100 books like Urban Jungle

I can think of no other book that so exquisitely inhabits the tension between indigenous knowledge traditions and science than Rae Mariz’s (Indigenous Pacific) marvelous clifi novella, Weird Fishes.

Inspired by marine science and the storytelling traditions of Hawai'i, Mariz’s world is a feast of bubbling colors and more-than-human senses that inspire an extraordinary empathy for all the wondrous beings with whom we share this planet. Weird Fishes reads like a parable and an aquatic mystery, a magnificently crafted voyage that leads the novella’s cephalopod scientist protagonist (Ceph) to the startling discovery that humanity is behind the growing disruptions to marine ecology.

How do we thrive together? Or does the survival one society hinge on the extermination of the other? Is co-existence possible for beings with such radically different natures and senses? These are the questions that will linger in your gills well after the last pages are turned.

I’m not a fan of either Doomsday or Pollyanna-ish books, especially in relation to climate change. I’ve read lots of books on this subject, and this is my favorite.

It doesn’t shy away from explaining what’s at stake and what is likely to happen if we don’t stop the escalation of climate-heating gases in our atmosphere, but it offers us a path toward solving this potential catastrophe that we can and must take together.  

Eleutheria is a fantastic climate novel that paints a dire, realistic portrait of the near future and then combats that dystopia with bright-eyed hope.

I loved the narrator, Willa Marks, who is endearing and desperate to save the world against overwhelming odds, ultimately elbowing her way into a commune-like movement in the Caribbean that has very big plans. I really loved how Willa encapsulates what many of us feel: this urgency to do something to stop the climate crisis, even if we don’t know how.

What I truly loved about this book, however, is that it leaves us with a spark of real hope, rather than falling into dystopia. The author, Allegra Hyde, has declared the growing number of us hopeful climate writers as “Team Utopia,” and I’m a proud member.  

Bunny is an American teenager in Azerbaijan. Her father is a diplomat. She grows up in a world where oil is everything, listening to the language of the adults around her as some want their share of the profits reaped by this energy source while (a few) others point out the inequities in this industry and its potential long-term effects on the world.

What is fascinating as well is how she herself becomes part of this same world when she is an adult, almost as if she cannot help but be subsumed by the vast structure of the oil industry.

The subtitle of this book is rethinking the science, economics, and diplomacy of climate change. And trust me Simon does that for you and more.

Because the world is facing multiple disasters with heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, floods, and massive storms becoming more common and more deadly. But there is an underlying optimism in this book – things are changing and we are reducing carbon emissions, pollution, and destruction of the natural world.  But the message Simon is giving us is that we are not doing it quick enough.

The way our economic and political systems are set up means we are slow to respond – and as Simon eloquently points out with facts and figures we need to do everything 5 times faster.  The question is, will we?

I met Clive Hamilton at an event in London in 2011 shortly after the book’s launch. At the time the climate science community was still reeling from the disaster of the 2009 Copenhagen climate change summit.

As rationalists, we were asking the question: “Why is the scientific evidence not being listened to?” Hamilton provided answers – about humanity’s free market consumerist fetish, the insidious role of mainstream economics, and our denialist tendencies, alienation from nature, and hubris.

He explained that “Awakening to the prospect of climate disruption compels us to abandon most of the comfortable beliefs that have sustained our sense of the world as a stable and civilising place.”

Dismissing techno-solutions such as Carbon Capture and Storage and ‘Clean Coal’ as diversionary tactics by powerful interests, the book offers an ethical and moral basis for reconstructing the future. Rereading it 13 years after its publication, I am… show more.

I chose Lyme: The First Epidemic of Climate Change because I live in Connecticut and my own family and friend group have been gravely impacted by tick-borne infections. In fact, the subplot of my novel focuses on the frustrating story of a family seeking answers to this “mystery” illness.

We are at a moment where climate change is accelerating new and worsening pathogenic diseases and public health isn’t catching up fast enough. Mary Beth Pfeiffer provides a well-researched glimpse into the politics and pain of tick-borne infections in a climate-changing world.

I recommend this book as a community conversation starter because, more and more, citizens are coming together to share medical resources and put pressure on the public health community to act. 

I love this book for its humour in the face of catastrophe.

As the rain falls and the floods rise, Chris sees his mission as to warn humanity of the impending terrors of the climate emergency. His wife Emma meanwhile tries to keep their home and family fed, safe and happy.

An incurable optimist, she finds Chris’ behaviour both pointless and faintly ridiculous. And when he takes to switching off the electricity in order to teach her to be more self-sufficient, she’s less than pleased.

What I really admire is the way Carys tackles the serious topic of climate breakdown with wry humour, generating sympathy for both partners and drawing us into each one’s point of view. 

Scranton is polarizing because he wallows in doom and flirts with an unpleasant form of nihilism. But even so, he provides an honest, sometimes searing introduction to the big troubles we are facing today—and he does so at the right level of analysis, our entire civilization. It is also very short and punchy. If, however, readers prefer less doom and more hope, then read instead Naomi Klein’s smart, serviceable collection of short essays, On Fire.

I worry that people don’t hear enough about solutions to the climate crisis, but, thankfully, Paul Hawken and his collaborators lay many of them out in this book.

They focus not on the flashy technologies that often grab headlines—and not just on the reduction of fossil fuels—but on the power of a healthy, living Earth to heal itself. Of course, we need to be partners in this healing, and Hawken illuminates the people, organizations, and approaches that are doing just that.