Fans pick 100 books like The Coddling of the American Mind

Any book written with an imaginative undertone gets to be amongst my favorites. In this brilliant book, the foibles of imagination and illusions of foresight are discussed, which cause each of us to misconceive our tomorrows and misestimate our satisfactions.

What I really like is the penetrating insight and sparkling prose that the author has used. Moreover, the very interesting take on why we seem to know so little about the hearts and minds of the people we are about to become has a flavor of its own. Mature readers will definitely love it!

This book also operates as both a primary source as well as a scholarly work, essentially updating Boorstin. Postman’s classic book wrestles with the paradox presented by George Orwell and Aldous Huxley: Huxley, rather than Orwell, anticipated the future, as one does not need to outlaw certain books if one does not care to read—as one revels in the pleasures of “pseudo-events.”

Read in light—or glare—of the more recent smartphone revolution, Postman’s book becomes even more relevant to contemporary discussions about information, knowledge, and overload.

It always seemed unfair to me that not only do we get just one life, but we only get to live it once. So I fell in love with this novel from the moment I read its premise: Ursula Todd is born and dies and is born again… and again… and again.

I love that she doesn’t remember her previous lives except as vague intuitions that help her avoid making the same mistakes twice–and I also love that avoiding those mistakes often means she makes other (often fatal) mistakes. I found this book funny, moving, and thought-provoking, but what I love most about it is the way its down-to-earth, realistic style allowed me to fully inhabit the impossible conceit at its heart. 

Terrence Real tells it like it is, and his frank and forthright manner is something I truly admire. I got so much from this book because it is practical and motivating. I felt challenged and empowered to be more loving in my relationships, to recognize my own unhelpful behavior, to understand that certain habits can destroy a loving partnership and that great relationships take time to build—and that’s okay.

It's full of bullet points and tools, which I appreciate and can apply more easily, and he also has a strong message for men in his book, something that is lacking in relationship well-being literature generally. 

This is a solid book that will help you in your relationships.

You can’t stay married if you’re dead. Don’t die. Read this book. 

There’s a reason TIME Magazine included the central text of the world’s most prolific recovery organization on its list of Best 100 Nonfiction Books of All Time: the book that gave AA its name likely has saved more lives than any other singular narrative in the past century.

AA not really for you? Reading Alcoholics Anonymous does not mean joining Alcoholics Anonymous. The themes co-authors Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith discuss – and the Twelve Steps of Recovery in particular – have near-universal relevance to anyone attempting to break the grip of alcohol or drugs.

More than eight decades after its publication, the book offers timeless truths that captivate addicts via ironclad identification. 

Lilla’s goal in this book is to show how identity politics threatens the electoral prospects of the Democratic Party. He argues that the party has thrown citizenship—the “we” in political conversation—out the window in favor of “personal identities in terms of the inner homunculus, a unique little thing composed of parts tinted by race, sex, and gender,” and that this will be electorally disastrous for the Democrats. But Lilla’s arguments show that it is disastrous for our national conversation as well. When we give personal identity weight in an argument (Lilla is superb at eviscerating the shopworn phrase “speaking as an X”) we turn the intellectual clock back to premodern times when arguments were settled by power and force.

Kronman is particularly good at describing the “tough” reasoning skills that underlie the thinking styles that have produced modern science and modern democracies. An example of these tough skills is what he calls the “ethic of depersonalization”: expressing arguments in a form available to all—a form not dependent on our emotions or personal experience. Identity politics, in contrast, gives weight to immutable demographic characteristics in ongoing political conversations.  It thus reverses centuries of progress in the intellectual march toward open, ecumenical inquiry, where personal characteristics do not trump rational argument.

Ellis chronicles the history of how the university turned from an institution of open inquiry into a political monoculture that requires those in it to adhere to a particular ideology. Ellis is particularly good at showing how the strengths of the traditional university were turned into weaknesses and allowed it to be captured by the adherents of identity politics. Old-style independent scholars are hard to organize, Ellis points out, because they are just that—independent. But these truly independent scholars were no match for the politically organized groups that wanted to use the university to advance a political agenda.

Campbell and Manning are sociologists who trace how a new moral culture of victimhood has given rise to political correctness. The new moral culture combines the properties of the old culture of honor and the old culture of dignity in a uniquely toxic way. The new victimhood culture borrows from honor culture its extreme sensitivity to insult, but borrows from the culture of dignity the tendency to call upon authorities and institutions to resolve disputes, rather than deal with them on a personal level. The victimhood culture is what has spawned the repressive campus environment of micro-aggressions, deplatforming, and bias response teams.

I found it fascinating to read Ethan Watters’ analysis of how American concepts of mental illness are exported and globalized, usually with disastrous consequences.

During a cultural moment when social justice, cultural relativism, and imperialism have entered the public consciousness, this book is more relevant than ever. With its focus on mental health labels and diagnoses, specifically, this book helped me understand how our notions of illness, psychological distress, and mental health don’t necessarily translate into other societies.

I loved thinking about familiar diagnoses here in the US, such as anorexia, depression, and PTSD, and reading about well-meaning initiatives that bring these labels into foreign contexts. By attempting to superimpose our conception of mental illness onto people in other countries, we inadvertently diminish the social networks and resilience of the societies we aim to help.

As a therapist who is sometimes weary of our cultural stories about psychological suffering, this… show more.