while these are all fine principles that are well explained, I’m not convinced it works effectively as a mnemonic. It feels a bit forced. It’s also overly verbose: what could have been a long-form article or a much shorter book stretches on. The editor might have cut at least 50 pages without losing substance.

That said, the positives are many. Brooks offers excellent guidance on asking sensitive questions, along with nice, albeit somewhat basic, tips on conversation fundamentals. One of the book’s insights is its inverted pyramid of discussion layers, starting from the visible part – the content of what’s being said – and diving deeper into emotions, beliefs, motives, and identity. This structure helps one understand the multiple dimensions operating in any meaningful exchange.

Another insightful point is about the often-repeated advice to “put yourself in their shoes,” noting: “It’s great in theory, but decades of research have documented the profound human inability to intuit the minds of others in practice. Put simply, people are terrible at putting themselves in others’ shoes.” (Much like the conventional wisdom of “never go to bed angry”, which is also actually terrible advice)

I was introduced to Olivia de Recat’s Closeness Lines through this book – a minimalist visual concept that captures the emotional ebb and flow of human relationships over time. Using just two simple lines, each illustration represents the dynamic between two individuals; how they come together, drift apart, or remain intertwined. It’s a poignant and powerful concept in its simplicity. Look it up.

There’s abundant advice throughout the book, and as with any advice collection, not all of it lands well. Some suggestions, like the advocated feedback sandwich, don’t have particularly strong research evidence to back them up. I also worry that some recommendations don’t generalize as broadly as Brooks seems to believe.

“Talk” is a solid introduction to the science of conversation, but those who have already read extensively about communication might find limited new material here. It serves best as a primer for those looking to improve their conversation skills rather than as a groundbreaking contribution to the field.

* Rating: 4 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 9.6
* Who is it for: Those looking to improve their conversational skills and understand the deeper dynamics of human interaction. People who have read a lot about communication will find limited new things in this.

https://www.amazon.com.au/Talk-Science-Conversation-Being-Ourselves/dp/02415962089

The Mindful Body by ellen langer is one of those books whose central claim seems either too simple or too outlandish at first – until you start seeing the evidence stack up. The book, among other things, profoundly challenges Cartesian dualism and even recent talk of a ‘mind-body connection,’ suggesting instead something more radical: there isn’t a “connection” because mind and body are literally inseparable. First, heads up: the word ‘mindful’ is used slightly differently here, so that takes some getting used to.

I generally dislike simple categories, but one useful model Langer sets out is Level 1-2-3 of thinking. Level 1 is like naive automation – for example, the “Level 1 way of thinking about the meaning of life is to not really think about it at all”. Level 2 is a state “in which we think we think we are acting rationally, and typically become certain of our understandings”, where Level 3 is “the state in which we are being mindful, applying multiple perspectives”, such as accepting there may be several equally good explanations of any behavior.

Langer has been researching this field longer than most readers have probably been alive, so it’s safe to say she’s learned a thing or two. The sheer number of studies Langer cites – many her own – is impressive. Sometimes her interpretations feel a bit stretched, particularly around phenomena like improving eyesight through mindfulness. Individually, each study could be nitpicked or sometimes even explained away as placebo effects or methodological quirks. Yet, collectively, the weight of evidence becomes damn near impossible to dismiss, suggesting a radical reevaluation of health, perception, and aging.

A particularly intriguing philosophical point is on forgiveness. Langer argues forgiveness implicitly involves judgment; for there to be something to forgive, one must first blame someone. But what if we refuse to judge at all? From this vantage point, behaviors become understandable reactions given enough information – suddenly there’s nothing left to forgive. It’s a viewpoint both humane and challenging to our default morality. As Langer points out; “Who ultimately forgives? People who first view the world negatively, then blame, and then forgive? Hardly divine.” (Keep in mind understanding and condoning are two very different things.)

Langer’s proposition isn’t a trivial semantic shift; it demands we reconsider nearly every aspect of health, wellness, and everyday life. The Mindful Body invites readers into a quietly revolutionary stance toward health and wellbeing. It doesn’t ask for faith, just openness to evidence accumulating powerfully page by page. If even half of what Langer suggests holds water, we need a paradigm shift in understanding ourselves.

