2022: My Year in Books

"Always read something that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it." — P. J. O'Rourke

Burgess Meredith in the 1959 The Twilight Zone episode “Time Enough at Last.” This one still haunts me.

I’m taking next week off. Articles will resume as normal the following week. Happy New Year!

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For a decade now, I’ve been setting myself yearly reading challenges on GoodReads. This year I fell behind early on, but made a late season push and hit my goal of 35 books. This post will include brief reviews of 23 of them (I tried to limit the list to 20, but it was too hard to choose!). For whatever reason, I read an unusually small amount of fiction this year. You can see the full list here.

My Favorite Books Read in 2022

“American Ulysses: A Life of Ulysses S. Grant” (2016) by Ronald C. White Jr.

(This book was previously cited in the “Myth: Ulysses S. Grant was a drunk” section of Everything You Know About History Is Wrong: Part III)

There’s a mythology that grows around many figures of historical significance. Over time, these myths calcify into what people take for fact. The Ulysses S. Grant I expected to read about when I cracked open this book was revealed to be one such myth, and this meticulously researched whole-life biography does an excellent job of depicting the life of Grant in a more factually accurate light. It is said that history is written by the victors. Some of it is written by the sore losers, too. American Ulysses sets the record straight.

“Secret City: The Hidden History of Gay Washington, from FDR through Clinton” (2022) by James Kirchick

(This book was previously cited in the “Myth: J. Edgar Hoover was a cross-dresser” section of Everything You Know About History Is Wrong: Part II)

Secret City is a sprawling chronicle of the contributions of LGB people, public attitudes toward homosexuality, related events and scandals, and slices of what life was like for sexual minorities. Neither a traditional historical work nor a biography, Secret City is a series of personal histories following several dozen key figures, their stories tied together by the larger history of the US in general, and DC in particular, with many players reappearing at various points throughout the narrative. It felt, at first glance, like a rather niche subject matter — the history of a specific subset of people, in a specific city, during a specific time. I usually don’t go in for such things, and often find myself drawn to much more big picture examinations. But I’m glad I read this. A fascinating, eye-opening, and moving history that deserves a greater audience. Don’t let the length intimidate you — it’s an absolute page-turner.

“Of Boys and Men: Why the Modern Male Is Struggling, Why It Matters, and What to Do about It” (2022) by Richard V. Reeves

(This is an abbreviated excerpt from the longer review I wrote in Being a Man Is a Special Needs Condition)

Richard Reeves builds a comprehensive, data-driven, and undeniable case that something has gone very awry for men. He unleashes an onslaught of data that paints a stark picture — from education, to work, to home life — showing that women are not merely leaving men behind, but that boys and men appear to have various innate disadvantages. It’s hard not to walk away with the impression that, in every sense outside of physical strength, women are the stronger sex than men. Stronger mentally, stronger emotionally, and stronger in spirit, not to mention more self-sufficient, more disciplined, and exceedingly more adaptable. (See my full review linked above for a more in-depth look at the data.)

We don’t often change our minds, but Of Boys and Men is one of those rare books so well-researched and argued that it can change the way you think about these issues. Written in clear prose any layperson can grasp, but laden in nuanced data more educated audiences can appreciate, Reeves’s policy proposals, which he produces in the final chapters, are a good start, but not a true solution. That solution begins with a culture change, and cultures change one conversation at a time. And Of Boys and Men is nothing if not a conversation starter.

“Breaking Bread with the Dead: A Reader's Guide to a More Tranquil Mind” (2020) by Alan Jacobs

Breaking Bread is a book that shouldn’t have needed writing — a book that, a decade ago, would have languished in obscurity, tucked away in some forgotten self-help section for people who needed a bit of inspiration to fall in love with the classics. Today, depressingly, it’s all too relevant. A new generation has come of age, one whose educated wing hates history, hates the classics, hates the past, and won’t read anything if the author and every character aren’t woke by today’s standards.

Rather than deservedly ridiculing this brand of anti-intellectualism, Jacobs, with the patience of the 30-year educator he is, passionately and empathetically argues the case for why humanity’s collected wisdom has value — a case no prior generation of humans has needed to hear. I’m happy that Breaking Bread with the Dead was written. A part of me is even happy for the unfortunate trends that got it onto my radar, because it’s a truly wonderful piece of writing that I both enjoyed and benefited from, even though I’m not the target audience. 

“Democracy in America” (1835) by Alexis de Tocqueville

There’s a reason Tocqueville’s Democracy in America is one of the most highly referenced and quoted works about the US. Nearly 200 years after its publication, it remains an almost supernaturally keen wellspring of insights into American politics, culture, business, and life. What Whitman’s Leaves of Grass captured in poetry, Tocqueville immortalized more timelessly in his observations, connections, and analysis. It’s a very long book, and not marathoning material, but worth every moment — and worth rereading.

