Fans pick 100 books like Contemporary Psychoanalysis and Eastern Thought

MacGregor’s book blew my mind when I first read it. This masterful history reveals the discovery of a secret treasure, one that eventually transformed the art world.

In the 19th and 20th centuries, mental asylums in Europe began experimenting with art therapy, allowing psychotic inmates access to drawing materials. Over seventeen chapters jam-packed with astounding images, MacGregor’s book tracks the evolution of what is now known as Outsider art and the profound effect it had (and continues to have) on avant-garde art.

I love MacGregor’s ability to marry the rigor of a scholar with a humane and sensitive commentary on the lives of these forgotten "schizophrenic masters.” This book inspired my own research into schizophrenic art and is my go-to source for inspiration on this theme. 

It’s rare to find someone who writes engagingly about science and even rarer to find someone who is curious about the relationship between science and mysticism; the two realms are often considered to be unrelated, if not wholly incompatible.

John Horgan somehow manages to fuse the skepticism of a science journalist (which he is) with the open-mindedness of a spiritual seeker. I was delighted by his prose, which is detached enough to be fair to the mystics he interviews, but also confessional enough about his doubts and cynicism to win my trust.

Horgan’s odyssey to meet the high-profile mystical thinkers of the early 21st century stimulated me intellectually, but I often found myself moved by the simple humanity of its question: why do we exist? 

The problem with a lot of academic philosophy is that it can feel overly cerebral or divorced from any urgent sense of the common suffering of mankind.

What I admire about David Loy’s work is that, despite his incredible erudition about languages and religions, he speaks from the heart about the need for a spiritual path that is accessible to everyone.

Like John Suler, I value Loy as a cultural translator; he effortlessly makes the insights of Eastern and Western philosophy legible in such a way that I feel less alone in the world.    

This is the oldest book on my list, and I worry that readers might dismiss Lethaby as some kind of dusty artifact from a bygone era. I stumbled on his work by accident when I was researching architectural ideas as they related to spiritual concepts.

I’d never heard of Lethaby, but once I started reading his work, I read it through in one (albeit long) sitting. Why? His imaginative grasp of the ancient minds that devised the earliest models of the heavens and who designed temples and homes to reflect those beliefs is a joyous and thrilling tour of the human spirit.

It’s a travesty to me that Lethaby isn’t a household name like William Morris.  

In his new book, Dr. Epstein reflects on a year’s worth of selected sessions with his patients and observes how, in the incidental details of a given hour, his Buddhist background influences the way he works and reveals how a therapist can help patients cultivate the sense that there is something magical, something wonderful, and something to trust running through our lives.

It gives context for Brown’s work in determining the effects that actual past lives can have on current psychological dilemmas and using the important understanding of reincarnation and karma she learned in Japan to help patients transcend the here and now. 

This collection of essays contains pieces by many of the same authors in my first recommendation. But this begins with the historical roots, including early psychoanalytic arguments that meditation was an attempt to return to the womb. Also, there are Buddhist writers emphasizing that in meditating you're trying to get to a state of "no mind," so what good was psychotherapy? But the book moves to a conversation between a Japanese Zen teacher and C.G. Jung, and then towards the Dalai Lama's thoughts about the unconscious. It even includes a writer who is both a psychoanalyst and a Zen priest.

Brazier begins with his own experience of Zen training, and then continues on to a survey of Buddhist ideas and how each of them relates to the practice of psychotherapy. For example he takes the profound and mysterious concept of karma and then shows us how this is related to the process of helping a patient understand their repetitive psychological patterns. He addresses the topic that was central to my own path of merging psychotherapy and meditation: how loss and death are teachers. He explains the main lesson they teach: what is lost is our illusion of how the world is put together.

Dorothy Rowe’s books I discovered by accident in a Winchester second-hand bookshop, placed in the psychology section. A woman of considerable wisdom gained through her psychotherapy practice and her experience of the vicissitudes of life, Beyond Fear deals with something we all have to encounter, yet which so few of us properly understand and therefore disempower. Rowe explains in this life-changing book how fear manifests through various conditions, such as depression, a subject on which she is an acknowledged expert. I love it that she refused to simplify life, confronting it in all its difficult complexities. Life isn’t easy—we all discover that.

Probably the best place to start with Yalom, this book is a must-read for therapists, and I recommend it regularly to anyone getting started in the business, or even contemplating pursuing a career in psychotherapy. The hardest guide to write about psychotherapy is the book about “technique” - not the highfalutin theory laced with opaque language book, but the hands-on, “this is what you say when someone says this” or “here's what you can do when you run into someone in this sort of situation” book.  This is that book, and only Yalom, with his immense experience and humility, could pull off this slender guide, packed with the wisdom of decades of working, alone, in a room with another human being in pain.  I return to this book regularly and always find something new and useful in his words.

I devoured this book and its main premise: that to be a therapist is a great art and a deep discipline. Yalom is the inspiration for many psychology and psychotherapy students and trainees, and for good reason. He is the kindly, wise father many of us wish we had.

I adored this book for its insights into psychotherapy and the therapy room and for the tenderness with which Yalom treats his patients. He was also one of the first professionals to openly and publicly share his own emotions and thoughts about his patients and being a therapist. He powerfully puts forward the ‘human first, therapist second’ philosophy, one that informed my work fundamentally. He takes chances, loves his patients sincerely, and, as a result, was a hugely respected clinician who taught as well as he practiced. It is a great read for patients and therapists alike.