In 2025, as usual, I was reading rather indisciminately. At the start of the year, I’d set out to read with more intention, to not grab random books from the library catalogue purely based on their “vibes”, and to not give in to an irrational craving for consuming just about any readable material. Needless to say, I ended up reading a sizeable chunk of forgettable books. Not that they were objectively bad; I was simply indifferent because the books didn’t speak to me at a personal level, particularly at the moment in time when I was reading them. Still, there were a few standout books which did leave some lasting impression. Here, I’m listing 12 such books, both to retain some notes on how they have shaped my experience of the year of 2025, and to remind myself of the kind of works that I should seek out more going forward, for a generally more enjoyable, memorable reading experience. These books are listed here in chronological order of reading.
We Will Be Jaguars by Nemonte Nenquimo
I read We Will Be Jaguars as part of my personal 2025 Reading Climate Books project (which overall didn’t pan out as expected). I came in with a vague idea about the fight and resistance of Indigenous communities in the Amazon region against oil drilling and environmental exploitation, and was left with deeply personal stories and memories that somehow vividly and concretely amplified the Waorani worldviews and identities beyond the struggles. Nemonte retells her life through segments of her memories from childhood to her current role as an activist and a spokesperson of a whole movement. She captures the personal and collective identities of the Waorani, while refusing to translate or amend them for outsider readers. The book articulates an earnest yet dignified call to action that aligns itself with global movements of Indigenous rights, decolonialization, and environmentalism, without assimilating the unique perspectives of the Waorani into something conventional and stereotypical. Still, I did wonder a few times while reading about the under-described relationship and partnership between Nemonte and her husband Mitch Anderson, and how much this influenced the writing and editing of the book.
If anyone is interested in reading and discussing this book in coming weeks, feel free to let me know, because some friends and I are planning a book club session for We Will Be Jaguars around March!
Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton
Around this time of the year, I went through a few books of the same theme: encounters between humans and nature, in rather contained, semi-artificial settings. This book was a more memorable meditation on attention, care, and restraint to me compared to other books. Dalton recounts her experience of rescuing and raising a leveret in rural England, blending careful documentation of the process with introspection on solitude, rural life, and the ethics of intervention. What I liked was that the book didn’t veer too much into sentimentality, drawing the line between naturalistic observations and subjecting wildlife to anthropomorphic descriptions. In essence, the book focuses on the discipline required to appreciate something without possessing it. I was immersed in the writing thanks to the narrowness of its lens: days, routines, seasons, and the fragile boundary between human and wild. The prose is controlled and patient, curious and observant. From this account, I realized that care for my environment could also be expressed through deliberate distance, not always ardent attachment.
The Right to Sex by Amia Srinivasan
In 2025, I went through a period of consuming a lot of media and think pieces on the topics of gender and sex. It was a recurring debate topic given the political atmosphere around gender tension and sex discrimination and prejudice. This book helped me process a lot of these thoughts and arguments by taking familiar debates about desire and consent and pressing on their most uncomfortable edges. The collection of essays explore topics ranging from pornography and incels to race, disability, and sexual autonomy, consistently asking what justice can and cannot demand of our desires. Rather than offering neat conclusions which I am often tempted to get at, the book exposes the tension between political ideals and private experiences and longing. I got the sense that the book continuously walked me through different lines of thinking with concrete evidence as prompts for me to experience the topics through yet another layer. To me it was less a volume of opinions and arguments than a well of cues and questions to help me probe further, and to not compromise complex, multifaceted perspectives with black-and-white stances.
