The Best Books I Read in 2019

It’s an annual tradition of mine to publish my year’s reading list during our last week of content each December. This was a very strange year for reading, one I’m disappointed with. I usually take on 55 to 60 books, but this year managed only 41 (that I’ve been able to account for).

Writing a book—and reading it many times as part of that process—is to blame for quite a bit of the decrease in book count. Composing 80,000 words is, obviously, a marathon of an undertaking, one that requires sustained concentration over many months. I had to cut out almost all deep reading during the more intense writing periods, just to keep my mind focused. For someone who reads a book a week in a manner akin to exercise or therapy, that was a painful sacrifice.

I did something (in retrospect) really dumb, too: I decided that this was the year I should read Crime and Punishment, one of those books that has been on my list for seemingly a couple decades. I was hoping the fiction would be easier to blend with my writing, but what a slog. I usually read 30 to 60 minutes when I go to bed before I fall asleep, but I was routinely up writing until 2:00 or even 3:00 AM. The combination of fatigue and Dosteovsky’s writing put me to sleep in minutes, dramatically reducing my page count.

Despite, I did manage to do some meaningful reading this year. My oldest daughter, Chloe, was assigned Night by Elie Wiesel in one of her 8th grade classes. We read the book simultaneously, discussed it at length, and then was provided the opportunity to visit the Holocaust Memorial Museum when I was doing a TED talk in Washington DC.

I also chose to modify my typical Lenten reading this year and, based on a recommendation, re-read (for something like the 15th time) Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. I found it deeply satisfying, especially since that was near the end of my own writing.

Of the books I read this year, here are my top five recommendations along with three must-mentions. The entire list, as always, is available on my Pinterest account.

1. Dignity: Seeking Respect in Back Row America, by Chris Arnade

I don’t think there was a more important book that was published this year than Dignity by Chris Arnade (and I’m including my own in that). I had him on the podcast twice (September 2017 | August 2019) because the way he is describing the world as I’m witnessing and experiencing it is so much better than anything I’ve been capable of doing. It’s the only book I’ve insisted that my well-read journalist wife read (and, again, that includes my own).

Arnade travels among the poor and downtrodden throughout America and finds a commonality that transcends race or geography: the need for dignity. I read the book and listened to it on audio. If you do the latter, please also buy the hardcover because the pictures are critical to the narrative.

2. A Death in the Rainforest: How a Language and a Way of Life Came to an End in Papua New Guinea, by Don Kulick

The word “fax” is the same in every culture because all the cultures of the world that have fax machines were connected to each other at the time of its invention. I learned that insight years ago when I was reading an article about how language is used to identify migration patterns, trade routes, and other insights into ancient civilizations. Shared words, in a sense, date contact between cultures.

This beautiful book, in a sad yet fascinating way, documents the opposite: the shockingly rapid loss and abandonment of a complex language and, by extension, a way of life. This isn’t some anti-colonial rant but instead a deep dive into an obscure village, one whose isolation can’t even protect it from creeping modernity. Much like how Jared Diamond prompts us to witness ourselves in more primitive societies (thus making them less backward-seeming and ourselves, hopefully, more humble), this book will make you appreciate how much subtlety, nuance, and beauty we don’t even know that we’ve lost.

3. Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know About the People We Don’t Know, by Malcolm Gladwell

There is an entire segment of society that likes to hate on Malcolm Gladwell, as if his work is simple like a pop song. I’m definitely not in that group—I adore Gladwell’s writing— but I prepared myself to not enjoy his latest book (and it might simply have been that it came out at the same time as mine but, for obvious reasons, had quite a bit more marketing). I bought the audiobook version and can’t recommend it enough.

In very Gladwell fashion, I started knowing the narrative intuitively, sensing where it would go and what the conclusion would be, and by the end I found myself in a completely different space, eternally grateful for having been brought there. Do yourself a favor and listen to this one.

4. Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee, by Casey Cep

I’m not sure how I wound up with this book, but I’m now ready to read Go Set a Watchman, a book that my wife—who shares my love for To Kill a Mockingbird—suggested that I not read. I actually understand it now, where it came from, and how it relates to Harper Lee’s one and only commercial success.