* Rating: 4 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 13 (very high)
* Who is it for: Anyone curious about mindfulness, health, psychology, and the fascinating intersection between perception, consciousness, and physical well-being.

We have a new record in the dog-ear index. Oliver Burkeman’s “Meditations for Mortals: Four Weeks to Embrace Your Limitations and Make Time for What Counts” is one of those books that will leave you thinking for substantially longer than it takes you to read it. Structured as brief daily chapters over four weeks, it encourages readers to slow down, reflect, and perhaps re-calibrate their relationship with life’s inherent constraints and unpredictability.

Each week tackles a broader theme, while each day focuses in on a specific topic. Naturally, some chapters will resonate more strongly than others; the record-breaking dog-ear index of 17.9 should tell you plenty about how many hit home for me personally. Many of Burkeman’s points might seem obvious or commonly known in retrospect, but that’s precisely why they need repeating – they’re unlikely to have been salient in your mind before being reminded of them. Just because something seems self-evident doesn’t mean it’s actively shaping how we live our lives.

I found myself violently agreeing with many of the book’s concepts, from the charm of “Scruffy hospitality” to the playful yet deeply true idea that any experience in life can be “either a good time or a good story.”

I also discovered one of my now-top-ten-favorite quotes from the book; Sheldon B. Kopp’s statement “You are free to do whatever you like. You need only face the consequences.” – another self-evident truth we often forget. “The truth, though it often makes people indignant to hear it, is that it’s almost never literally the case that you _have to_ meet a work deadline, honor a commitment, answer an email, fulfill a family obligation, or anything else.”

As one brief snippet from the “What Matters”-chapter, consider the following where Burkeman gently dismantles our cultural obsession with extraordinary achievement:

“We feel pressured to do something extraordinary with our lives, or to an extraordinary standard of merit, or in a way that’s applauded by an extraordinary number of people – even though it’s true by definition that only a few people can ever be extraordinary in any given domain. (If we could all stand out from the crowd, there’d be no crowd from which to stand out.) Why shouldn’t an anonymous career spent quietly helping a few people get to qualify as a meaningful way to spend one’s time? Why shouldn’t an absorbing conversation, an act of kindness, or an exhilarating hike get to count? Why adopt a definition that rules such things out?”

It’s these sharp, humane, and elegantly delivered insights that make Meditations for Mortals profoundly valuable. If you’re ready in some ways to slow down, yet speed up in other ways, and rethink how you’re spending your finite days, this one’s for you.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 17.9
* Who is it for: Those seeking, or those that think they might benefit from, meaningful reminders about living well within life’s limitations.

One significant source of where I find my books from are friends who know what I would like. Maria Popova’s “The Universe in Verse: 15 Portals to Wonder through Science & Poetry” is an example from that carefully curated category, gifted to me by my dear friend Judit Brown. It is a touching book that beautifully weaves together science, some of the scientists behind the discoveries, and poems that illuminate the human dimensions behind scientific inquiry.

For someone like myself, traditionally anchored in “hard science”, and relatively recently having broadened my exploration beyond that, this book was a gentle nod at that more inclusive appreciation. It serves as a reminder that science isn’t solely about facts and formulas but also about wonder, curiosity, and the distinctly human drive to understand our universe. Each short section explores topics ranging from dark matter and the nature of infinity to the hidden intelligence of trees and octopuses, complemented by carefully selected poetry.

If you’re seeking rigorous scientific explanations or detailed theoretical breakdowns, this isn’t the book. If you’re an avid science reader, you probably won’t even learn anything – maybe get a high-level refresh at most. Instead, Popova offers a different kind of scientific engagement – one that you _feel_ rather than merely understand intellectually. She artfully pairs concise, compelling stories of scientific discovery with poetry that echoes and amplifies their emotional and philosophical resonance.

I liked how Popova foregrounds the personal histories of scientists – many of them women whose remarkable contributions have been historically overlooked. Their stories provide crucial context and emotional depth, turning scientific concepts from abstract ideas into lived human experiences. The beautiful illustrations by Ofra Amit add visual beauty of the book, making it a pleasure not just to read but to savor.