Intervention Earth by Gwynne Dyer
This book, along with a couple of other ones I read around the same time, got me to think more objectively about the state of climate interventions today. Ten years ago, I concluded while in university that geoengineering and attempts to “fix” climate change through ambitious, artificial means of altering physical and natural environments were not only far-fetched visions but also a weak excuse to not urgently draw down emissions. Today, we’re looking at a vastly different state of the world, and we perhaps can no longer afford to dismiss this path. I remain a big skeptic to all-things techno-optimist, but this book made me face another reality about how essential “intervention Earth” will soon become the primary if not sole pathway to lift humanity out of a looming crisis of slow action (or reaction). Reading this offered a sobering realization of how little progress we have made against the necessary timeline and commitment in this climate movement, and how much damage we are bound to experience. At the same time, the book evidently tries to bring a notion of hope in the kind of ingenuity and innovation that humanity can bring to the table. I for one would like to believe the author’s perspective on this, but I can’t help but feel doubt about how we might very well let this “plan B” slip through our fingers in enough time. I suppose we shall see.
The Correspondent by Virginia Evans
This novel reminded me of 84, Charing Cross Road (which is a non-fiction work rather than fiction) in its structure and form. I am indeed a sucker for storytelling done in a different form than the typical narrative. The Correspondent recounts a woman’s life, reconstructed entirely through the letters she sends and oftentimes not receives replies to. The novel traces decades of relationships, ambitions, and quiet disappointments without ever resorting to exposition. As the letters accumulate, a portrait of the protagonist emerges more distinctly, showing someone who is both deeply observant and persistently overlooked. I really enjoyed peering into the mind of the character while also appreciating the lost art of letter writing. The book triggered in me a realization that correspondence and letters aren’t only means of communication but also a tool or device for understanding and making sense of the human mind and experience. What I also find special about the book is how it redefines the value of life, not through events that happen, but through the introspection and reflection that might as well go unnoticed and/or unanswered.
Kukum by Michel Jean
I got this book as a gift (thank you Tania!) and only read it a few months later. Inspired by the real-life story of Michel Jean’s great-grandmother, this novel follows a French Canadian woman who marries into the Innu community and comes to embrace its worldview, rhythms, and values. With vivid details and descriptions, this work of fiction blends some real elements of the author’s family and a shared history of the Innu ways of life and the land and culture they have nurtured for generations. It tells stories about daily survival, seasonal movement, and relationships to territory as foundations of identity, which, through time, has been eroded by historical and colonial pressures. I always feel like Quebec has relatively less of a modern tie to Indigenous histories, at least compared to other provinces. I was moved learning about this history of the land and the stories of how individuals overcame cultural barriers to build their lives and grow a family together. It’s a beautiful book that honors and preserves the collective memory and lived history, which modernization tends to neglect and undermine.
Ecology of Wisdom by Arne Næss
I got this book on a trip in the Nordics, so it was a pleasant experience reading it while taking in the view of miles and miles of forested land in Norway. I had studied deep ecology in school, but never had the chance to look further for writings by Arne Næss beyond a few articles and commentaries in class assignments. This book feels both like a manifesto and an invitation to rethink what it means to live well on Earth. Næss brings together philosophy, ecology, and personal reflection to articulate the foundations of deep ecology. I especially appreciated the connection drawn between environmental stewardship and self-realization as a personal pursuit. In my work, I barely have the opportunity to see environmentalism through a spiritual and personal lens, because the issues always seem to demand some technical and political buy-in from outside. Yet, this small volume quite seamlessly integrates two perspectives that are often on my mind, just typically in discrete forms. The essays aren’t exactly easy to read, since they can be meandering given the philosophical and theoretical tendencies. But while reading this, I was once again reminded of how worthwhile it is to look beyond the distinct pieces of life and observe matters through a more holistic, comprehensive lens, even if the modern world tends to steer clear of anything spiritual or personal in discussing shared crises.
