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Andrew Gelman passed along this now nearly twenty-year old list of what at that time were among his favorite non-fiction books:
How to talk so kids will listen and listen so kids will talk, by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. I read this book long before I had kids—it’s incredibly helpful for interactions with adults as well. It’s definitely #1 on my list: a book that really changed my life.
How animals work, by Knut Schmidt-Nielsen. What can I say—this is cool stuff. Physics really works.
Low life, by Luc Sante. This one needs no introduction, I think. I happened to read it around when it came out–I’m not sure how I encountered it—and what struck me was its utter deadpan tone.
The honest rainmaker, by A. J. Liebling. I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff. Although it should probably be classified as fiction.
Life on the Mississippi, by Mark Twain. OK, it’s basically fiction too, also has some dead spots, but still has a great treatment of one of my favorite themes, which is that so much that seems permanent is not.
The last laugh, by Phil Berger. Doesn’t really belong in this list—it’s good, but probably not great—but it’s my favorite of the books I’ve finished lately.
That reminds me, by Tony Randall. No kidding. The only way this book could be improved would be to have some indicator of which of the stories are actually true.
Plagues and peoples, by William McNeill. Understanding history in terms of micro- and macro-parasitism. May seem obvious now, maybe could be updated, but as far as I know was pretty trailblazing. Full of fun facts.
The origins of the second world war, by A.J.P. Taylor. Compulsively readable, also seems (to this non-expert) to be full of insight.
Baseball’s greatest quotations, by Paul Dickson. OK, not really in the top 200 even, but I wanted to include something by this charming nonfiction writer.
Ball four, by Jim Bouton. This one really does belong on the list. (I’d also like to include the Bill James abstracts, but I’m not sure which ones to pick, and they have weaknesses as well as strengths. I’ll save them for my list of the best statistics books ever.)
The death and life of great American cities, by Jane Jacobs. OK, another classic–sorry, the list is getting less and less idiosyncratic.
Judgment under uncertainty: heuristics and biases, edited by Daniel Kahneman, Paul Slovic, and Amos Tversky. An amazingly good book with an incredible quality level, especially considering it’s an edited volume.
The great war and modern memory, by Paul Fussell. After this one he got crankier and crankier, but this one is essential.
The thing about this kind of list is that when there are a couple of books on it that would be on mine as well — in this case The Great War and Modern Memory, which is really amazing on multiple levels, and Ball Four, which we discussed at length yesterday — it makes me want to explore others on it that I don’t know. The Death and Life of Great American Cities is something I’ve been meaning to read for about 40 years now (ouch), and The Origins of the Second World War is in that same slightly embarrassing category. Gelman says Low Life needs no introduction but I might just barely have heard of it, although I did read a very interesting interview with the author — now Lucy Sante — recently, so I should definitely check that one out.
This brings the following question to mind: If you’ve just fallen in love or made a new best friend or ideally both, what is the ONE book you would recommend to that person, in the hope of conveying exactly why it has been so important to you? (Can be either fiction or non-fiction.). ETA: OK it can up to three books, but four is right out.