While it may not leave you with new scientific skills, if you have an even passing appreciation of poetry, it will leave you with a deeper, more nuanced appreciation for the emotional and imaginative aspects of science, reminding us that wonder and poetry are essential parts of scientific discovery itself.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: N/A
* Who is it for: People seeking to deepen their emotional and imaginative relationship with science, particularly those ready to expand beyond purely analytical perspectives.

In a world where we’ve become increasingly disconnected from place and community, Tyson Yunkaporta‘s “Right Story, Wrong Story: Adventures in Indigenous Thinking” offers a radical, yet gentle reorientation. This book is something different – it’s written, and thus read, as if you’re having a yarn with the author himself. The conversational, warm, and deeply honest tone makes complex, sometimes confronting ideas accessible in a way that’s rare in contemporary discourse.

Yunkaporta takes us on a journey of stories – right stories, and wrong stories. It’s a meandering journey, offering glimpses of answers to inevitable questions like “well what, exactly, is the wrong story?”; it doesn’t as much arrive at a conclusion than allow you to draw one out. The closest it gets to being prescriptive is using language like “Wrong story is an innovation that eliminates trust and destroys social cohesion, whether it is consumed or resisted. Wrong story is fraud on a global scale.”

The book delivers some profound truths and justified condemnations of our present systems, yet does so from a place of such genuine grace that you never feel like you’re being lectured to – only invited into a different way of seeing.

There are passages as little gems that stop you, and make you think how wrong we’ve done it, such as: “Rage is a force multiplier that should only be deployed where success is certain, collateral damage is zero and your actions will definitely make the world better for your descendants.” Considering how are deploying rage in our discourse today, this perspective feels not just wise but necessary, and something that requires a deep correction.

It’s actually quite difficult it is to pinpoint exactly what I learned from “Right Story, Wrong Story”, or even how it changed me – and yet, I know it did both. The book works on you subtly, reframing perspectives and inviting questions rather than imposing answers. It makes you want to focus on the “right story” while acknowledging the cognitive dissonance many of us face in making our living from the fruits of the “wrong story.”

The yarning-style presentation of deep wisdom and perspectives might not work for readers seeking structured arguments or clear-cut facts and an actionable checklist. But this apparent looseness is integral to its power, as it models a different way of sharing knowledge that’s relational rather than transactional. The insights are woven throughout, sometimes appearing unexpectedly in what seems like a casual aside, much like the best conversations we have in life. This is a book that respects its readers enough to let them find their own path through its wisdom.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 9.2
* Who is it for: Those wanting to examine the stories we live by, stories our society is built on, and their consequences; those open to having their worldview gently but strongly challenged.

Imagination: A Manifesto by Ruha Benjamin is an engaging exploration of the powerful role imagination plays in perpetuating, but also potentially dismantling, social inequalities.

Benjamin persuasively argues that imagination is not an escapist fantasy but crucial invisible circuitry connecting our inner worlds to the broader societal landscape. She highlights the need for critical self-examination: “We must, in a sense, continuously deprogram ourselves, challenging the hierarchies that place us above or below, and decode the imaginative justifications that make those social hierarchies seem natural, durable, and deserved.” – a point I wholeheartedly agree, though there is the important counterpoint to this; what and how, exactly, should we then reprogram ourselves with, which at best gets a very partial answer in this book.

The book is very much U.S.-centric, examining the pitfalls of American education and societal systems. This serves to highlight just how broken their system is, and also as a timely cautionary tale for other countries, but does detract from the practical value for non-U.S. readers; certain lessons simply don’t translate directly into other cultural contexts.

The booked touched Finland in a couple of places, which was interesting but also unfortunately with an uncritical and misaligned perspective; first Benjamin portrays Finland’s educational system in a very typically-rosy light. Having gone through the system myself, I this depiction is very much idealized rather than realistic.

Another point of contention arose from the portrayal of single-occupancy benches in Finland as intentional acts of social exclusion; such examples are typically cited in the context of hostile architecture against homeless populations. Benjamin misses the significant cultural context: in Finland, these designs primarily reflect Finnish cultural norms around personal space and privacy, not a deliberate attempt to marginalize the homeless.

Despite these critiques, the book’s strengths outweigh its weaknesses. Benjamin skillfully emphasizes the vital role imagination plays in shaping societal values and structures. Her inclusion of imaginative exercises and prompts to stretch readers’ imaginative and creative abilities adds genuine practical value, making the book a resource as much as a manifesto.

