The most recommended human evolution books

This book is not the one-size-fits-all approach of many food books. Naturopath Dr Peter J. D’Adamo has carried on the work of his father to research the effect of various types of lectins, a type of protein found in our body, and found in many foods. One way our unique biology is expressed is in our blood type – O, A, B, or AB. Different types of lectins cause agglutination (the clumping of particles) in different blood types. ‘If you eat a food that contains lectins incompatible with your blood type, those lectins cling or bind themselves to membranes in the digestive tract causing damage such as inflammation.’

I like this book so much because it tells us that we are the last twig in a bush of human species.

Until a few tens of millennia ago, five different human species lived on our planet, that’s amazing! Only recently, thanks to the surge of symbolic intelligence, have we become a marvel of creativity and invasiveness, an ambivalent species.

It is easy to imagine that in the Stone Age, stone tools were the critical thing, that in the Bronze Age, bronze tools were the critical thing, and so on. The truth is that right up until very recent times, most of our technology was made from wood. Even before modern humans evolved, we were deeply shaped by the physical realities of wood, and the challenges and opportunities it provides. Large animals that live in trees need big brains and spatial awareness to avoid falling to their death, and the habitations of early humans were surely closely related to the nests made by non-human primates. Stone tools enabled improvements in wood handling and wood tools, bronze-enabled wooden wheels, and many of the long-term trends in human history make a lot more sense from a wood-centric perspective.

In short, this charming and unique history of humanity casts a familiar and often… show more.

This book is a revelation! The author (1907-1977) was a scientist (a naturalist, anthropologist, and paleontologist), and, boy, could he write. The title refers to the arc of time on this planet. There are chapters that describe and ponder fossils, evolution, so-called missing links, “the great deeps,” and so forth in the most captivating, poetic language. But the chapter to read is “How Flowers Changed the World.” I consider it the most important and insightful essay ever written on the dramatic arrival of angiosperms (flowering plants)—because he takes into account all context, and because he marvels. As we should.

A raw and bloody gem of a book, which plunges the reader into the cold and dirty world of our deep past, not just seen but experienced by its multi-talented author.

A philosophical hankering to know what it means to be human – and what we have inherited from our evolutionary past -leads this trained veterinarian, barrister, and writer to go back to nature in a Derbyshire wood. He and his long-suffering son experience the freezing, claw-red, and skin-tearing nature of the wild, as they seek to live similarly to our prehistoric ancestors.

Drawing inspiration from the 40,000 years of the Upper Palaeolithic, in an environment similar to the Mesolithic, Foster paints a blistering, spraining, and chilling account of the demands of a more primitive life. Essential reading from the comfort of my couch.

This timely book reveals how many of the food fads are not based on coherent and sensible science.

One of the hot fads that the book reveals does not make historical sense is the so-called paleo diet, which is based on the no-carb diet. Actually, our ancestors, who were all hunter-gatherers, did not eat primarily meat and avoid carbohydrates. In fact, these ancestors ate complex carbohydrates. The point that the author raises is that complex carbs are critical for metabolism.  

American marathon legend Bill Rodgers is quoted on the back cover of Why We Run saying, “This is not a how-to book, it’s a why book.”

He’s right, and Heinrich answers the question of why through a fascinating blend of biology, anthropology, philosophy, and psychology. It’s both a universal inquiry and a personal one: the book gets its narrative thread from Heinrich’s build-up towards competing in a 100km race, through which we are introduced to his experimental training methods and the thinking behind them.

I’ll leave you to find out how the race pans out…

To truly know who you are, I must hear your story. So it is with “Maya,” the narrator of this extraordinarily original novel. To learn her identity, we must trace the tale of her existence within a Mesolithic federation of villages struggling with food scarcity.

I’ve never read a novel like Noema; this starts with its setting. Its meticulous depiction of complex lifeways humanizes Mesolithic people and culture. These communities, like ours, confront a changing planet; scarcity and instability trigger human savagery. Their survival depends on finding harmony.

Through all this, we explore who “Maya” is and, in so doing, confront the ambiguities of identity. This duality—part meditation on humanity’s role in nature, part investigation into selfhood—is one thing that makes Noema memorable to me.

I was at a hospital, waiting to see my mother, who was recovering from an operation. Bored, I walked to a nearby store that sold snacks, magazines, and books, and picked up a paperback that looked interesting. I was thirteen and The Power was the first science-fiction book I read. The book begins with a meeting of a Navy committee for human research, conducting experiments on superior abilities that enhance the performance of military personnel. Before the meeting is over, the men and women attending discover that among them there may be a very unusual person, one so superior as to present an existential threat to lesser humans. Robinson, a Navy veteran of Korea and WWII with degrees in physics and journalism, deftly explores a possible path of human evolution.

There are lots of great books about music in human evolution, but this one conjures up such beautiful images and makes such a strong argument that it’s still my favourite.

The human species is over 230,000 years old, and we’ve probably been using singing as a form of social bonding for that whole time, and previous hominid species probably were as well. The book makes the point really well that singing is something we take for granted, but is really quite a remarkable human evolutionary adaptation.