100 books like The Varieties of Religious Experience

Best recent book examining human morality from a scientific, psychological point of view.

Darwinians used to think humans had to be selfish and immoral. Contemporary evolution argues the opposite, that humans evolved moral limits on our selfishness in order to live together. Haidt’s is the best book presenting this new evolutionary psychology.

But it goes further to connect those scientific issues with contemporary politics, explaining why people from “red” and “blue” states cannot understand each other: they each embody a short list of human moral values, but different ones. This is a great book for thinking carefully about human morality and contemporary politics. Students love it, and so do I. 

I admit that Huxley’s final novel is a rather difficult one to read. It’s long, it goes on too long in some places, it’s kind of fiction and philosophy together, and it includes a book within a book. However, The Island is a work of genius.

There’s the utopian island of Pala (not dystopian), and all through the book, there’s the threat of the invading Rendang kingdom. It includes some Buddhist ideas with the birds on the island that say karuna (meaning compassion) and "attention" to remind islanders of the now, yet ultimately, in the end, the island is invaded, and the utopia becomes exposed as a fake.

Mysticism and Logic is a significant work written by British philosopher Bertrand Russell. It has always been a favorite of mine as it engages two seemingly contradictory aspects of human thought: mysticism and logic.

He delves into the nature of mystical experiences and attempts to analyze them with the principles of logical reasoning. By exploring these contrasting perspectives, Russell invites readers to question and critically examine different ways of understanding the world and reality. While acknowledging the profound influence of mystical experiences on human thought and culture, he subjects mystical beliefs and experiences to logical scrutiny.

By applying principles of rationality, he challenges the coherence and evidential basis of mystical claims. This critical evaluation encourages us to approach mystical experiences with a balanced and critical mindset that I feel is at the heart of neurotheology.

I have viewed The Spiritual Brain as a fascinating exploration of spirituality in a manner similar to my own investigations of neurotheology.

Beauregard bridges the gap between science and spirituality presenting a range of neuroscientific research studies that explore the neural correlates of spiritual experiences. Beauregard draws from various spiritual traditions, including Christianity, Buddhism, and Native American spirituality, to support his arguments.

By incorporating a range of perspectives, he emphasizes the universality of spiritual experiences across different cultures and traditions. He also delves into questions about the nature of consciousness, free will, morality, and human nature. Beauregard argues for the existence of the soul and presents a non-reductive view of consciousness that acknowledges the spiritual dimension of human experiences.

Turner asks a great question. How did the United States go from being the deeply religious society of the Puritans and the Founders to a culture of widespread unbelief, especially among the well-educated? His astute analysis of 19th-century America explains why and how agnosticism and atheism gradually became socially acceptable alternatives to faith. As Turner sees it, attempts to “explain” God and fit the Divine into a more rationalistic, scientific, and anti-mystical framework, and the deadening hand of dogma, helped pave the way for a culture resistant to the very idea of God.

This madcap story involves a militant Christian and a militant atheist who decide to fight to the death over the question of the existence of God. The trouble is that no one in the world will let them do it. When I first read it, much as I enjoyed the two central combatants and their repeatedly baffled zeal, I was even more delighted by the framework of the novel. The Ball and the Cross begins in a spaceship containing a mad scientist named Lucifer and a holy monk named Michael. The theological-cosmological setting seems clear, but this is not a twee presentation of the battle of the angels (cf. Revelation 12:7–10). These two have rich personalities and Michael in particular had a huge impact on me regarding the proper depiction of goodness.

Sit up straight, button your coat, and get ready for a blast of cold air. John Gray doesn’t take prisoners, but except for the moment when his sniper’s rifle is pointing right at you, it’s a wonderful performance to watch. The book isn’t an attack on religion, something that he thinks so obviously ridiculous it’s hardly worth discussing (he goes through the motions, briefly). It’s an attack on his fellow atheists, most of whom he accuses – convincingly, mercilessly – of practising religion by other means. Personally, I find the realities that are left once he has shredded the soggy and wishful thinking that characterises most modern humanism a little bit too stark. But I hugely appreciate the brutal clarity of his vision.

This is a risky choice because the author is my old university colleague and later television writing partner, to whom I’ve been married for 41 years. I feel comfortable about it because of the number of fine British and American writers who have recommended this and her earlier books. I picked it because it’s the first novel I’ve read that makes a credible artistic attempt to grasp the experience of the current Pandemic. It’s a murder mystery that takes place during those first few months, when what was happening in the world seemed unthinkable, going out meant breaking a lockdown, and contact with anyone might be fatal. The amateur investigator, a young woman with an aimless and undisciplined past, takes a deep expedition into death, and it galvanizes her into taking charge and being really alive. 

The anti-John Gray – and, in purely literary terms, the best writer on my list, which is saying something. It’s not, Francis Spufford says, an apologetic, a reasoned defence of faith. It’s a personal account of why his Christianity makes emotional sense to him, and why it might make emotional sense to other people too. Worth reading for his retelling of the life of Jesus alone. He doesn’t deal with the intellectual questions of religion vs. atheism (though he has some sly hints). What he does is explain why you might want to deal with those questions. So it’s an ‘unapologetic’: both, because it’s about emotion and not narrow reason, and also, he says, because he’s not sorry. Read it, and you won’t be either.

This was the book that impelled me to write my own account of superstition. I could have also recommended his masterpiece, The Selfish Gene, which I read as a teenager and got me into science in the first place but this unforgiving attack on religion spurred me to write a more balanced view that considered religion as a naturally emerging consequence of cognitive development. In fairness, The God Delusion does briefly mention evidence in support of a natural inclination, but this is outweighed by an agenda (that I do not share) to eradicate religion as pernicious indoctrination. Whatever your opinion of Dawkins, he is undeniably one of the most gifted science writers with a clarity of argument combined with a poetic beauty of prose.