Overall, “Imagination” is insightful and provocative, even if somewhat limited by its U.S.-centric viewpoint and occasional mischaracterizations. It’s an important read, particularly for American audiences, serving as both a warning and an invitation to critically reflect on how imagination shapes our collective futures.

* Rating: 4 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 7.8
* Who is it for: Readers interested in social justice, cultural critique, and those willing to challenge the implicit narratives and systems shaping our world, while in the process hopefully applying that critical lens on themselves, and examine where their views have originated from.

Adaptability could well be the skill that defines our success in this era we find ourselves in. In her new book “Adapt: Mastering change in four steps,” Andrea Clarke makes a compelling case for why and how we need to cultivate what she calls a high “adaptability quotient” or AQ.

Full disclosure: Andrea is a friend, and she repeatedly reminded me that I’m not the target audience of this book given my extensive background in foresight & tech. She also quotes me extensively in the book. Nevertheless, I found myself thoroughly engaged with the book – and more importantly, realized just how many people ARE the target audience for this important message.

Clarke’s central thesis is that adaptability isn’t just another nice-to-have leadership skill, or the flavor of the month – it’s becoming fundamental to navigating both our professional and personal lives in this period of rapid change. As she puts it, “we are currently in a window of opportunity to make small moves that could change our long game” – a sentiment I can wholeheartedly agree with, though I always bristle a bit at the term ‘game’.

Something that sets “Adapt” apart is its accessibility in covering many important topics. Andrea, for example, introduces fundamental foresight techniques and breaks them down into digestible, practical approaches that anyone can understand and apply. The book is peppered with aviation metaphors and stories (which admittedly was an easy way to win me over, given they were used well), but more importantly, it’s filled with practical checklists and exercises that prompt you to tackle often-neglected aspects of adaptability, from resilience reality checks to detecting impermanence in your environment.

One of the book’s strengths lies in how Andrea weaves her own remarkable experiences throughout the narrative, making the concepts feel grounded and real rather than a theoretical framework.

One point about hiring resonated with me: “We need to hire and develop individuals who have the emotional maturity to handle change, collaborate effectively, and contribute to a positive team culture.” While I wholeheartedly agree, I’d note there’s both a chronic shortage of such individuals and, more problematically, many organizations aren’t actually prioritizing these qualities in their hiring practices – nor go through the trouble of developing their talent on them.

“High-AQ habits” Clarke describes and provides tools for in the book aren’t just nice ideas – they’re becoming survival skills in our rapidly evolving world. The book offers a practical roadmap for developing them, making concepts accessible without oversimplifying them, and offering them in a quick read a busy executive can read on one domestic flight.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 6.5
* Who is it for: Anyone feeling overwhelmed by the pace of change in their professional or personal life, and individuals who know they need to upgrade their adaptability skills but aren’t sure where to start.

This book is part of the series of wanting to update my understanding of some science basics; in “The Forgotten Sense,” Jonas Olofsson delivers a comprehensive exploration of our most underappreciated sense: smell. The title itself speaks volumes about our cultural dismissal of olfaction, a theme that Olofsson develops with both scientific rigor and engaging narrative.

Incredibly, according to surveys, more people would willingly give up their sense of smell than part with their mobile phones. Those people don’t know what they’re talking about, however – as Jonas shows, the sense of smell is surprisingly important to many areas of our existence, and losing it is downright debilitating.

Myth-busting is part of what the book does: contrary to popular belief, humans possess remarkably capable olfactory systems. We’ve simply convinced ourselves otherwise, partly due to centuries of philosophical and cultural bias against this “primitive” sense, and we also tend to compare ourselves to dogs – who are outliers in the animal kingdom. Another myth-busting is casting doubt on the importance of human pheromones and the many associated marketing claims. Their role in human behavior may be far less significant than commonly believed. However, Olofsson does present fascinating research about human body odors, including the surprising finding that garlic consumption actually improves the perceived quality of body odor.

Like many other senses, smell, too, is intimately interwoven with the prediction machine called our brains as well as the other senses. Color, in particular, can powerfully shape our olfactory experiences, demonstrating the deeply interconnected nature of our sensory systems. Many people know that what we think of taste is actually mostly our sense of smell – but what you may not have realized is the extent to which this happens; plug or pinch your nose shut, taste blind, and you won’t be able to taste the difference between ketchup and mustard(!).

