Non-Fiction Recommendations for 2023
*disclaimer: after compiling these reviews, I realised Islands of Abandonment and Otherlands did not publish in 2023, like the others (some of which refer to paperback publication, as with Life Time). Considering both are still relevant, I’ve kept these recommendations on the list.
Islands of Abandonment by Cal Flyn
Islands of Abandonment is an ethereal, slick and stylishly written exploration of locations around the globe which have been abandoned by humankind, and subsequently reclaimed by the natural world.
What happens when an area or city is deserted by humans? What is the current state of Chernobyl, a place frequently considered unoccupiable due to its dangerously high levels of radiation? Or areas deemed unfit for habitation due to elemental hazards, such as the volcanic regions of the Caribbean?
In Islands of Abandonment, Flyn traverses ‘life in the post-human landscape’, holding the reader’s hand every step of the way like a trustful tour guide: ‘in the coming chapters I offer you the stories of twelve locations around the world … each offer their own flavour of melancholy and hope’. This feels like a carefully curated list of locations which resonate with Flyn both viscerally and contextually. Her twofold analysis of each urban-turned-rural area enriches the text and creates the impression that Flyn has painstakingly explored these places on behalf of the reader, revealing the haunting (perhaps literally) beauty of these locations left behind by humankind… Often for the better.
The book is full of fascinating revelations. One in particular that struck a chord with me is that we could see in our lifetimes a reversal of deforestation – a third of the world’s forests are transforming and growing, in a state of forest transition. This fact is in stark contrast to the doom and gloom finality of many apocalyptic narratives suggesting damage is irreversible. In this vein, this book – like another on the list, Otherlands – reveals that nature is capable of bouncing back with incredible velocity, provided we offer that leeway. We may envision these locations as frozen in time since we last intervened, a city such as Chernobyl little more than a ghost town haunted by memories, and yet life that was previously unable to occupy these habitats due to human disruption finally has the chance to flourish.
Another key element of this book is that we aren’t receiving an omniscient perspective of these locations – instead, it’s the first-person viewpoint of Flyn herself. The style is narrative, personal, her own vulnerabilities highlighted by the heightened awareness of her physical body – with all its limitations – in the presence of other sentient beings. For instance, the introduction describes a stark image of animals challenging Flyn for disturbing their peace, in a way that almost feels like a homage to Hitchcock’s The Birds. The book is brim-full with poetic prose that captures how the ground felt beneath her feet, the sounds of wildlife, the smells and sights, sensually stimulating and thus lingering in the reader’s mind long after reading. She’s a phenomenal writer and at times this feels like a travel memoir, particularly as she describes her encounters with various characters along the way – from eccentric locals to likeminded conservationists – all of which captures the essence of escapism via expedition, of a lone traveller wandering the big wide world and marvelling at all it has to offer.
Of course, the journey is also a poignant one: while some locations have been reclaimed by nature in such a way as to restore faith in the ecological order of the world, others are bleak, desolate, in despair. And her final location is the epitome of this latter category: the Salston Sea, which originated due to the Colorado River flooding, and which through a series of ecological changes has become dangerously toxic, killing millions of marine life. (It’s now considered one of the greatest environmental disasters in Californian history.) Even in such dire circumstances, Flyn provides delicately balanced commentary on how these strange places came to be through immoral atrocities: ‘nuclear meltdown, toxic contamination, stalemate warfare, political and social collapse’... Yet she still retains hope.
I suppose my only minor critique is that the book perhaps lacks a sense of an overriding purpose through visiting these locations beyond the clear environmental concerns of the particularly desolate zones, identifying an urgent trend connecting them all that highlights why now, in particular, we need to examine how these places have fared since we left, and even intervene. However, in a way, that’s the charm of this book – which, as it turns out, presents the alternative that it may be best if, rather than always defaulting to action, we leave these places be. ‘Our collective guilt over man’s impact upon the environment can, I feel, propel us in the direction of over-treatment, based on an assumption that we know what’s best for damaged habitats, and that it’s better to do something than nothing at all.’
Even the title, Islands of Abandonment, captures the mystery of these disturbingly beautiful hybrids of manufactured infrastructures-turned-ecosystems. This book does not necessarily provide answers, but it asks many questions of the reader who will likely take that inquisitive curiosity with them, seeing the environments we’ve essentially hijacked with little regard for the life we share it with, via a fresh perspective and with newfound appreciation.
‘This latency of life. It drifts around us all the time, invisible, like an aether. It’s in the air we breathe, the water we drink. Savour it: each breath, each sip is thick with potential. In this cup of nothing, the germ of everything.’
