100 books like Known Order Girls

I’m fascinated with why people believe what they do and how those beliefs can sometimes be incredibly hard to change. In this book, three wry and jaded book publishers decide to out-conspire the conspiracy theorists—and succeed all too well.

The result is a brilliant labyrinth of a book that has always reminded me of one of those complicated contraptions with gears and levers, where all you can do is stare, fascinated, at the intricacy of the clockwork unfolding in front of you.

I love how history is wound through the entire plot, using real events and characters to tie the whole thing together. It’s a masterpiece.

I love Ursula LeGuin’s fiction, and for me, this is the best book—a brilliant examination of how power can corrupt, even when one’s motives start out good. An unscrupulous psychologist uses his patient’s extraordinary skill to reshape the world with dreadful consequences.

The author takes a fascinating concept and subtly weaves it with deep questions about morality and the nature of good and evil. LeGuin was a masterful writer, and in this book, she created a story that I still reread once a year without fail.

I love books that explore how ordinary people might react in extraordinary circumstances, and this one takes that to another level.

The main characters, Tengo and Aomame, see that the world has changed—the most obvious clue being that there are now two moons in the sky—and it is fascinating to watch how these two very different people cope with living in a new and mysterious context. Murakami has a knack for making the surreal seem believable, and in this book, he is at the top of his game.

I first read this one in high school, and to say it blew me away is an understatement. Five people in sixteenth-century Peru die in a bridge collapse, and a devout Catholic priest sets out to see why—what about God’s plan for the world can be discerned from an examination of why these five, and no others, died that day.

This book's impact on my worldview was enormous: how we take what we experience and use it to make sense of our world. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve reread it, and it still strikes me to the heart every time.

A legal scholar and a political scientist, both Americans who grew up in Japan, explain Meiji and Taisho political history from the standpoint of rational calculation by the leading politicians. This is a convincing narrative of the birth of parliamentary government and the emergence of political parties under the Meiji constitution, 1889 to 1947. The authors explain how the leaders of the various political parties were pursuing their own selfish ends—perpetuation of their own power and status. Without intending to do so, those politicians created a political structure that extremist cliques in Japan’s armed forces were able to subvert.

I especially like this book because it avoids the trap that so many others fall into of imputing benign motives to a nebulous but omnipotent entity spinning out government policies—a “development state,” or whatever you might call it, a cadre of unnamed “policy-makers” who are guided by the abstract arguments of… show more.

Real conspiracies do exist. Sometimes. And sometimes they play out in broad daylight or just below the surface. Mayer scratches that surface and reveals the incredible influence that is wielded by just a handful of American oligarchs, who use their wealth to determine the direction of America. This is a page-turner on the one hand, but on the other, it is also a serious scholarly effort that amply documents how money drives politics in the U.S. 

When McCreery’s book was published the literature on the region was overwhelmingly dominated by books on politics, with the great majority written from a left-wing perspective. Even long after the fighting has ceased, many in the global North had an unnuanced vision of rural society in which oligarchic landlords exercised feudal control over an undifferentiated ‘peasantry.’ This book shows that for decades an element of that vision was borne out in everyday life, but the volume also shows on the basis of outstanding research that rural Guatemala was dynamic, riven with class competition and negotiation, far from binary in its social structure, and possessed of a rich cultural life.

We are all consumers, much more so since the post-WWII years of prosperity. 

But beyond meeting our family needs and making our lives easier (and certainly more cluttered), mass consumption has taken on deeper political meaning in American culture and society. In many ways, our identities as consumers have replaced our identity as citizens – with increased individualism displacing our commitments to the common good.

This book walks us through the post-war history of consumerism while at the same time places it squarely in the context of cold war politics.

Countering a drifting away from an appreciation of the demos, the book encourages us to build a democratic constitutional political economy that renews traditions of egalitarianism and social rights rather than the recent neoliberalism’s imagined market-based orientation of freedom alone.

I like the way the book revives the American constitutional tradition of discourse emphasizing how constraint of the concentration of wealth is necessary to preserve a democratic republic.

Although published several years ago, this book is a timely investigation about the power of big tech on so many aspects of our lives.

The book focuses to a great extent on the impacts on the music, book, and newspaper industries that have been significantly disrupted by the tech industry. But it also alerts to the larger implications, especially as tech becomes increasingly dominant in our economy, democracy, and lives.