The emotional power of smell-associated memories also gets some attention. The book explains how the brain’s architecture – with direct connections between olfactory processing areas and emotional centers – makes smell-triggered memories particularly potent and emotionally charged. Yet paradoxically, we often struggle to name or describe smells, highlighting an intriguing limitation in human olfactory language.

There are also some profound practical implications from all the smell research; Olofsson discusses how smell training can enhance not just olfactory perception but memory function in general, offering potential therapeutic applications. The book also provides insights into COVID-19’s impact on smell, a symptom that has affected millions globally and highlighted just how essential this “forgotten sense” truly is.

* Rating: 4 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 9.3
* Who is it for: Anyone wanting an updated understanding on our most undervalued sense and how it impacts our lives.

“The Blind Spot” by Adam Frank, Marcelo Gleiser, and Evan Thompson considers an important question, which is what drew me to it in the first place: how do we reconcile scientific objectivity with subjective human experience? The premise is fascinating and timely, particularly as we grapple with questions of consciousness and artificial intelligence. Still, something in it was missing. Or I was missing something. We’ll get to that.

The authors argue that science has a significant blind spot when it comes to human experience and consciousness. They suggest that by mostly excluding subjective experience from scientific inquiry, we’re missing crucial aspects of reality. This is an important point, but one that gets somewhat lost in the book’s meandering exposition and occasionally overwrought philosophical discourse. The term Blind Spot also gets repeated so often that I was positively sick of it already by page 25.

One of the book’s main challenges is its tendency to over-complicate some things that I feel are relatively straightforward concepts. For instance (nb. this is not exactly an example of a straightforward concept, but anyway), much better explanations of quantum phenomena like entanglement and superposition can be found from other works. The authors also spend considerable time critiquing and analyzing historical perspectives, such as those of Alfred North Whitehead (who died in 1947), engaging with the more contemporary perspectives quite selectively.

This is not an old book; it was published in 2024, but the points about AI are already not aging well, and were made with unwarranted confidence (and, I might add, uncritically quoting Gary Marcus). It also builds straw man arguments by taking extreme viewpoints as representative of the entire field’s view. This weakness becomes especially apparent in their critique of AI consciousness, where they seem to miss crucial nuances in current debates while relying heavily on dated perspectives.

While the book raises valuable points about the integration of subjective experience into scientific inquiry and the nature of complex systems, these insights often get buried under layers of dense terminology and are philosophically quite contentious. Not that that’s a bad thing per se, but I got the feeling that what could have been a concise, powerful argument for incorporating human experience into scientific understanding becomes a somewhat bloated philosophical treatise.

I’d like to learn more about fields like neurophenomenology, but not from these authors. YMMV.

* Rating: 3.5 out of 5 – I don’t know, maybe I missed some prerequisite knowledge to get the most out of this? 🤷‍♂️
* Dog-ear index: 7.5
* Who is it for: Philosophers of science and readers interested in the intersection of consciousness studies and scientific methodology – provided they have a high tolerance for dense prose and are willing to wade through some overwrought passages to find some insights buried within.

A couple of weeks ago, I capped off my quieter period of the year with a solo overnight hike at Mt Buffalo National Park. I had taken Sacred Nature by Karen Armstrong with me, and as I read “To glimpse the sacrality of the natural world requires a degree of quiet and solitude that is hard to come by today. Indeed, we seem to find silence alien and often deliberately eliminate it from our lives. [..] As a result, the sounds of nature have retreated and become increasingly distant form our minds and hearts” alone on top of Mt McLeod, several kilometers away from the closest human being, surrounded only by the sound of winds & birds, it was easy to slip into the sacrality of nature. The setting could not have been better.

Karen Armstrong has written many thoughtful comparative works on religion, and this is not an exception. The core message behind Sacred Nature is that humanity has distanced itself from nature to the detriment of the species and the planet, and that we can learn from the views of many ancient religions on how we might regain the sacrality of, reverence for, and therefore respect for nature.