Life Time by Russell Foster
Life Time is a groundbreaking book on how circadian rhythms affect essentially every aspect of our life, from health to productivity to sleep.
At some point in your life, you’ve likely declared yourself an ‘early bird’ or a ‘night owl’. Yet beyond these arbitrary categories, the time of day typically doesn’t factor into how we evaluate productivity, or choose to exercise, or consume a snack. Instead, our biological circadian rhythm isn’t typically taken into account beyond the time we rest our head on our pillow, associated solely with sleeping routines.
But what if our body is always intuitively regulating time, and behaving accordingly during waking hours, to the extent that even the time of day we receive a vaccination can alter its potency? (Spoiler alert: the optimal time is late morning, which is when our immune system peaks.)
Russell Foster has collated over ten years of research, the result of which is a highly entertaining and educational read. This book is packed full of brilliant tips for navigating our daily life – including how to offset jet lag via light exposure, according to whether you’ve travelled East or West – alongside commonly overlooked aspects of our routines. For instance, social jet lag is shown to be ‘a mismatch between when our circadian system would like to wake us up and when we are forced out of bed due to social demands such as work, school or DST’ (Daylight Saving Time, hence when the clocks go backwards in Autumn and forwards in Spring, which is proved to be more detrimental to our health and productivity than beneficial).
Another fascinating insight about time zones relates to Greenwich Mean Time, which was the result of ‘social time’, constructed largely due to the railway system requiring fixed times to schedule trains, and applies the average time when the sun is highest above the horizon in Greenwich to several European countries. Leading on from this, some other time zones have been artificially modified due to country borders, meaning that although China spans five geographical time zones, Beijing Time is the only official national standard time. This means that within the city of Kashgar, situated far West, the sun can be highest in the sky around three in the afternoon…!
Foster also explores the intricate mechanics of our body and how it’s capable of monitoring its circadian clock. In fact, even those who’re blind are able to biologically interpret the time of day, as photoreceptors in the eye can still sense light particles. Considering our sensitivity to circadian rhythms, it’s almost impossible to fully adjust to night shift work, which is sadly shown to have the highest correlation with disease and accidents at work.
This book features a delightfully accessible conversational tone, as cutting-edge research is relayed with witticism and confident authority, and Foster is a notably charming narrator, peppering the pages with anecdotal references and bemused observations as though conversing with a dear friend. What stands out about this excellent book is that nearly every page of content provides information directly applicable to the general reader. Whereas other books on this list explore forgotten lands or ponder the great existential questions of the universe, this book will undoubtedly resonate as it provides immediately implementable tips on how to live harmoniously with our internal clock.
Although this book is masterful at keeping the reader’s best interests at the forefront of its content, my attention did wane during the chapter on drug use. As someone who isn’t on prescription medication, who had consumed so much scientific knowledge via earlier pages, it was tricky to feel as engaged. I wonder if this chapter could have been moved to the appendix, with a concluding paragraph for the previous chapter pointing towards this information. (Speaking of the appendix, this includes the excellent feature of a questionnaire, which just goes to show the extent to which the book encourages active engagement on the part of the reader.) Or, perhaps a brief disclaimer that this chapter is still relevant even if not on medication, as it’s statistically probable that later in life prescription drugs will become part of your routine. Maybe the book could even feature more interwoven commentary on the consequences of cultural norms at a population level, and the mismatch that exists between our biology and social constructs, thus indicating the importance of highlighting our collective behaviour. Earlier books on this list demonstrate that readers can indeed by captivated and moved by content which has little to do with their immediate circumstances.
However as the established tone for this particular book is essentially reader-facing, this may alter its overall narrative, and I should emphasise that this is a very minor critique of an otherwise exceptional read. It’s a delight that the book is so rich with facts – this is one I shall very much look forward to subsequently dipping in and out of for fresh discoveries.
I believe a future-facing epilogue is a necessity for a non-fiction read covering social sciences, including how the hypothetical implementation of the author’s advice can have a positive impact on the reader’s life. On this front, Life Time does not disappoint. The epilogue is a perfect balance of science and author commentary, reflecting on what it means to be human and looking to a future where our understanding of the circadian clock enables longer, happier lives. The tone of the book is ultimately optimistic, and it’s a nice touch to hear Foster’s passion about his latest laboratory discoveries alongside his team in Oxford (including light ‘mimicking’ drugs), being privy to the excitement he feels when on the brink of uncovering new data – he even points the reader towards further resources – and stresses it is his ‘earnest hope, and primary motivation, that those voices you have heard … describing the impact of SCRD resulting from blindness or neurodevelopmental disease, will represent a historical account, and not a lived experience in the coming years.’ If we take heed of Foster’s words, then this feels a very real possibility.
