Fans pick 74 books like Megawatts and Megatons

Putting in the numbers is what Gates does in his book. Climate change is real, no question. How to address it is where the controversy comes in. I really like that from the outset, Gates proposes five questions to consider whenever climate change is discussed: what fraction of the annual carbon dioxide emission are you removing? What’s your plan for cement? How much electrical power will be needed, what’s the cost, and how much space will it take up? 

But he’s optimistic that zero emissions can be reached. He argues there are many options to explore, including nuclear, and says, contrary to much of the news reporting, don’t focus on 2030; focus instead on 2050 to give the best solutions time to emerge.

My understanding of how the world works has been greatly influenced by my study of economics. However, economists often make overly optimistic assumptions about technology and resources that are not grounded in fact and experience.

Smil's book on how the world really works is a powerful antidote to the wishful thinking of those, not just economists, who believe that technology will solve the problems of overshoot, poverty, inequality, conflict, and whatever else may be ailing us.

I love Smil's grasp of physical, biological, and technological fundamentals and his ability to communicate his wisdom about how the world really works simply and with conviction.   

The numbers in physics have always fascinated me. Many think of physics as full of impenetrable equations. Some, like E=mc squared and F=ma, are associated with famous names, Einstein and Newton. But on their own, equations don’t tell us what’s happening. Numbers breathe life into equations, giving meaning to the symbols. In Rees’s beautiful book, he identifies six numbers that have led to the universe around us and to the extraordinary complexity of the world we live in. 

And they are just numbers, like 3 or 0.007. Only six numbers? So few seem astonishing. Modern physics and cosmology do identify others. But in all cases, the conclusion is that you can’t change them, not even a little, and still end up with a universe and world like ours. 

I can’t say I love this book since I don’t agree with his premise: wind, water, and solar can do it all. But to be fair, he’s right that cleaning up the air by removing coal plants would be a boon to global health everywhere. 

He makes an appealing case. But his vision of the future founders for me on the intermittency issue of his power sources, particularly wind and solar. How will they scale to match the needs? Where is the battery technology to support the downtime? What are the environmental impacts? How will the power get from producer to user? He is opposed to nuclear power and yet it is the closest thing to a plug-to-plug replacement for the coal fired plants we all agree should be phased out.

I knew the Manhattan Project was big, but I never realized how immense it truly was. This book left me in awe of how scientists recognized and unleashed the power of the atom. Rhodes makes the technical details as compelling as the personalities and relationships he weaves into this sprawling saga.

My favorite character is Leo Szilard, who conceived the idea of a nuclear chain reaction while waiting at a traffic light. He secretly donated his patent on atomic chain reactions to the British government and convinced Einstein to co-sign a letter warning President Roosevelt about German efforts to develop the bomb. The stakes were incredibly high, and Rhodes' storytelling is masterful.

I’m always impressed by writers who are able to dream up an original plot, and then make that plot come alive on the page.

The book tells the story of three generations of Russian women in the second half of the twentieth century. It’s a very unusual blend of Sci-fi, geopolitical history, time travel, and moral dilemmas. A tall order, but the book succeeds in weaving together these narrative strands in a way that feels natural and effortless, while evoking questions about our complex relationship with the notion of scientific progress.

This collection of Katsumata’s manga for legendary gekiga magazine Garo and others is a powerful graphic bridge between the politics and reality of this world, and the creatures and legends of the other. Katsumata takes us from the transitory and dangerous lives of nuclear workers at Fukushima Daiichi (decades before the 2011 disaster) to the tough and haunted lands of Tohoku (North East Japan) in the early twentieth century. Lonely kappa monsters, tanuki, and fox spirits feature as sympathetic lead characters, shapeshifting and conjuring a version of Fukushima and Tohoku that dazzled and inspired me.

James Mahaffey is an American physicist who worked in the nuclear industry for many years.

Atomic Accidents is his engaging account of what happens when something goes badly wrong. What I particularly like is that it is written from the perspective of someone who completely understands the science and who is also well informed by his first-hand experience of working with nuclear technology.

Although Mahaffey is clearly a supporter of nuclear research and the nuclear industry, the book presents an objective balanced picture, acknowledging the risks of nuclear technology, but placing the scale of those risks into context. The book is full of interesting stories and offers some reassurance that the nuclear industry is able to learn from the mistakes of the past.

My father and I were both speechless after reading this book. We were unable to put into words our rage at this nuclear energy cover-up. Instead of developing clean nuclear energy that could fuel the world, the world pursued nuclear energy that could destroy humanity. There is enough thorium to fuel the world and beyond for centuries. However, it cannot be used to make bombs. With the world in an energy crisis, we hoped writing letters to the Senator of Kentucky would give life to the idea of using thorium once again. Sadly, some only care about destroying cities. Everyone should read this book and learn about the alternative to uranium.

We Almost Lost Detroit was published in the mid-1970s  at a time of growing concern over nuclear power in America that would reach a boiling point with the Three Mile Island nuclear accident in Pennsylvania in 1979. There was no love lost between the two sides. Utility executives were believed to be liars trying to save their investment in a costly, difficult technology. Nuclear critics were portrayed by the industry as deluded tree-huggers. It was a real debate with real consequences, and this book shows why. The cover of the Ballantine paperback edition shows the terrified face of a man inside a radiation protective suit.