When it comes to religions and nature, Christianity emerges as the chief antagonist. Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, the sacred is typically celebrated as a distant reality rather than an immanent presence, with Psalms explicitly positioning everything in the universe as subservient to humanity. Since the fourteenth century, this has evolved into an entirely different notion of the sacred – by rationalizing nature and confining God to the heavens, we’ve drastically reduced the divine until it became either incredible or imperceptible. Unlike other scriptures, the Bible itself has encouraged this view, suggesting that nature is subordinate to Yahweh and subservient to human needs.

The book explores our relationship with nature among Kabbalists, Muslims, Christians, Confucians, Daoists, and Hindus, it becomes very clear that they had, in many ways, a healthier relationship with nature than our modern world does. It’s both touching and interesting to learn just what that relationship is; or, should I say was, given that clearly much of this has been lost.

Unsurprisingly, Armstrong calls for a shift in mindset, which is hard to argue against given the damage human civilization is inflicting on its own life support system. Whether ancient religions are “right” is less relevant than recognizing their more sustainable relationship with nature. I particularly appreciated how the book illuminates different religious perspectives on holiness, sacrifice, kenosis, and gratitude – from nature’s near-absence in Judaism and Christianity to its status as divine revelation equal to the Qur’an in Islam. These varied lenses offer valuable insights for our current environmental crisis.

* Rating: 4 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 11
* Who is it for: those interested in environmental ethics and comparative views of how religions view/ed our relationship with nature

We’re back in the land of good books this week, thank goodness. Many a book has been written of the tech titans of Silicon Valley and associated phenomena, but “Burn Book” by Kara Swisher is perhaps the most entertaining, and quite possibly the most accurate in terms of digging into the kind of people who run the place, history of the Internet age you’ll read. As someone who has been covering tech longer than many founders have been alive, Swisher brings an unmatched perspective combined with her signature irreverent wit to create what amounts to a deliciously honest tear-down of tech’s most powerful figures.

I should add a disclaimer here: I’m a fan of Kara’s work on both Pivot and On podcasts (and previously Sway), and my views of the tech industry and the people who run the show have significant overlaps with her views. In other words, I might be biased here.

For those unfamiliar with the kind of person we’re dealing with, I will quote John McLaughlin’s characterization that is also quoted in the book’s epigraph: “Most people in this town stab you in the back, but [Kara] stabbed me in the front, and I appreciate that.”

Not many people can pull off being consistently hard but fair when dealing with powerful people. Kara has this fairly unique ability – a rare quality for anyone, but especially rare when dealing with some of the world’s most powerful people. She doesn’t pull punches, but neither does she ever resort to cheap shots. Her critiques are sharp, informed by decades of close observation and close interaction with these figures, and often devastatingly accurate.

Burn Book is concise for the ground it covers, moving at pace through the key moments and personalities that have shaped modern tech. Kara’s writing style is engaging and often funny in an appropriately sarcastic manner. There are a lot of revelations, even if many of them aren’t exactly surprising to many people – like the fact that “when the truth stands between a man and his next $100 million, the truth is always going to be escorted off the premises.” We all know that – I hope – but we need people to remind us of the harsh realities and priorities of these people.

While Burn Book is an absolutely engaging read, it’s not necessarily the kind of book you’ll find yourself constantly referring back to – it’s more of a “read straight through and enjoy the ride” experience (hence the not-very-high dog ear index). Swisher’s intimate knowledge of the industry, combined with her refusal to be dazzled by tech’s reality distortion field, makes for an invaluable perspective on how we got here and where we might be heading.

* Rating: 4.5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 6
* Who is it for: Anyone interested in tech history who prefers their truth served with a healthy side of wit; perfect for those tired of the usual fawning Silicon Valley narratives and ready for some clear-eyed criticism from someone who has been there for all of it.

hashtag#linkedinbookclubhashtag#bookshashtag#reviews

Talk about a contrast to last week’s read. To not bury the lede, Morgan Housel’s “Same as Ever” is not a good book. Which is a shame, because as a foresight professional living in a time of massive change, I was keenly interested in hearing his views on what ostensibly never changes.

What’s the good here? Well, it delivers numerous very basic lessons, and otherwise just doesn’t deliver. The points about benefits of inefficiency are, for example, very valid. Plenty of accurate things are said throughout the book, such as the observations about probability, importance of storytelling, and about the useful and even critical role inefficiency plays in many systems. Due to the brevity of the book, all of these are treated very superficially.