Otherlands by Thomas Halliday
Otherlands is a revelatory book unveiling and reconstructing prehistoric eras teeming with life, exploring the miraculous trajectory of nature free from human influence.
In Otherlands, the planet’s natural history is told through vivid reconstructions of past eras. Halliday traces geographical regions, with detailed maps as reference points, and each chapter begins with a sensual and lyrical description of that particular time and place in its natural state, both peaceful and lively. Halliday deftly weaves incredible descriptions with contextual scene setting and his own observations applicable to our present, including our impact on, and relationship with, the natural world.
What is unique about this book is that we learn through vividly imaginative reconstructions of each environment. Halliday does not display favouritism: no animal is too great or small for their plight to be described, unpacking each creature’s mode to survive – from hunting techniques to acclimatised anatomy, the product of evolutionary adaptation. At times, the book reads like the transcript for an Attenborough series – and it’s all the more enticing, as a result. We learn all eras are intertwined both historically and geographically through Halliday’s commentary linking each one to modern day, and despite extinct species being long-gone, the impact of their existence ripples through to the present.
The breadth and scope of Halliday’s research, coupled with his accomplished prose, is astonishing. This is hardcore science brought to life, reconstructing extraordinary beings from found fossils in such a way that is a testament to Halliday’s imagination. His bold decision to move back through time, revealing an increasingly more alien and unfamiliar world, is especially impactful and almost unnerving at times, as we grow less certain as to what we’ll encounter, forced to confront just how little we know about our planet, and how brief our existence has been.
Our planet is shown to be resilient and cyclical, and yet there’s impermanence to all that shapes our understanding of the world, from the landscapes we see to the plants that thrive to our own species. However, Otherlands clarifies that we possess the benefit of seeing how ecosystems that came before us collapsed. Unlike other sentient beings who depended on habitat and evolution to survive, we have developed technology to aide us and so can adapt in unprecedented ways. As Halliday himself states: ‘In mapping the past, we can predict the future’.
So what of said future? If we are willing to make the necessary adjustments we are more than capable of due to our man-made advantages, then Halliday believes we could, indeed, enter this new era alongside the natural world. In fact, one of the final chapters reveals nature’s incredible ability to coexist with humankind’s unnatural modifications to its environment, given that we are now seeing the first examples of microbes evolved to solely consume plastic. (Islands of Abandonment pleads a similar case.) This could be a major milestone in our efforts to address one of our urgent global crises – although Halliday does stress that it’s important to bear in mind the degree of damage we are inflicting upon the planet isn’t sustainable. In fact, the book actually argues the benefit of humans as natural ecosystem engineers, and that it is instead the degree to which we intervene which should perhaps be determined and encouraged by conservationists. Again, much like Islands suggests, moderation could be the key factor.
Ultimately, we need to enter into a mutual relationship with our environment in which we respond to its developing ecosystems and adjust our use of its resources, and contribution to the biosphere, accordingly. Much as the planet adapts to us, we owe the same in return. That is the greatest way to ensure our survival, and facilitate a habitat where we can all thrive.
In Halliday’s own words: ‘In ecology, nothing is completely isolated. Everywhere, always, life is built upon life.’
All the Beauty in the World by Patrick Bringley
A profound first-hand account of life as a museum guard at The Met, the astounding beauty that exists within its walls, and how human experiences, particularly grief, unite us all.
When Patrick Bringley’s brother Tom passed away from cancer, he didn’t want to process his grief and move on. Instead, he wanted to fully accept his loss, acknowledge that his brother was once a part of the world and now was not. As such, rather than keep up with its hectic pace, he chose to escape the life he knew and retreat to a place of sanctity for an undeterminable stretch of time: he took up a post as a museum guard at The Met. His extraordinary experience is relayed within these pages.
The exhibitions Bringley guards crackle with stories of long-gone societies, while colleagues from all walks of life portray a microcosm of talent. Descriptions of having the same conversations, wandering the same halls, captures the sense of a hauntingly beautiful purgatory. This is in stark contrast with the bustling outside world, populated by frequently self-absorbed individuals who pass by The Met unaware that within lies hundreds of years whittled down to these striking, majestic halls, putting their daily quibbles into awe-inspiring perspective. Delving into the historical and archaeological relics from former generations is further reminder of a singular, constant truth: life goes on.
