The most recommended books about Western culture

When I was a student I found this book an inspiration. Beautifully written, it brings out deep affinities between the poetry and ideas of Wordsworth, Shelley, and other poets in England and the idealist philosophers in Germany, and the ways both groups rewrote the cosmic ideas of Christianity and ancient esoteric systems. It continually sets off sparks with its surprising comparisons. In the fifty years since it appeared, scholars have complained about how many writers the book leaves out, but given that its theme is “The High Romantic Argument” and not all of Romanticism, I am still impressed by how much it takes in.

What makes The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg unforgettable is the genre mash-up and the story’s poignancy.

It combines two disparate genres--western historical fiction and futuristic sci-fi romance. Mars is being colonized. Tasked with providing law and order are cyborg rangers riding their sentient robotic horses. While cyborgs play critical roles in the settling of Mars, they are considered less than human and are denied the same rights as regular citizens. When they meet their human heroine and fall in love they rediscover their humanity.

So well written and crafted, this story leaves a lasting impression on the reader.

This recommendation returns to one of my most passionate interests—that of adopted children and the families they are placed in. Beatty is a poet and this is reflected in her memoir—it is not the usual chronological narrative as most memoirs are. She breaks the myth of the “special” or “chosen baby” to tell her truth of the lives of adopted children. Beatty exposes, through vignettes and her poetry, her meetings with her birth mother, her adopted family, her attempts to know who she is and where she came from. She breaks open the belief that you can “create” a perfect family using children from other birth mothers, when all her life, she feels, is a lie and she has no grounding in the world. This memoir is her quest to find out who she is.

Bhog’s Sehgal saga takes you to the world of India’s mega-rich. Kabier Sehgal returns to India to take over the running of Sehgal Systems from his grandfather, Janak Sehgal. Janak is a loveable grandfather figure, who keeps a close eye on his grandchildren and is a mentor to many of their friends too. Keya Karia is one of the trio known as Janak’s Angels, the other being Sheena Sehgal and Raashi Dewan. In this enemy-to-lover romance, Kabier suspects Keya of selling company secrets, but their instant chemistry plays havoc with their lives. As Sheena’s wedding nears, they admit their feelings. Bhog’s books take you to the world of found families and the joy of lifelong friendships and to the world of crazy rich South Asians.

I should preface this with some bit of transparency. One reason I love Tinsmith is because I personally know the author. Not only is she a great writer, but she’s one of the only female tinsmiths working in the United States. She makes her own cookware, and it is amazing.

The main character, Marie Kotlarczyk, moves to the Dakota territories with her tinsmith family. When the family encounters disaster, Marie has to learn the family trade in order to survive. It’s not an easy task when women were not meant to do such things. 

Sarah puts so much of herself in this book, it’s enchanting. Since she’s a professional tinsmith, every scene is tangible. I can’t recommend it enough.

"Like the Bible, In Search of Lost Time embodies its own sources, myths, and criticism. Like an archaeological site, the novel has come to stand for a state of civilization.” Roger Shattuck is masterful in reach and insight; his “field guide” is aptly named. The reader journeys alongside him to traverse the vast and incomparable terrain of a seven-volume novel. Full of wit and provocation, he leads us through thick and thin, and best of all, he allows our own reading of the great work to revive within us, illuminating the very experience of reading that Proust so brilliantly mined.

No one writes quite like Simon Schama. This is a sprawling epic of a book, global in its sweep. 

It ranges from the Polish-Lithuanian forests, where bison roam oblivious of centuries of human conflict and suffering, to the Orinoco, in Walter Raleigh’s doomed and bloody footsteps, to the grandeur (or hubris?) of Mount Rushmore. Much of it, however, concerns the tangled threads of myth and collective memory that haunt the English landscape. 

As someone born in Nottingham and brought up on Robin Hood, I particularly enjoyed the chapters on the medieval greenwood. Schama’s erudition and range of examples are dazzling. Throughout, he argues that Western civilization, far from being fundamentally antagonistic to nature as some have claimed, is permeated with rich, powerful and persistent myths of nature and landscape. 

This book is a lantern, shining light into all sorts of hidden spaces.

Joan Sutherland uses koans to undertake a spiritual and literary journey and shows us how to listen to the world and how to attend to our own lives.

A koan is a gate, and we often stop or feel imprisoned by habits and history on one side. Walking through the door is like taking a problem into a wide meadow. Suddenly, you see distant mountains, there are bees in the flowers, and you hear the water of a stream babbling over stones. The voice of a cuckoo calls.

Joan Sutherland is co-founder of the Pacific Zen School and explains, guides, and teaches through consistently wonderful words. Stories of this sort are spells; they cast charms and magic. 

This book engages with questions of violence, suffering, and cultural value both in terms of literature and critical debate.

Eagleton asks us to consider how society may invest in and elsewhere venerate certain kinds of experience (e.g., inflicting pain, victimisation, witnessing destruction), which initially we may expect to be demonised.

Nelson’s book is a revelation in how it explores the work that both religion and popular culture can do – her readings of Lovecraft’s work are particularly evocative. I’m not on board with the sharp line she draws between high and low culture, but it’s one of those books that’s fascinating even when you disagree with it.