“Same as Ever” is structured as a collection of loosely (and clumsily) connected essays about various aspects of human nature and behavior that supposedly remain constant.

Spoiler: human nature is supposedly the unchanging thing. I would, however, push back on even that, and as evidence quote Steven Pinker; “As we care about more of humanity, we’re apt to mistake the harms around us for signs of how low the world has sunk rather than how high our standards have risen.”

One of the most frustrating aspects is the book’s tendency toward huge oversimplification, particularly when dealing with complex topics like inequality, poverty, and foresight. Housel often resorts to reductive explanations that completely ignore crucial nuance and context. Many of the views are not only simplistic, but also tone-deaf.

As a foresight professional his foresight treatise rubbed me the wrong way, which I fully concede might bias me against it. However, I don’t think he knows what foresight is – he uses the word, but it’s painfully clear he doesn’t understand the concepts, the tools, or even the basic approach of strategic foresight. His conflation of scenario planning with mere guesswork demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of how organizations can prepare for uncertain futures.

I should also note that the very beginning of the book delivers a story that is clearly deeply personal for Morgan, but unfortunately both the facts in the story and the delivery of that story left me troubled and, to be perfectly honest, with a certain dislike of the author.

There’s also factual errors; there’s misinformed views of poverty and happiness; there are downright bizarre statements; and there are contradictions – e.g., on page 17, he points out COVID-19 was a “surprise, on virtually no one’s radar until it arrived” and then on page 76 goes to say how “epidemiologists had been warning something like COVID-19 could happen for years” – in other words, it was on plenty of radars.

* Rating: 2 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 8.3, which seems high, but is mostly for some memorable short quotes
* Who is it for: Um. Maybe just don’t read it? I know this will come as a relief to some readers 😉

As the first book I’ve read in 2025, “Working for the Brand” sets an intimidatingly high bar for the rest of the year. A local Melburnian lawyer, Josh Bornstein, has written a meticulously researched exposé that shines a bright, cutting, and revealing floodlight onto how corporations and other organizations sacrifice individuals at the altar of brand protection.

Bornstein brings both legal expertise and moral clarity to examining how corporations systematically suppress employee speech – and behaviour – while demanding absolute loyalty to hopelessly vague and contradictory values and contractual clauses designed to trap. The hypocrisy is staggering – organizations that loudly champion free speech in public quietly muzzle their employees through expansive, subjective contract clauses that can change at a moment’s notice.

One of the most confronting aspects are the case studies where individuals faced severe consequences for merely expressing an opinion that proved unpopular in the wrong circles. Throughout the book, there are many instances where organizations abandoned basic ethics and sacrificed their people to online mob justice rather than risk brand damage. And those overt cases are only the tip of the iceberg – the broader damage to societies comes from the inhibition effect of impossibly vague and often self-contradictory rules employees are subjected to, up to and including signing off some basic human rights by virtue of signing an employment contract.

Many years ago, I also inadvertently dipped my toes into this pool as I received an urgent “cut it out”-call from the Comms department for live-tweeting facts at an industry conference. I did, at the time, cut it out, and reading about all these experiences makes me think I was simultaneously lucky and cowardly for doing so.

As the ridiculously high dog-ear index will tell you, there would be far more points to talk about here than I have room for here. In technical terms, it’s all just quite fucked-up.

One disturbing facet is how this corporate misbehavior represents another thread in the unraveling of democratic discourse. When organizations can effectively control not just their employees’ work speech but their entire public (and sometimes even private) presence, we’ve crossed a dangerous line. The fact that these restrictions are often enforced through vague concepts like “bringing the organization into disrepute” makes them even more pernicious.

I’d like to say this book is a warning about the future of free speech, but it’s more of an alarm of a situation where that’s already been dramatically curtailed. No matter your primary role in our society, Bornstein’s points demand attention.

* Rating: 5 out of 5
* Dog-ear index: 15.6 + 14 secondary bottom-corner dog ears, which is frankly getting a little ridiculous. Could’ve just as well dog-eared the whole thing.
* Who is it for: everyone? There’s no getting around the fact that the issues talked about here touch all of us.

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