With my return to library borrowing after the snow melted, I had realized that 2026 found me reading less non-fiction than ever (well, for nearly twenty years, anyway).
And, why? If anything, I have more questions about the world than ever. So, I resolved to browse in the non-fiction (and not just the 300s and 800s either). Calling oneself a curious reader requires unleashing of one’s curiosity.
One result was Shohini Ghose’s Her Space Her Time (2023) which proved fascinating. (I even watched her TED Talk on Quantum Computing.) She begins by noting that just 90 Black women have PhDs in physics in the United States out of 60,000 degrees awarded between 1972 and 2017. And, as of 2023, there’s not a single Black woman holding a professorship in physics or astronomy in Canada. (Ghose herself is a prof at Wilfrid Laurier University in Canada, and she was routinely the only woman of colour as an international student in the United States—in Florida and New Mexico.)
She offers a lot of facts but focusses on relationships, so it was surprisingly compelling. In short, she presents a narrative (often about how/where the women stumbled/backed into this sphere) and hooked me on story.
What have I retained? Honestly, not a lot! Partly because I raced through this, in a state of excitement twinned with disbelief that almost all of this was news (sometimes centuries later). Partly because I need to layer new information, and this was new territory.
As it turns out: physics is not boring and it’s never been the exclusive domain of men even though women’s names have been routinely (and sometimes deliberately) omitted (and sometimes excised) from the historical record. Here are the women discussed, and I’d love to know how many you recognise:
Annie Jump Cannon, Anna Draper, Williamina Fleming, Antonia Maury, Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin, the Women of the Harvard College Observatory, Henrietta Leavitt, Margaret Burbidge, Mary Golda Ross, Joyce Neighbors, Dilhan Eryurt, Claudia Alexander, the Women Who Powered NASA’s Space Program, Harriet Brooks, Marie Sklodowska-Curie, Lise Meitner, Marietta Blau, Hertha Warnbacher, Bibha Chowdhuri, Elise Frota-Pessoa, Maria Mitchell, Vera Rubin, Wu Chievn-Shiung, and the Women of the Atomic Age.
Alongside these women’s stories, Ghose also explains relevant concepts. (I think I finally understand parallax: for reals.) And she also presents context, mentioning for instance that one in four married women went to work after America entered WWII in 1941 and, by 1943, women comprised 2/3 of the aviation workforce. As a way of introducing Mary Golda-Ross, one new recruit (and a descendant of the Anigiduwagi/Cherokee leader John Ross). Ghose has a great instinct for providing just enough information to allow for a foundation to take shape and, strangely, despite my inherent resistance to non-fiction reading, I can easily imagine rereading this cover-to-cover (and, hopefully, retaining more of it) and then seeking out related books.
Marina Warner’s Stranger Magic (2011) landed in my stack because I’ve enjoyed her writing on fairy tales and other literature; her work on the Arabian Nights is divided into five parts (the fifth being about the magic of flight, which is why I chose to photograph it with the NYT spread focusing on Charles Ross’s land art) and I found it quite interesting. In theory it should have been a more comfortable read, pulled from the 398s, but because I don’t know the Arabian Nights very well, all the history and talk of versions and previous studies was as new-to-me as talk of physics (and the supporting material in the back amounts to more than 100 pages).
The sheer bookishness pulled me through the exposition about literary and historical roots and connections, as did the personal disclosures (her favourite tales and characters) and links to modern publications (from Dick King-Smith’s The Sheep-Pig to Barrack Obama’s memoir). If you’ve read more of the stories from the Arabian Nights, this is one for you.
For some insight on Latin American and Spanish-language writing, I chose José Saramago’s The Notebook, his writings from 2008 (translated by Amanda Hopkinson and Daniel Hahn in 2010). It was there: thoughts on Carlos Fuentes (Mexico), Jorge Amado (Brazil), and Borges (Argentina), for instance. Along with plenty of bookishness: from the publishing fairs in Lisbon and Frankfurt, to talk of poets from Pessoa to Darwish, to talk of books on shelves and in shops (like the Livraria Cultura in Brazil), and summer reading in lieu of a holiday.
What I wasn’t expecting to find was writing about an American president who “expelled truth from the world, establishing the age of lies that now flourishes in its place”. Writing about the Left: “It doesn’t act, it doesn’t risk taking a step.” and writing about Gaza: “Let every demonstrator bear in mind that the violence, humiliation, and scorn that the Palestinians have been victims of from the Israelis has been going on for sixty years without interruption.” Go ahead: check the date. (I did.) An unexpectedly relevant and engaging volume.
Also unexpectedly interesting was Peter Wohlleben’s The Weather Detective (2010; translated by Ruth Ahmedzai-Kemp, 2018) which drew my attention because of The Hidden Life of Trees. It’s written for the common reader rather than a science-y sort, and I learned why daisies close up during the rain (to protect their pollen so it will be there later for the bees) and how (there are two separate rows of petals, that are constantly growing to facilitate the mechanic of open-close).
I also learned that the nursery rhyme about red skies is correct (and why) and that the saying about swallows (when they fly high…) is not. AND… that our garden beds move by 24-32 inches “in the course of a day”? Because of the pull of the moon and tides, even though it can only be measured with sophisticated equipment. This blew my mind even though I can’t even properly articulate how/why. If you read the book, maybe you can explain it to me! If you enjoy Margaret Renkl but wish she wasn’t so sad, you’ll probably like his books.
A typical browse at the library mostly hits the same markers each time, choosing a starting point based on who else is browsing and shifting without thinking. Disrupting that, forcing myself to browse the non-fiction, required a separate trip. On the heels of having recently chosen many other books–more typical choices. And I had to set aside ideas I’ve absorbed about marketing–little clues I follow based on artwork and titles to guess whether a book will be a good match. And I depended on the very jacket copy I deliberately avoid with fiction.
