93 books like Crossing the Postmodern Divide

This is the most readable philosophy book I know. Nietzsche wrote it in his brilliantly witty, epigrammatic style. Each episode is about a page long.

Concentrate on "Book Four." There, Nietzsche famously tells us that God is dead. Find out what he really means. (We criticize everything and can feel no true reverence.) Consequently, we seek convenience and flexibility over and over again. Stunningly, Nietzsche sets out four contrarian, incompatible good lives. (Philosophers have always sought to define one good life.)

If you read nothing else, read epigrams 290, 295, and 303: "The life of constant revision to perfect a style," "The life of short stories," "The life of brilliant improvisation," and "The risk-taking life." I use Nietzsche’s model of good lives to help business leaders restore their businesses and themselves.

This book is based on Hubert (Bert) Dreyfus’s famous undergraduate philosophy course at U. C. Berkeley, affectionately called “From Gods to God and Back.” Like me, Sean was Bert’s teaching assistant for the course. We all loved this course because it draws out of our Western literary traditions a form of spirituality that we believe is essential for good lives today.

The book begins by looking at the relationship between Athena and Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey. It’s a friendly mentoring relationship without any suffocating philosophical-theological pretensions such as omnipotence or omniscience. Later, we join St. Augustine as he tries to undermine (though unsuccessfully) the theological pretensions. The book ends with Melville’s polytheism in Moby Dick.

The book inspires us to look for “attainable felicities”: simple divine experiences without pretensions. 

Since Aristotle, friendship has seemed a pure, unadulterated good. Our friends bring the best out of us. End of story. We all have known enough betrayal, mixed purposes, and painful incompatibilities to suspect the tradition, as does the philosopher Alexander Nehamas.

I particularly love the parts of the book where he takes, as an example of friendship, that between Thelma and Louise in the film of the same name. By virtue of their friendship, Thelma helps Louise gain self-confidence, and Louise helps Thelma get beyond her neurotic self-composure. Aristotle and Montaigne would be happy. However, the cost is murder, robbery, and ultimately suicide.

With this and other engaging examples, Nehamas shows that friendship is always morally risky. The good life involves struggle and is not safe.

Michel Foucault spent the last years of his life in his plain-speaking public lectures, calling our attention to the ancient philosophers’ practices for mastering the self. I help leaders (and myself) with these practices of managing desires without trying to eliminate them.

In this book (1982-1983 lectures), Foucault focuses on the practice that guides my life: parrhesia, telling truth to power. From 400 BCE to 600 CE, parrhesia reigned in education. Foucault’s account of Plato’s subtle truth-telling to Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, is spellbinding. As thanks, Dionysius sold Plato into slavery. Telling the truth always carries a high moral risk. Truths cut across common sense.

Today’s mantra of radical candor—sharing views—avoids hard truths, produces agreeableness, and undermines good lives. This book wakes us up.

This is, first, a jeremiad against the cheerful scientific ignorance on display in so much postmodernist philosophy. I admit to having enjoyed the critique—it’s razor sharp and often funny. But you don’t have to be interested in postmodernism to enjoy what emerges from this: a wonderfully clear, readable, undogmatic discussion of what characterizes good (and bad) scientific practice in a wide variety of disciplines. The authors usefully compare science to a criminal investigation. Science, they say, is simply “a rational response to investigation under complex uncertainty”—but detective work is an art, and (a jab at Karl Popper here) “no one has written a definitive treatise on The Logic of Criminal Investigation.”

By 2020 the boundary between fantasy and reality had become virtually erased. Confined to home, we all found ourselves the targets of conspiracy theories. Even the president scoffed at the dangers of the coronavirus. Rushdie’s spoof of Cervantes’ Don Quixote features an updated avatar of Quixote whose reality has been formed by tv soap operas. He is “deranged by reality television,” and in love with a talk show celebrity. Driving across America to reach her he encounters “the pollution of the real by the unreal.” In fact, he himself turns out to be the fictional creation of another major character, an author who is soon exposed to be no less fictional. But this is Rushdie in whose ludic novels the material unreal is the imaginative real.

This is one of the best critiques of our postmodern culture that you can find from a writer who can make an analysis from both a theological and historical perspective. He also gives an analysis of the evangelical church and how it has been captured by that culture. David Wells points out that there is a conflict within the church today between the plague of postmodernism and the Christian gospel. We must get this sorted out, and this book not only helped me do that, but helped me guide others in accomplishing that goal. So relevant and valuable was the information in this book, I simply could not put it down until I had read it cover to cover.

Fredric Jameson’s Postmodernism, or The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism was one of the first accounts of “postmodern aesthetics” and why it continues to matter today.

Circa 1990, Jameson showed how a new age of high-tech and transnational corporations fundamentally transformed how we create and experience art, design, and aesthetics.

A sweeping study and critique of modern culture! If you are looking for a comprehensive and passionate analysis of time and space in the “late capitalist era,” this is the one to read. Nobody has written more authoritatively on modern and post-modern “time-space compression” (you have to read the book to see what this means). Harvey’s intellectual breadth and depth are astonishing. No wonder he is one of the most cited scholars of our time.

During the early 1990s, I had the good fortune to participate in Habermas’ legendary Monday night philosophy colloquium at the University of Frankfurt.

The experience transformed my understanding of the raison d’être of Critical Theory. The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity is not a book about fascism per se. Instead, it tells the story of how, after the war, the titans of interwar German Kulturpessimismus – Nietzsche (albeit, posthumously), Carl Schmitt, and Heidegger – were canonized by the leading advocates of “French Theory” as the new maîtres à penser or “master thinkers.”

Yet, the canonization of German philosophy came at a high cost. After all, historically speaking, the philosophies in question stood in close proximity to fascist ideology.

Hence, the question arises: to what extent did such pro-fascist “ideologemes” infiltrate and inform the basic tenets of French poststructuralism?