The best books that make you wish you could talk to animals

This surprising novel is full of paradox in all the best ways. The characters are both extraordinary and relatable, the many revelations simultaneously stunning and inevitable, and the overall impact heartwarming and heartbreaking in equal measure.

I love a good mystery, and this book opens with a compelling one—what’s turned Rosemary Cooke from a happy and talkative young girl into a taciturn and troubled college student? Even she isn’t sure. 

The answer involves a chimpanzee as intelligent as she is unforgettable, whom I couldn’t stop thinking about for weeks after finishing the book, who blew open my understanding of what it means to be related.

I’ve long believed that animals are smarter than we give them credit for, and in this book, Frans de Waal provides a fascinating, science-based explanation of why that’s the case. Even more compelling, he provides evidence that the reason we’ve so often underestimated animals’ intelligence has nothing to do with their limitations and everything to do with our own.

Whether it’s the parrot who can add sums, dolphins who call each other by name, or the researcher whose fidgeting caused the capuchin monkeys he was studying to underperform, de Waal offers both an entertaining read and a critical question: How much are animals capable of that we aren’t capable of perceiving?

Who hasn’t dreamt of being able to converse with a wolf? We get our chance in this intriguing story of Fitz Farseer, my all-time favorite character.

There’s much to enjoy in this series—royal assassins, secret mentors, and family betrayal—but what I love most is the outlawed magic that creates a deep bond between Fitz and a fearless wolf named Nighteyes, allowing them to communicate.

Nighteyes, another favorite character, reminds me of my childhood golden retriever, only with sharper fangs and claws. He reveals exactly how much we’re missing out on when we can’t converse with animals like him—sharing their sharper perceptions, grasping the wolfishly obvious, or having our human foolishness pointed out in their bluntly canine way.

There’s a hidden world within our own that's stranger than the best-written fantasy. We humans can't perceive it, but various other animals can, and this book opens the door to it.

Birds see hundreds of millions of colors our eyes can’t. Ants use chemicals we can’t detect to call massive gatherings and spread alarms. Fire-chaser beetles sense heat from fires dozens of miles away.  

The impossible desire to perceive the world in these astonishing ways makes me want to stop every passing butterfly to ask what it’s like to taste things with your feet. Of course, I can’t, so I’ll satisfy myself by enjoying Ed Yong’s thorough research, vivid descriptions, and clever commentary and letting my imagination run wild.

In most stories, animals don’t exist for their own reasons—their purpose is simply to serve the needs of the main characters or the machinations of the plot. In Barn 8, however, chickens not only have agency and their own raison d’etre, but they catalyze every single major turn of events.

I love the premise—a group of unlikely activists decides to free the million-plus chickens suffering on an egg farm—and its quirky, clever style. But the best part is the chickens at the heart of the tale. Unferth gets inside their heads, showing their loyalty and love, their distinctive personalities, and their undeniable, fierce intelligence.

It's a captivating glimpse into the inner world of extraordinary animals who deserve to be the heroes of their own stories.