This is probably going to be a slim non-fiction year for me anyway, but I’m glad to have tried these. Have you found a new way to #LoveYourLibrary lately? (Hosted by Bookish Beck on the last Monday of each month.)
I think most public libraries in the US use Dewey. I recently persuaded the children’s librarian at the library where I work one day a month to post a guide on the nonfiction shelves (I had to request it several times anonymously in her suggestion box). The older children seem delighted to be able to browse successfully without asking for help. The Boston Public Library uses the Library of Congress system because it’s considered more specific for a research library.
I have read much less nonfiction over the last year or two. I think it is because I sought out more comfort reading to avoid the atrocities being perpetrated by the alleged president. Also, my library books always seem overdue or about to be overdue so I focus on the faster reads instead.
I knew which sections of the stacks I liked even before I understood which numbers were associated with which subjects (and I was stubborn about my likes and dislikes too), but I did like learning that there was a code in place! How interesting that Boston uses LOC instead; I think that’s a good system to learn/know as well, even if one doesn’t regularly use libraries for research purposes.
In theory, this same situation has inspired the contrary response for me, north of the U.S. Because I feel like I don’t have the language/experience/history to articulate my opinions and observations about everything that’s happening (other than… “it’s horrible”), so I have been reading more non-fiction than usual about certain subjects in the past eight years or so… but, mostly in periodicals (and in fits-and-starts, not like starting a book at the beginning and reading through to the end).
I’ve been rereading some childhood favourites too, this year, and one that’s in my soon stack, which I recall you love as well, is Peyton’s Flambards. On my last reread I’d forgotten the events of the last volume, so I’m curious to see how they read now, now that I know what’s coming…
The Weather Detective sounds like my kind of non-fiction too.
Because it’s set in England, not alllll of it was relevant/recognisable but, even so, I found it interesting.
The Weather Detectives sounds right up my alley!
It’s super readable. The kind of stuff you can imagine on one of those tear-a-day desk calendars!
Marina Warner is a fascinating writer. She sometimes pops up on podcasts or radio shows over here (and occasionally at book events), and I always find her really interesting to listen to. Like Karen, I might have to put Stranger Magic on my list. Could you say a little more about her writing on fairy tales, as mentioned in your intro to this section? Was it an article or a book?
She must be an interesting guest! I started with From The Beast to the Blonde, which goes back to 1994, but she’s written a few like that, and it’s a subject that comes up in her essay collections, too. (I had a copy of Signs and Wonders too, and that also could have been the reason behind that, but I can’t put hands on it just now.) She isn’t afraid to look at the darker bits of those stories (which I suspect could appeal to you, how those stories get retold in different eras and via different media).
Your non-fiction books always intimidate me for some reason – literacy criticism just isn’t my jam haha I find myself reaching for more pop psychology these days, easier reads. I just started Unbreakable by Vonda Wright, which is all about exercise and eating healthy as you get older. Lots of self-help for me!
The only overlap I’ve noticed between our stacks, with this kind of stuff, is Oliver Burkeman: he’s a favourite of mine, so down-to-earth and practical!
I read a book about astronomy a number of years ago, the name of which I can’t recall at the moment, that had a significant portion about the Women of the Harvard College Observatory. Amazing scientists, every one of them! I didn;t know Wohlleben wrote a book about the weather. Gonna have to look into that. As for loving my library, I have a bout 6 books checked out and more on hold that I am hoping to get through before the weather turns and makes biking to the library more trouble than it’s worth.
Taking comfort from your vague recollection (at least, of the title!): it’s funny how, even when one loses track of most–even all–of the details, a book can have affected you strongly even so. It felt like a door had blown open!
I remember you having written about his Trees book; there are a lot of little useful bits about weather and, also, the chapters are very short, so it made for good before-bed reading at times when most other books seemed fraught.
I like that description of Wohlleben as a less-sad Renkl! I’ve never read him, but should.
Maybe he’s just as sad but doesn’t show it? 😉 I’m not sure if I ever properly finished Trees, because it was in such demand when I borrowed it originally; if you decide to read it, LMK! 🙂
I’m curious: What’s the significance of the numbers, “300s and 800s”? Do they indicate in the library system the difficulty of the book or the type of topic?
I have Wohlleben’s Hidden Life of Trees, which I haven’t yet read, but I’m going to add Weather Detective to my TBR anyway.
Ohhhhh, do American public libraries not use the Dewey Decimal numbering system? The Dewey 300s include social histories of various groups, and the 800s include literary biographies and essays as well as poetry: I hang out there a lot, and ignore most of the rest of the hundreds. I think you’ll love the Weather book: it’s full of so many interesting and useful tidbits that you can use everyday! (Who woulda thought?)
Oh!! Yea, they use it here — or so I think because it’s often mentioned. I just don’t know anything about that numbering system, lol. But good to know about those numbers.
When there were bookclubs on Habitica (an early and fun, pixellated and RPGish, organisation and planning tool… which I still enjoy, but they don’t have communities anymore) one of the bookclubs was devoted to the Dewey system, and each month they picked one of the “hundreds” to encourage you to browse and read outside your comfort zone… it’s just one way to stretch a little while still leaving room for your individual predilections. That’s when I really noticed how narrow my browsing habits were (and I’ve always read more fiction than non-fiction to start with too)!
Oh, you’re a bad influence – the Warner and Saramago have gone straight on the wishlist!!
You know I’d be lying if I said sorry. hee hee And I love Warner’s essays to start with, you probably do too, but these notebooks made me want to take a long look at Saramago for sure.