The Satisfaction Café by Kathy Wang
I was first intrigued by the vibrant cover of this book. There was also something appealing about the title, making you wonder what a satisfaction café could possibly be about. Whatever my guess was, I didn’t expect to go through a whole-life narrative about a woman whose life is punctuated by some dramatic but also comforting events and moments. All in all, the story wasn’t spectacular in a way you would expect of a novel. It was a steadfast recounting of life events and family matters, but what emerged through this was also the deeply memorable attitudes and perspectives of the protagonist, Joan. The inner landscape of Joan’s mind is never explicitly described in the book, because the story emphasizes the turns of events more than the inner introspection. Yet, I could understand, relate to, and empathize with Joan simply through her actions and the way she navigates life. I was quite impressed by how the author managed to weave this psychological study of the character into a rather objective account of a life.
Art Work by Sally Mann
I wasn’t familiar with Sally Mann and her works before reading this, but oh boy I was thoroughly floored. This memoir is as unflinching as Mann’s photographs, refusing to separate art from the life that produces it. She writes about her career, family, and creative process with startling candor while also leaving room for vulnerability and trauma to emerge and heal through the very act of creating. The book moves fluidly between technical discussions of photography and personal recollections, sometimes in such a matter-of-fact manner that I was genuinely astounded by this way of dealing with personal wounds and how these translate to creative works. I liked the precision and confidence she applies to scrutinizing herself and her art as well as the pragmatic information around how she organizes her mind and creative processes. I haven’t read a whole lot of memoirs by visual artists (usually more literary figures or authors), but this has given me a peek into an art form which I’m not automatically drawn to, and so many valuable lessons about how to create and do art without pretension and defensiveness.
The Bombshell by Darrow Farr
A pleasant surprise and guilty pleasure out of all the books I read last year. I had little knowledge of the political and historical tension in and around Corsica, and this book was a wildly absorbing introduction to this. I can’t comment on the historical accuracy captured in the backdrop of this story, but I did enjoy the character building and the psychological case study of this specific Stockholm syndrome dynamic. Though the story is entertaining, I was most curious about the notion that how the radicalization of an individual (or any form of mindset shifts) has more to do with the immediate setting of their consciousness and the relationships they build with other individuals in this circle, than the actual ideas, beliefs, and reasoning they’re meant to understand and absorb. This probably would make less of an appealing focal point for the novel, but I felt like this alternate version would have given the drama and thriller more substance and social commentary.
How to Take Smart Notes by Sönke Ahrens
This book quite literally changed my life. It introduces to a mainstream audience the Zettelkasten method, which breaks away from the conventional approach to note-taking to emphasize pattern-making besides information storage. I might write a dedicated blog post with my takeaways from this method, but essentially, the book teaches both analog and digital forms of documenting notes in ways that sprawl out to an ever-growing network of ideas, not merely a sequenced or segregated notes based on sources, timing, or logistics of knowledge sharing. The note-taking method also prioritizes personalized takeaways over replicating the exact wording of how information is shared. I’ve adopted this new note-taking method (though not as elaborately as the book’s guidance) and quite frankly it has helped me think about topics more holistically and systematically. I know with practice, this method will continue to make my intellectual work and studies thrive more.
If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies by Eliezer Yudkowsky & Nate Soares
Oh my, what a way to close the year. While Artificial Intelligence has become more or less mainstreamed across many aspects of life, the really alarming viewpoints about the future risks of AI continue to stay as news article headlines rather than actual day-to-day conversation topics. This book wastes no time with pleasantries and ambivalent, two-sided debates. It positions AI as an almost-certain existential threat to humanity (you can tell from the title). The authors lay out technical, strategic, and philosophical arguments for why misaligned AI could be catastrophic, through scenarios of how AI agents and models can behave in fairly concrete contexts. The tone is stark and uncompromising which can come across as alarmist, and the authors aren’t shy to declare they’d rather be ridiculed for their speculations than not articulating these concerns. Given the reality of how AI is currently used and regulated (or not regulated, rather), I share the authors’ anxiety. I don’t have sufficient understanding of what direction future AI models can possibly take to form a full argument on the topic, but I am convinced that the issues must not be seen as a distant abstraction, but something already taking roots in how we deal with the technologies today.