As a rule, I don’t read a whole lot of nonfiction. What I did read last year was mostly entertainment or education-related. And yet, almost every time I see someone on The Daily Show promoting a book, I think, “hey, that sounds interesting. I might want to read that.”
So I’m looking for your recommendations. What irresistible nonfiction is out there waiting for me?
I recently read 2 interesting non-fiction books which is really odd for me. I love fiction!
Marriage, A History by Stephanie Coontz was a great historical look at marriage and how it’s changed over the years. I really enjoyed it. It was a little dry in places though.
I read part of Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. Very psychological view on how and why we are happy. A little too textbooky for me, but through provoking.
A long time ago I read Call of the Mall by Paco Underhill. Really awesome book. Especially since I love to shop. Gave me a lot of insight to how malls are built and traps they are planning for you to fall for.
Happy Birthday or Whatever by Annie Choi and The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls. The first is a funny set of essays (her blog is Annietown, if you wanna check it out). The second is an amazing memoir. It defies words.
I’ve also heard good things about A Piece of Cake by Cupcake Brown, I think it is. I also have Girlbomb here to read but I sent a surprise copy to Theryn, who’s already read it & can tell you more about it.
And surely you’ve read some David Sedaris, right?
I’ll second the “surely you’ve read some David Sedaris, right?” sentiment.
For short essays a la Sedaris, I would also recommend anything by Laurie Notaro and/or Sarah Vowell. If you like dogs, you might like Dog Is My CoPilot and Howl, both by the editors of Bark Magazine.
Other suggestions:
The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell
Sister Bernadette’s Barking Dog by Kitty Burns Florey (very short)
The autobiographical books of Dave Pelzer are incredibly moving, but sometimes tough to read due to the abuse he suffered. There are three of them, I think, starting with A Child Called It.
Awakening the Buddha Within by Lama Surya Das
The Joy of Sex (hey, it’s nonfiction!)
It’s Not About the Bike by Lance Armstrong
What’s the Matter with Kansas by Thomas Frank
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer
How’s that for starters?
NO NOTARO! I pawned off the only Notaro book I bought on Erin & I don’t think she liked it either. It was “Okay, I’m going to tell you this story. But first you need to hear this. Oh but wait here’s something I forgot. Okay back to the original oh but I forgot this okay and here’s an ending. Am I funny yet? Please think I’m funny. I’ll try harder next time. Or not. But here’s a punchline that means nothing.”
But Sarah Vowell, yes đŸ˜‰
You know, a friend of mine dislikes Notaro, too, but I found her essays amusing. She’s no Sedaris, but she kept me entertained.
Yeah, I’m totally with Eden on Notaro.
I’ve read some Sedaris, of course, and quite enjoyed it. I didn’t finish the new one though. I’m not sure if I just wasn’t in the mood, but the essays I did read just didn’t seem to be grabbing me the way his older stuff did.
One I got for Christmas (wanted dearly) was The Irregulars, about Roald Dahl & his time in the British secret service. He was a spy, here…and apparently a lot of that time was spent sleeping his way through the elite. When compliaining about a woman’s sexual appetite, he was told to ‘close his eyes & think of England’. I kid not.
http://www.amazon.com/Irregulars-Roald-British-Wartime-Washington/dp/0743294580/ref=wl_it_dp?ie=UTF8&coliid=I2MDZUFMQN2HHT&colid=1AIFCPUTXA2DV
OK, you’ve probably read “And The Band Played On” by now because it was written over 20 years ago, but I have to mention it because I think it is the most moving nonfiction book I have ever read. Bring Kleenex.
Any of Stephen Jay Gould’s many collections of essays.
“Dreams From my Father”. I was surprised to find it wasn’t at all about politics. I find it amazing that a politician — even a future politician — could have written such an incredibly honest book. I happen to have a few quotes I can cut and paste to whet your appetite:
“Mr. Barack,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind if I give you a little bit of advice. You don’t have to take it, now, but I’m gonna give it to you anyhow. Forget about this organizing business and do something that’s gonna make you some money. Not greedy, you understand. But enough. I’m telling you this ’cause I can see potential in you. Young man like you, got a nice voice — hell, you could be one a them announcers on TV. Or sales — got a nephew about your age making some real money there… Don’t waste your youth, Mr. Barack.”
All my life, I had carried a single image of my father… The brilliant scholar, the generous friend, the upstanding leader… Except for that one brief visit in Hawaii, he had never been present to foil that image… I hadn’t seen what perhaps most men see at some point in their lives: their father’s body shrinking, their father’s best hopes dashed, their father’s face lined with grief and regret… It was into my father’s image, the black man, son of Africa, that I’d packed all the attributes I sought in myself, the attributes of Martin and Malcolm, DuBois and Mandela…. Now, as I sat in the glow of a single light bulb, rocking slightly on a hard-backed chair, that image had suddenly vanished. Replaced by what? A bitter drunk? An abusive husband? A defeated, lonely bureaucrat? … The king is overthrown, I thought. The emerald curtain is pulled aside.
Watching the green Grinch on the television screen, intent on ruining Christmas, eventually transformed by the faith of the doe-eyed creatures who inhabited Whoville, I saw it for what is was: a lie.
We’d walk past hard-faced, soft-bodied streetwalkers into a small, dark bar with a jukebox and a couple of pool tables… I would sit at the bar… looking at the pornographic art on
the walls — the phosphorescent women on animal skins, the Disney characters in compromising positions.