And that is what Furious Hours is really about. How did the young woman who wrote such a powerful and important book, someone so obviously brilliant and gifted, not produce another manuscript? Not just another success, but any other books at all? As someone who rarely struggles with writer’s block so long as I’m not forced to write something (which, ironically, then often makes writing impossible), it was painful to have some insight into Lee’s struggles.

If Mockingbird has significant meaning for you, you’ll appreciate the deep backdrop Furious Hours provides.

5. Losing my Cool: Love, Literature, and a Black Man’s Escape from the Crowd, by Thomas Chatterton Williams

As much as an analytical engineer/planner is capable of, I’ve embraced the challenge of broadening the backgrounds and experiences of the voices I am exposed to. This has meant some added intention about reading, listening, and watching things I probably wouldn’t normally consume. I’ve shared some of these in prior years and been both (unfairly) praised and (unfairly) ridiculed for my selections. For the most part, this is a private pursuit, so I’ve kept many of those selections off my annual lists.

I did come across—on Twitter—an interesting and thoughtful man named Thomas Chatterton Williams (you should follow him—people like him have redeemed Twitter for me). I ordered his book and found it the right mix of accessible and challenging. It’s his story of growing up, making choices, trying to fit in (but not really), and finally walking away from a prior self-identify and into a new one, both authentic. His new book, Self Portrait in Black and White: Unlearning Race, is sitting on my Kindle waiting for me to (finally, God willing) finish Crime and Punishment. His really beautiful writing has been featured in many major publications and I’ve also listened to him interviewed on a half dozen shows, or more. I definitely recommend diving in with an open heart and equally open mind.

Honorable Mentions:

• Midnight in Chernobyl: The Untold Story of the World’s Greatest Nuclear Disaster, by Adam Higginbotham: I read the book and then found out about the HBO series. This event happened during my youth and I remember the news clearly. Finding out now how disconnected that news was from reality is as scary as it is fascinating.

• Alienated America: Why Some Places Thrive While Others Collapse, by Timothy Carney: This is another book that I would have read sooner if not for my fear of confirmation bias. That being said, it was far more illuminating – and challenging – than I perceived, and I highly recommend it to anyone trying to understand the cultural ramifications of fragile places. I also got to meet Tim Carney in person this year and, I must say, he’s a very nice guy.

• The Coddling of the American Mind: How Good Intentions and Bad Ideas Are Setting Up a Generation for Failure, by Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt: The latest by Janathan Haidt. I’ve read all of his books and watched a ridiculous number of his videos. Lie Carney, he seems like a guy I would like a ton, but unlike Carney, I didn’t get a chance to meet him (despite my attempts – he’s a busy guy). If you want to get into Haidt, start with The Happiness Hypothesis, but make sure you get to this one by the end.

• The Impeachers: The Trial of Andrew Johnson and the Dream of a Just Nation, by Brenda Wineapple: One of my close neighbors is also my high school AP History teacher, a really amazing mentor who impacted my life in some important ways (and still does). He recommended this book to me and, like all his other recommendations, it didn’t disappoint. If you want to understand impeachment and have some real context for what it means to live in a divided nation during trying times, this book will do it.

• The Case Against Education: Why the Education System is a Waste of Time and Money, by Bryan Caplan: I couldn’t leave this book off the list. It was a ton of fun and, truth be told, a massive helping of confirmation bias. As someone who is essentially autodidactic, I always grasped the signaling aspect of getting college degrees and other credentials, but I’ve never grasped why employers put such an emphasis on them. Or pay such a premium for them. I never have, and I’ve run my own operations for two decades now. When candidates say “free college” I hear “free signaling”, which rather defeats the purpose. I realize there’s more too it than that, as does the author, but not much. If your identity is wrapped up in your credentials, you might want to read this one in a support group.

If you’d like to see all of the books I read this year, do make sure to check out my list on Pinterest. You can also go back and see my recommendations for 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, and 2014.

Top photo via Unsplash.

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