Much like wandering around the Met itself, you can learn about various historic eras while soaking up the ambience – except, rather than enjoying the sensory adventure of pacing its glorious halls, we are able to savour Bringley’s meditative and poetic prose. So much of life evokes a sense of urgency, and yet Bringley does not have this problem: if anything, he is able to gradually absorb his surroundings. It almost mirrors an ancestral heightened approach to one’s environment, stripping away layers of social conditioning and instead returning to basics, relying on his eyes, ears, feet, hands, to feel his way through the hallways, and navigate this miraculous world within the world.
Although the book could easily focus solely on the experience of exploring the Met, Bringley delves into his own past which adds an extra dimension: each exhibition resonates not only because of the art itself, but due to his interpretation through the lens of the life he’s lived. Art is, undoubtedly, subjective, so to receive such an intimate account of Bringley’s perception is to feel astoundingly close to that which always evades us: to see the world through the eyes of another.
Through his perspective, we learn that we cannot completely detach ourselves from the art we view, as though passive observers. Art seeps through our cracks and touches the parts of us we protect from the outside world, and speaks to the universal experiences we can all relate to. Masterful artists are capable of capturing the feel and texture of these moments that transcend cultural, contextual, prejudicial, even historical barriers. These exhibitions capture the artists’ pain, with beauty born out of struggle, sorrow translated to reflect the adversity of the human spirit, even in those darkest hours. Bringley is reminded that his grief mirrors that of so many, yet equally has its unique flavour.
Another striking aspect of the book is that Patrick wants us to remember Tom, to feel him through the pages. This ties in beautifully to another extraordinary feature of art: that it grants the subject and artist immortality, capturing a piece of them forever in a way that surpasses our fleeting existence. This is an account of grief, but it’s also a gift to Tom, and to us, a reminder that our memories retain traces of the people whose lives we have touched, and vice versa, long after they are gone.
This book could be viewed as indulgent, considering that it moves at Bringley’s pace, reflecting the lack of direction he felt at this time. Yet by niching down, paradoxically, I actually think he has created a book that will resonate with everyone. It is that desire to tear away from social norms that may strike us all now and then, to wander as though free from the shackles of time, to exist outside of our routine and disappear into the hidden crevices of the world, to be a lone explorer, and to be so immersed in art and beauty as to lose oneself, if only for a moment. This special book possesses that ineffable quality of an art-piece that reveals newfound depth each time we revisit.
This book feels particularly unique, tonally and thematically. Typically, non-fiction recounts a specific series of events; or unpacks a somewhat familiar idea or concept; or presents a cutting-edge solution to a widespread problem.
All the Beauty fits into none of these categories. Instead, it feels like a reclamation of our individual and collective identity, our shared history, and our deeply intuitive connection to both art and the generations that came before us. Time after time, we love, we mourn, we create, we destroy, we turn the page and start afresh.
We are human, and this book is a testament to that experience.
On The Origin of Time by Thomas Hertog
An astonishingly accomplished book on modern physics and working with Hawking, from the perspective of his closest collaborator.
The late Stephen Hawking is considered one of the most intelligent individuals to have ever lived, and was undoubtedly well-known as an accomplished physicist who altered our perception of the universe thanks to his ground-breaking theories. In Time, we are given a first-hand account of what it is like to be in the presence of literal genius, from the POV of his friend and collaborator. Immediately, it is Hawking’s wit and casual tone of conversation that strikes a chord with the author, showing this mastermind’s willingness to engage and converse with Hertog. He displays a perhaps unusual degree of childlike wonder and curiosity about the universe: ‘Why is the universe the way it is? Why are we here? None of my physics teachers had ever spoken about physics and cosmology is such metaphysical terms’.
The book unpacks some of the leading theories in modern physics, from quantum cosmology to whether we live in a holographic universe. As someone who personally loves physics, I was gripped by these sections, even if at times a degree of awareness is assumed of the reader. If you enjoyed Rovelli’s Seven Brief Lessons on Physics, don’t expect this book to be quite as accessible, although to give Hertog credit he does often introduce a metaphor which makes some of the denser scientific theories easier to digest. For instance, suggesting the reader imagine their office space, or their bedroom, and how the probability of that space gradually becoming messier, with more belongings scattering surfaces, is likelier than it becoming tidier: thus entropy is explained.
When delving into complex scientific theories, the prose focuses solely on the relevant physicist, hypothesis and practice without reference to the author and to his relationship with Hawking. As such, the book educates to an enormous degree while neatly bookending each section via returning it once more to the present and Hawking’s interpretation and reflections on these teachings.