The Crisis of Liberalism and Institutions

“Liberalism and Its Discontents” (2022) by Francis Fukuyama

Of the many books on offer about why growing segments of Western societies are becoming disillusioned with liberalism, democracy, and capitalism, Fukuyama’s is the best I’ve read by far. Liberalism and Its Discontents manages to describe the problem with expert clarity and prescribe solutions in terms both accessible to everyday people and with substantial analysis for more educated readers to chew on. That Fukuyama does this in less than 200 pages is a marvel. For those who may have seen or heard Fukuyama in interviews without ever having read him, don’t prejudge his writing by his lack of spoken charisma. I almost made that mistake, and I’d have missed out.

“The Revolt of The Public and the Crisis of Authority in the New Millennium” (2014, 2018) by Martin Gurri

(This book was previously cited in the “The People” Are Morons — But We Must Trust Them)

Few books have come more widely recommended to me, and even fewer have lived up to the hype. There’s no shortage of purported explainers on how and why politics have so gone awry. Gurri’s is easily in the top three of the genre, tracing the intricate symbiosis between technological forces (the internet, the blogosphere, social media, and smartphones) and the decline of institutional trust. What makes Revolt such an indispensable resource for understanding the past 15 years isn’t merely how elegantly Gurri ties together many of the connections observers now suspect, but that he saw it all coming years before. Be sure to read the updated edition from 2018.

“A World after Liberalism: Philosophers of the Radical Right” (2021) by Matthew Rose

A chilling but illuminating look into the lives and thoughts of five 20th century thinkers — men most people will never have heard of, including those who follow in their footsteps — but whose ideas have paved the way for today’s new radical right. What has become known as the “alt-right”, among other names, did not emerge out of nowhere, nor is it going away. A World after Liberalism offers a glimpse into its origin story, psychology, and dark vision for society.

“Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth” (2021) by Jonathan Rauch

One of the most definitive recent works in this area, The Constitution of Knowledge addresses the problems of post-truth, declining institutional trust, populism, political polarization, and rising extremism with an interdisciplinary arsenal of history, science, philosophy, journalism, political science, and plain good sense. The book is very much written for a popular audience, and as such, some sections will feel like rehashing familiar territory to educated and politically obsessed readers, but the final chapter is so eloquent and stirring as to make up for it. A useful and concise one-stop shop to recommend anyone interested in the crisis of truth.

Other Nonfiction Selections

“Classified: The Untold Story of Racial Classification in America” (2022) by David E. Bernstein

It’s hard to describe to someone just how insane America’s system of official racial classification is without going down the rabbit hole — and Bernstein proves a deft tour guide. He gets into the weeds, recounting the details of one case after the next demonstrating how contradictory, incoherent, arbitrary, and unscientific our invented racial categories are. In so doing, Classified shows just how inaccurately these boxes represent those they purport to describe and how poorly they serve the public good, including the interests of minority groups. There are many impassioned works which endeavor to persuade the reader that “race” is a silly and harmful fiction. Classified doesn’t do that, because it doesn’t need to. The facts speak for themselves, more loudly than any polemic.

“Longshot: How Political Nobodies Took Andrew Yang National — and the New Playbook That Let Us Build a Movement” (2022) by Zach Graumann

(This is an abbreviated excerpt from the longer review I wrote in Longshots and the Power of Dreaming Big)

Zach Graumann was a 29-year-old with no political experience when he quit a lucrative Wall Street job to manage the presidential campaign of some random man. Longshot is the incredible and all-too-human story of grassroots politics. It wonderfully captures the emotional rollercoaster, inner tensions, and contradictions inherent to politics, documenting the many peaks and valleys of the campaign trail as only an insider’s perspective can. It’s a story about dreaming big, leaving it all on the field, and daring to hope — about having the courage to be vulnerable and risk embarrassment. 

This was a very personal book for me, as I detail at length in the longer review linked above. I’m not in Graumann’s book, but it was my story, too. My time as a political activist was often awkward and uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t trade my experience, and what it taught me, both about politics and myself, for anything. It was a wild ride, and Longshot is as captivating an account of it as you’re ever going to see in print.

“The Innocents Abroad” (1869) by Mark Twain

Festooned with frequent asides and digressions, many of which articulate popular beliefs of the time with a satirical conviction that must surely have soared over the heads of his audience, Twain’s international travel log shines with sardonic wit. I don’t think I’ve never read anything quite as mean or funny as Twain’s roasting of the people of Constantinople. Seeing Europe and the Middle East through the eyes of someone in the 1860s, as they then appeared, adds another particularly interesting dimension to the work.

“Jews Don't Count” (2021) by David Baddiel

A compelling if somewhat informal and UK-centric look at a very real phenomenon, David Baddiel explores the hypocrisies and moral blind spots of the curious exemption of Jews in the left’s identity politics. The briefness of the book makes it more accessible, though the weightiness of the subject matter deserves a longer treatment. Baddiel himself buys into left wing social justice movements more than I tend to, though in doing so, it gives his critique more force. Jews Don’t Count serves as a good primer.

“One Billion Americans: The Case for Thinking Bigger” (2020) Matthew Yglesias

The US is on track to be supplanted as the top global player due to the rise of China and other emerging powers. While America remains wealthier and more productive than its rivals per capita, diverging trajectories in population growth are closing the gap. The best way to prevent this, Yglesias argues, is to dramatically increase the US population — both through making it easier and more affordable to have and raise kids, and also by significantly increasing legal immigration.

