The most recommended books about scientists

Even prior to reading this book, I casually considered Alexander von Humboldt to be one of my geographical heroes, a workaholic as addicted to adventure as he was obsessed with advancing our understanding of the planet.

However, Wulf’s book opened my eyes not only to the sheer extent of his contributions to how we view the world, from human-induced climate change to the development of increasingly accurate and informative maps and diagrams but also to his cultural and political significance, influencing politicians and inspiring poets to continue fashioning and representing the planet as they see fit.

In placing the founder of ecology and modern environmentalism centre-stage, this engaging biography extols Humboldt’s revolutionary understanding of how the natural and human worlds are interconnected and helps us appreciate how our relationship with the planet can be scientific and emotional simultaneously. 

Germ is an intriguing look at how a plague can be weaponized. We follow the bio-terrorist act of a modified form of Ebola that targets people of a specific genetic makeup. Ebola scares the hell out of me because it really exists and pockets of it still spring up around the world. I loved this book for how descriptive it was and how real it felt. This book isn’t so well known, but it deserves more attention. If you liked The Andromeda Strain or if you just want a somewhat gross (ebola is a messy disease!), thriller-type story you’ll enjoy this one.

The Outside is a gripping sci-fi novel with a queer autistic protagonist, written by an autistic author who perfectly conveys the flavor of autistic thinking. This one’s set far in the future, in a galaxy-spanning theocracy ruled by powerful artificial intelligences that have set themselves up as gods. Scientist Yasira Shien has developed a brilliant new energy drive. The problem? Turns out the drive taps into an extradimensional reality called the Outside, which, true to its name, exists outside ordinary spacetime—and which is capable of spilling over catastrophically into the material world. Highly original world-building blended with classic space opera. Compelling characters and a plot that had me hooked all the way. Oh, and it’s the first book in a trilogy!

I’m the daughter of two scientists, and this book was deeply important to me when I first read it. It helped me understand my parents’ passion for and pursuit of botanical knowledge. Many of the characters in this collection (a novella and stories) are fictional botanists, but historical figures appear in several stories. For instance, “The English Pupil” features an elderly Carl Linnaeus and explores themes of botany and regret.

The academic world began to dismantle the idea that there had always been a conflict between science and history about 50 years ago, but this book was one of the first to try and tell that story more widely.

It isn’t all one-sided. The authors dismantle some other popular "harmony" myths too (e.g., that Einstein believed in a personal God or that Quantum Physics proves free will), but for the most part, the myths they take apart–that mediaeval world thought the world was flat, or that the Church denounced anaesthesia on biblical grounds–are the ones that have lodged the idea of warfare in our cultural mind without justification.

I have rarely felt a compulsion to turn the pages of a book as quickly as I did while reading this book. I grew up as a huge fan of Jurassic Park and read this book many years later with little idea of what to expect.

The claustrophobic surroundings and relentless tension made this a very fast book to read, but the philosophical considerations made sure it is one that has stayed in my mind ever since.

James Rollins weaves wild and wonderful tales throughout this series, but this book struck me at my core with the facts he used. Would you find it odd that the Catholic Church canonized a witch? What lengths would an organization, religious or otherwise, go to rule humanity? A being that can use information to save humanity may not be alive at all. Or is it alive? Is she alive? Would a religious organization want an AI to control their agenda, or would they want to destroy it because it could become God like? That entity may have other plans. All these questions were weaved into a wonderful story that at times had me wanting the AI to win. At the same time, I was frightened it would.

I have been a fan of Gothic and melodrama since I first watched the 1931 film Frankenstein with Boris Karloff–and I was delighted to discover that the book is even better and so much more than what we’ve ever seen on screen.

Frankenstein’s monster is articulate and soulful in Mary Shelley’s atmospheric, dread-filled original novel, and his plight is all the more moving because of it. She wrote it when she was just 18 years old, still grieving over the death of her first child two years earlier. I feel her aching sorrow on every page. 

Quicksilver, Volume One of the Baroque Cycle is an amazing novel and not for those who like quick reads. At nearly 1,000 erudite pages it depicts the lives and confusions of natural philosophers between the years 1660 and 1713 at the dawn of the scientific revolution. Robert Hooke, Isaac Newton, King Charles II, and many others fill the pages with wit, history, avarice, sex, political duplicity, religious prejudice, and wars that seem to pop up by whim. 

The sheer volume of historical research evident in Quicksilver eclipses all other works of the genre. The number of “throw away” lines that reveal deeper research and add but a thought or two to the current narrative is awesome. This is rapture for a bibliophile. Mr. Stephenson is a genius.

Most books about grief deal specifically with the death of a loved one, but grief isn’t just about death—it’s about major loss. For some of us that might mean the loss of a friendship or relationship or job. In this book, the main character is facing the loss of a lifelong dream.

Despite what TV shows and self-help books tell us, success is not a simple matter of dedication and hard work. Sometimes we don’t achieve our dreams, and stories like this remind us that "failure" is okay, that we have options, that we can choose to pursue the thing we love in a different way, or choose to love something else, or maybe we'll have to take a break to heal and reflect before we choose anything at all. The universe might steal away a dream, but we remain in charge of our happiness.