The timeliness of the book is reinstated in its concluding chapter, highlighting that our deepened understanding of, for instance, string theory, unveils a staggering number of potential realities. ‘The twenty-first century is that critical period in history in which we are beginning to unlock this immense realm’, and that rather than merely going through evolution, we have reached the juncture of being capable to engineer it, thus speeding up the rate of progression far beyond what we have witnessed over the previous thousands, millions, and indeed billions of years. This also gives rise to human-manufactured dangers such as nuclear weapons and AI, with potentially staggering consequences. ‘Britain’s Astronomer Royal Sir Martin Rees has estimated that taking all risks into account, there is only a 50 percent change that we will get through to 2100 without a disastrous setback.’ Fermi’s Paradox of why we have not yet encountered extra-terrestrial intelligence questions whether this is due to a future threat facing us if civilisation branches into the cosmos. As such, what future should we envision?
Hertog believes scientists and scholars should focus on advancements that greatly increase our odds of survival, from bioengineering to quantum technology, and I agree. Essentially, we cannot leave this crucial era up to chance.
‘We are agents within a constantly changing universe … Only by treasuring that we are stewards of planet Earth, and the finitude that comes with it, will we be able to avoid humanity pitting its many powers against itself.’
The book really does highlight just how extraordinary Stephen Hawking was. Yes, astoundingly intelligent. But also strong-willed and frequently optimistic, caring and considerate of those around him. He was a genius, but he was also human, and all the more relatable for it. The book shares his parting message, which was beamed into space during a memorial service on June 15, 2018, in Westminster Abbey: ‘When we see the earth from space we see ourselves as a whole; we see the unity and not the divisions. It is such a simple image, with a compelling message: one planet, one human race. Our only boundaries are the way we see ourselves. We must become global citizens. Let us work together to make that future a place we want to visit.’
How Westminster Works by Ian Dunt
A phenomenal breakdown of our government and the steps we could implement in order to improve democracy.
Dunt has compiled extensive research to explain, both for political fanatics and the general reader, how Westminster works and how deeply dysfunctional it is. This is an excellent examination of how we are governed, and the book deftly weaves accessible writing with technical terminology, maintaining a personable solution-oriented tone (as opposed to indulgent aimless criticism of our government). It unveils the extent to which modern politics boils down to treading water and putting out immediate fires, rather than implementing long-term strategies, and that, if anything, the process of elimination re. selecting politicians begins the chain reaction of disaster, given how little of it comes down to who is worthy of these titles, as opposed to who happens to fit ridiculous criteria. He also sheds light on the pendulum swing of politics, believing that radical change will fix underlying changes, appeasing the masses while not actually taking any productive action. That at the heart of politics is a lot of bravado and kneejerk action carried out due to a gut feeling, as opposed to evidentiary support and the consideration of compromise. As Dunt states, politics is ‘not about absolutes, it’s about trade-offs’.
Dunt leaves no stone unturned, allocating blame where due and revealing systemic problems lurking beneath vague politician-speak typically broadcast to the masses. Here, Dunt lays all bare, covering the key aspects of government and the flaws with each, from the vote, to the treasury, to the Civil Service, and astonishingly how the House of Lords (and select committees) potentially holds up as the most functioning component.
Dunt expertly strikes the fine balance between being an impassioned narrator and giving an accurate, level-headed account free from personal biases and political preferences. He offers level-headed and non-drastic solutions, those which require steady implementation over time, the very thing Westminster often attempts to race against. These include opening up candidate selection for MPs to the public, shifting the limiting practicalities of basing British government solely in one house, and reallocation of ministers’ workload. But without wanting to spoil all his suggestions, they are incredibly smart, well thought-out, and have the potential to provide long-term satisfaction, which could benefit the entire nation. It goes without saying, Dunt has written an extraordinary book.
Honourable Mentions:
The Earth Transformed by Peter Frankopan
An extraordinary deep dive into the direct impact of climate change on civilisations throughout history.
Outlive: The Science and Art of Longevity by Peter Attia
A brilliant breakdown of four of the leading causes of death, focusing on prevention as a way to lengthen lifespan.
The Future of Geography: How Power and Politics in Space Will Change Our World by Tim Marshall
Marshall’s riveting third book on geopolitics unpacks the ongoing space race, shifting the focus to ‘astropolitics’.
Philosophy and Life by A. C. Grayling
A thorough deep dive into philosophical principles and how they govern our lives, from Stoicism to existentialism.
Pax by Tom Holland
Although I have not yet finished reading, this is a gripping historical account of the Roman Empire ahead of the hotly anticipated The Rest is History book (a podcast which is equally highly recommended).
