100 books like The End of Gender

I love this book because it turns the most impactful science discovery of the 21st century–CRISPR gene editing–into a page-turner. Isaacson combines a biography of Jennifer Doudna, who shared the 2020 Nobel Prize in Chemistry with Emmanuelle Charpentier, with lucid accounts of the science and sequence of research breakthroughs that underlie CRISPR editing, as well as the intrigues and jockeying among powerful scientists and personalities vying for prizes and patents on the technology.

I came through this book to appreciate the enormous potential of CRISPR gene editing for good (curing hereditary diseases) and not-so-good (designer babies or, in the words of Vladimir Putin, “a soldier, an individual who can fight without fear or compassion, mercy or pain”). CRISPR promises to make human selection as important as natural selection in the evolution of many species, including humans.

This classic work of history and investigative reporting reads like a whodunit. It’s about the ill-willed contrarians who tried to convince the public that scientists don’t know what they do know: that our planet is warming as a result of human actions.

So, the book is not at all about scientists’ ignorance but instead about an illusion of uncertainty that has been deliberately fabricated.

I love this book because Perlroth chronicles the proliferation of cyberweapons, which began in the hands of mischievous young hackers exploiting vulnerabilities in widely used software. Once some of those hackers joined the NSA, their tools were developed into sophisticated weapons to undercut technological developments in enemy states like Iran.

Once NSA’s hacks leaked to the wider world, they spawned an arms race and fueled rampant criminal ransomware attacks on vulnerable institutions. Informed by Perlroth’s book, I see a future in which dwindling human fertility and the ballooning costs of advanced weaponry will enhance the military role of cyber-attacks, leading to Mutually Assured Cyber Destruction, in which many countries have cyberweapons deeply embedded in the critical infrastructure of their adversaries, just waiting to activate them.

I love this book because it reveals that we are all creatures of neuronal habit, which brainwashers exploit to their own benefit. The neurons that trigger most frequently tend to dominate our thoughts. I see how the brain science revealed in Taylor’s book helps to account for our current Age of Misinformation.

With advertiser-click business models, social media allows would-be brainwashers to repeat and spread their messages beyond their former wildest imaginations. They need only plant a misinformation seed to see it spread virally by users whose neurons have been preconditioned to accept and like the message. I feel that social media regulations are needed to mitigate the creation of echo chambers in which brainwashed messages sow political polarization that threatens to make nations ungovernable.

This is a heartwarming and sensitive story of a change in a family when a younger brother announces a new gender identity. She is a girl. There's an author's note, telling us this is based on a true story. And the bright darling illustrations add to this needed picture book for all children.

Nobody has done more than Stryker to document the modern history of trans people or to fashion trans studies into an academic field. Transgender History is a work of substantial scholarship and also an accessible introduction to the field and the issues on which it’s centered. Each chapter of this short-ish book is really valuable, whether it’s the opening that explains important terms and concepts or the final one assessing what Time declared the “transgender tipping point” in 2014. Stryker is a historian of twentieth-century America, so that’s the focus of her central chapter documenting a century of trans history. Understanding that early history is crucial for the liberatory gains and backlashes that follow, and Transgender History concludes with resources that can help turn its readers into informed and committed activists.

I don’t know if most librarians would understand or shelve this as YA, but Lowrey’s cast of eighteen-year-old trans punks and squatters have more in common with most trans kids, in 2006 or the present day, than many YA-marketed idyllic stories about teens with accepting families and limited substance use issues.

From nonprofits where suburban children pick fights with homeless teens to squats where young punks pressure each other into conforming to their own specific dysfunctional microculture in Portland, Oregon, this book resonates for me as tracking a moment in history—the youth of all the trans people who were in their twenties when I came out in my early teens, and were trying to devote themselves to the same community projects they had benefited from when they were runaways and train-hoppers.

Lucy Sante’s memoir is about discovering something she’s always known - that while she was born Luc Sante, she has always been Lucy Sante. I found the book transcendent.

As my young friends began to question their sexuality and crave a non-binary world, I became curious about how that felt from the inside. As a journalist, when I’m confronted by something complex, I turn to original sources and voices. When Lucy Sante, one of the greatest wordsmiths of our time, began her transition, I knew this was a book for me. Her story took me on a tender, brutal, intimate journey that ultimately had me wondering: Am I living my true life?

I have always thought that we desperately need to hear from transmen and transwomen to help distinguish the effects of biological sex from those of cultural gender conditioning—more specifically, to illuminate both the influence of our respective high levels of estrogen or testosterone) and, in a word, sexism. Using interviews with transmen, Schilt very much does the latter. Consider this book a thorough precursor (2010) to the much-publicized experiences of Martin and Nicole (Google it); Martin concludes, about his experience being treated as Nicole, "It sucked." Indeed. (And the surprise experienced by so many transmen at their post-trans experiences supports the view that most women have no idea how easy men have it.)

This memoir hurts and heals in equal measure, with thoughtful retellings of childhood trauma (CW: sexual abuse), an adult mugging, and all of the moments that fracture a life and reshape an identity.

No one is more self-made, in so many ways, than McBee, who takes readers on a journey of discovery, forgiveness, and survival. And the emphasis isn’t solely on surviving, but on what it means to be unapologetically, wholly alive in the world. For anyone who has lived through major trauma, or loved someone who has, this book is a vessel of hope.