non-fiction books i return to again and again

in praise of circling back to the literary pleasure trough

I was reorganising my bookshelves this morning and it occurred to me I haven’t written about books on here in a while. It’s not for lack of material — of there is one thing I am never NOT doing it’s reading. Literary consumption is such an ingrained habit in my life I sometimes I forget anyone would be interested and fall into thinking it would be like describing my family meal plan or daily excercise routine. Crucial and necessary, but surely too tedious to write about.

But then I remembered: This is Substack! The ultimate nerd-fest, Glastonbury for misanthropes!

And you guys aren’t just my readers, most if not all of you are also proper readers, full stop. And I went back to this post I wrote last summer on the joy of re-reading which garnered a warm and intelligent response, so I thought this time I’d get more specific on the subject of re-reading and why can and should let ourselves go back for more — in spite of all the new writing that abounds, both on here and elsewhere.

Regular readers of this newsletter will know I am intentionally eclectic and disorganised in my reading habits and interests, and this is especially true when it comes to non-fiction — a stupidly enormous category, which for the purposes of this post I will limit to books about certain factual topics of interest. Memoir, essays, biography, narrative non-fiction, etc. are a whole other pleasure and post. Today I want to talk about the factsy books I returned to on my shelf and why. The stack above is a random selection of just a few of the books I find myself going back to again and again.

If there is one quality the non-fiction books in the stack above all share it’s the ease with which I first read them. What I mean is that I didn’t have to work too hard to grasp ideas they contained. I am capable of hard work but as a reader I am unapologetically lazy. Every since childhood, relaxation and reading have been indelibly linked in my mind and I am very careful not to disrupt the connection for fear of lessening the pleasure of the process. I often read for work but I refuse to engage in reading that feels like work, if that makes sense? In truth, I don’t even like work that feels like work, which why I do this instead. The twin impulses that guide my book choices are curiosity and pleasure. Duty doesn’t come into it. I really do think this is a big part of the reason I almost never get ‘stuck’ on a book or find it impossible concentrate — with ‘good’ being the operative word. There is so much to read these days, not just on the shelf but the screen, making it more important than ever to choose our material wisely. Overwhelm is a constant threat, but I abandon far fewer books in my forties than I did in my twenties and thirties. With time and experience, I have managed to glean a better understanding of my own taste as a reader. I like to enoy what I love and I no longer question my own proclivities in the way that I once did. I also feel zero guilt about returning to a great book for a second, third or fourth go round if I fancy it. If I enjoy a book enough I’ve wear it out like a pop song.

To be fair, ‘re-reading,’ is a bit of a misnomer. What often happens when I loop back to a certain book is more like an excavation or treasure hunt. Often it begins with a remembered detail. A sentence, paragraph, image, turn of phrase or idea will suddenly float to the surface of my consciousness because of something I’m working on or thinking about and I’ll find myself suddenly seized by the urge to go back to the source of the detail right now. This desire is not only driven by a nostalgic wish to re-experience the initial pleasure of discovery but an urgent need to prove to myself that I am not, in fact, losing my sanity and making shit up in my head.

And my god, it is such a thrill and a joy when I look for a specific passage in a specific book and manage to find both! I get such joy from the locating the nugget of bliss and it’s place on the page. The idea the book itself has always been there, inalterable, ideas in tact, and will remain there after I am long gone is heartening, albeit in a slightly morbid way.

This is all to say that the impatient, urgent, excavatory nature of my re-reading means that, like urgent sex and eating, it often happens half-standing up in a rush. When I re-read I am usually standing in the middle of my sitting room during the day when I ought to be working or while I’m teetering on the third rung of the rickety old barn ladder I use to reach my top shelves. Anxious as they are I still love these half-stolen moments. There is real joy in repetition and reprise.

great non-fiction I return to and why:

Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual by Michael Pollen

A decade and a half after its initial publication, the simplicity and resonance of this teeny-tiny volume continues to fascinate The book is divided into three parts according to three simple memorable rules which pretty much cover it all: 1) Eat food. 2) Mostly plants. 3) Not too much. What more do you need to know about food? Nothing — everything else is just gravy! Why can’t other vast topics be boiled down to a tasty size in this way, I wonder?

The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker

An advance proof copy of this book somehow found its way into my downstairs loo in my house and lived there for five or six years. During this time it implanted itself deep in my consciousness. It’s full of little exercises and ideas for shifting perspective and mood and stoking wonder. Walker also has a brilliant Substack I subscribe to and recommend.

My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies by Nancy Friday

First published in 1976, a year after my birth, this book is a mark of the times — a massive runaway ‘feminist’ bestseller that no major publisher would dream of touching today. It’s just a compilation of real (anonymous) women’s sexual fantasies in their own words, gathered and lightly contextualised by Friday. If you were under the impression Hugh Hefner and PornHub invented the concept of smut, a quick flip through My Secret Garden will set you straight.

Mothers: An Essay on Love and Cruelty by Jaqueline Rose

I often find myself flipping open this book when I am feeling tired and hobbled by the relentless work of single motherhood. Somedays you just need a haughty French theorist to remind you it’s not all your fault. Or as Rose puts it ‘mothers are the ultimate scapegoat for our personal and political failings, for everything that is wrong with the world, which becomes their task (unrealisable of course) to repair.’

The Journalist and the Murder by Janet Malcolm

Compulsively readable, withering, jaundiced, personal, political, broad and specific. For the record, I am not a fan of the famous first line which has been quoted into a state of meaninglessness.

America by Jean Baudrillard

Ever since university I have been engaged in what I can only describe as a longstanding hate-fuck situationship with this book. Jean Baudrillard is the prototypical unbearable, arrogant Gallic academic. His ideas are now reductive and dated, his writing incomprehensible, his voice unbelievably patronising— and yet I keep going back, telling myself it’s ‘just for a laugh.’ Why? Help!

How Pleasure Works by Paul Bloom

This book basically sunk like a stone at the time of publication, but I picked it up years later and was surprised to find how much I loved it. The chapter on attraction, sex and beauty has stayed with me, in particular the research on physical beauty standards. Apart from the obvious (symmetrical features, youth, health, glossy hair, smooth skin, etc) research demonstrates that averageness is a huge determining factor in human attractiveness across culture and time. Normcore is the definition hotness… seriously, who knew? Loads of other fascinating stuff, very much ahead of it’s time in terms of the broader discussions around digital culture, dopamine addiction, etc.

Stand Out of Our Light by James Williams

A slim and dazzlingly memorable book in spite of its utterly forgettable title. James upended the way I thought about the internet and he did it in just over a hundred pages with a voice that is humane and personable. An excellent reminder that philosophy/critical theory does not need to bore people to death.

Conflicted by Ian Leslie

This one I go back to whenever I find myself at odds with someone I care about. Serves as a reminder that fighting is often healthy and necessary but there are better and worse ways to go about it.

Far From The Tree: Parents, Children and the Search for Identity by Andrew Solomon

The only parenting book that’s every actually stayed with me. An endless revelation and source of refreshing wisdom. Compassionate, brilliant, heavy and looooong — but actually earns its page count.

The Couple Who Became Each Other by David L. Calof

This long out of print book was a gift from my hypno friend and mentor Tim. Worth reading if you are interested in the healing applications of trance states, and equally interesting if you’re not. Tells the riveting story of how a respected couple’s therapist employed hypnosis to promote better emotional understanding and empathy between a husband and wife at odds.