If you’re coming into this book not already in favor of massive immigration increases, One Billion Americans probably isn’t going to completely change your mind — such is the nature of political bias. But outside of avowed closed border types, so long as you accept at least some of the premises Yglesias builds off of, the soundness of his nuanced, logistics-heavy arguments cannot help but move you several notches closer to his position, even if you can’t meet him all the way. One Billion Americans is a bold, even audacious thesis. But Yglesias constructs a respectable case — and he brings receipts. If you have the guts to challenge your views, you might just find that he's onto something.

“Capitalism and Freedom” (1962) by Milton Friedman

Friedman has a gift for clear, disciplined reasoning that knows its limits and does not overextend itself. He’s also not the extremist some remember him as. In Capitalism and Freedom, for example, he advocates for a negative income tax, a cousin to basic income. Sure, parts of this book read like boilerplate Republican economic talking points, but large portions persuasively and powerfully argue why capitalism is an engine of freedom. 

“Bad News: How Woke Media Is Undermining Democracy” (2021) by Batya Ungar-Sargon

(This book was previously cited in Journalism Should Be More Than a Rich Kids’ Hobby)

After a couple introductory chapters on the history of the American journalism industry that felt a little too long, Ungar-Sargon digs into the core of her thesis. In short, that journalism has, over the past century, gradually shifted from a working-class trade to a prestige profession reserved almost exclusively for lefty, elite-educated rich kids. She spends the remaining chapters tracing the many factors contributing to this trend, as well as the numerous downstream consequences of it, documenting particularly noteworthy examples, and interspersing brief interviews with various journalists and commentators.

While I have some differences with her politics (left-populism), the case Ungar-Sargon builds is, on the whole, cohesive, data-driven, and fundamentally sound. The focus and competence with which the narrative is laid out makes Bad News a useful and recommended book for anyone seeking to understand the trajectory of American journalism.

“Letters to a Young Contrarian” (2001) by Christopher Hitchens

Written as a series of letters to a certain kind of younger reader with whom Hitchens regularly corresponded, Letters to a Young Contrarian is not so much a treatise on contrarianism as it is on intellectual honesty. Though Hitchens would never have stood for it, this book could just as easily have been remarketed as How To Be an Intellectual. A fun little collection of missives, and one which, as all of Hitchens’s writings have a way of doing, makes this reader painfully aware that he is not as well-read as he thinks he is.

“Beyond Good and Evil” (1886) by Friedrich Nietzsche

There are snippets of genuine wisdom and insight to be found throughout this book, but they’re drowned within a maelstrom of digressive rants and tangents, most of which concern the uninteresting particularities of late 19th century European society. While Nietzsche is not known to be the most orderly of thinkers, Beyond Good and Evil was disorganized even for him. It makes you appreciate the value of editors, and Nietzsche could have used one — apart from his Nazi sister, that is. Beyond Good and Evil was not a great book, but I believe there’s a great book in there.

“The Loneliest Americans” (2021) by Jay Caspian Kang

Kang’s memoir and commentary as a Korean-American immigrant paints a picture that brings forth a range of emotions in both author and reader alike. At various points I was fascinated, baffled, surprised, and sympathetic. At other points, I rolled my eyes, annoyed at how much of the style and aesthetic of the “current moment” was shot through the narrative. I’m fairly certain the author is too much in his own head (I may not be Korean, but I know introversion well). By the end, though, you'll have had an honest glimpse into the angst, uncertainty, and in-betweenness of the “loneliest Americans.”

“The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History” (2014) Elizabeth Kolbert

A thoughtful interdisciplinary exploration of mass extinctions — past, present, and future. I was happy to see that the book did not focus solely on climate change, but on all sorts of factors, including many that aren’t often discussed. Kolbert did that journalisty thing where she tried to humanize every scientist and researcher she interviewed with a little human interest schtick. This is a pet peeve of mine. No one really cares if Dr. Finknottle, who studies newts in Belize, is lanky, wears lots of plaid, and speaks with unusual inflections — it’s a waste of the reader’s valuable time. Minor gripes aside, a solid book.

“How to Lie with Statistics” (1954) Darrell Huff

This is required reading if you have any interest in politics, science, or social science — especially if you were never taught any statistics as part of your formal education. Just as relevant as it was in the 1950s, How to Lie with Statistics is an informative, useful, and surprisingly funny little book. 

Fiction

“Jurassic Park” (1990) and “The Lost World” (1995) by Michael Crichton

Jurassic Park hooked me within sentences. A hugely enjoyable novel, if a little loose with the science. The film’s alterations from the book were wisely chosen, but the novel’s ability to put you inside the minds of the characters and explore the logistics of the park in greater detail balances the two out. The Lost World is nothing if not an entertaining and ridiculously action-packed read, but much sloppier than the original, and without much of its magic.

See also: “2021: My Compelling and Rich Year in Books”

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