As 2024 draws to a close, I’ve taken some time to reflect on the books that made the greatest impact on me this year. From deep dives into technology and politics to introspective reads on life and risk, these are the titles that enriched my year – and might just enrich yours too.
If you pressed me on the subject, I would say that my very favourite book of 2024 was Burn Book: A Tech Love Story by veteran tech journalist Kara Swisher.
2024 marks thirty years since I first “got on the internet” when I was studying at university. I started out sending emails and browsing Usenet using PINE, then had my world turned upside down when NCSA Mosaic and the first versions of Netscape Navigator allowed me to start surfing the web. Since then I’ve been lucky enough to follow an enjoyable career building distributed software systems that rely on the internet.
During this same period, Kara Swisher has covered that ever-changing technology sector for outlets including The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times. Burn Book is a sharp, irreverent critique of the technology industry, blending memoir, satire and journalism. It delivers a candid account of tech’s rise to dominance and its often-problematic relationship with power, ethics, and accountability. Swisher doesn’t shy away from naming names, offering unfiltered takes on figures such as Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, and many others. There is a wealth of great anecdotes here, and no small amount of disdain for many of the man-child Silicon Valley tech bros who have changed our world so completely over the last thirty years.
My favourite technical book of the year was the second edition of Building Microservices: Designing Fine-Grained Systems by Sam Newman, who I had the pleasure of learning from when I attended his two-day Microservices workshop at NDC Porto 2024 in October. Although ostensibly focused on Microservices, this 600-page tome offers plenty of good advice that applies more broadly to the design, implementation, and operation of any modern software system. Newman writes engagingly, backing up his candid opinions with case studies and offering concrete advice wherever possible. Highly recommended.
Away from the code face, I’ve appreciated the insights into effective technical leadership that I have gained from two complementary books Staff Engineer: Leadership Beyond the Management Track by Will Larson and The Staff Engineer’s Path: A Guide for Individual Contributors Navigating Growth and Change by Tanya Reilly. Both offer plenty of practical advice and insights for anyone in (or aspiring to enter) a “Staff Plus” role.
Politics
I spent some of my early summer weekends accumulating blisters as I walked the local streets delivering campaign material to help re-elect our excellent local MP Keir Mather. For background encouragement I did this while listening to the audiobook of This Time No Mistakes: How to Remake Britain by Will Hutton. It is a wide-ranging treatise covering over a century of political history on both sides of the Atlantic and attributes the UK’s current political and economic challenges to persistent adherence to free-market ideologies and minimal state intervention over the past 45 years. Drawing inspiration from early 20th-century New Liberalism and the post-1945 Labour government, Hutton advocates for a blend of ethical socialism and progressive liberalism, which he refers to as the “We Society”, balancing individual aspirations with collective welfare. Occasionally I found this a little too dry and worthy for my liking, with the recounted historical events seeming far removed from current day politics. But generally it kept me inspired and motivated, particularly in the more forward-looking sections that offered a manifesto for change.
My favourite book by a politician this year was only tangentially about politics. One Boy, Two Bills and a Fry-Up: A Memoir of Growing Up and Getting On is an engaging memoir by current Health Secretary Wes Streeting, recounting his experiences growing up in poverty with teenage parents who struggled to make ends meet. Despite the hardships faced, Streeting highlights the love and support from his family, and also the opportunities afforded to him by impactful teachers, ultimately leading to attending Cambridge University and embarking on a career in politics. Streeting wears his heart on his sleeve, making for a very personal memoir that offers human-centric vignettes into the factors that shaped his ideology.
Money and Risk
I read a second autobiography this summer by another boy from a modest upbringing in East London who made a better life for himself, though this one followed a very different path from that of the Health Secretary. The Trading Game: A Confession by Gary Stevenson details the author’s ascent to become a leading trader at Citibank, working on the Short-Term Interest Rate Trading desks in London and later Tokyo. The memoir delves into the opulent yet morally ambiguous lifestyle of high finance, exposing systemic flaws and the widening wealth gap in the years that followed the 2007-8 global financial crisis. Despite his success, Stevenson grappled with the ethical implications of profiting from the economic downturns that adversely affected the less affluent, and he has since become an advocate for economic equality, using his platform to educate the public on financial disparities. I didn’t particularly relish the chapters describing bankers’ hedonism, but I was fascinated by later sections detailing the corporate games played by Citibank as Stevenson sought to leave the organisation.
Most of us will never have the levels of money that bring the kind of ethical dilemmas faced by Gary Stevenson. For the rest of us, advice on how to manage our own more modest finances can be found in The Psychology of Money: Timeless lessons on wealth, greed, and happiness by Morgan Housel. Housel argues that financial success and security is not necessarily linked to intelligence or mathematical skill but to understanding human nature and managing emotions like greed, fear, and envy. The book is written in a conversational and approachable style, combining research with 19 short stories emphasising that managing money well requires understanding yourself and your relationship with money.
In a similar vein, On the Edge: The Art of Risking Everything by Nate Silver digs into the psyche and strategies of individuals who thrive in high-stakes environments, from poker players to venture capitalists. He introduces the concept of “The River”, representing a community of analytical, independent-minded and risk tolerant individuals, and contrasts it with “The Village,” symbolising risk-averse, conventional thinkers. There is a huge amount of information in this book about gambling, particularly poker, which rekindled some of my interest in the game theory branch of mathematics. There are also some fascinating chapters recounting Silver’s meetings with Sam Bankman-Fried during the tumultuous period following cryptocurrency exchange FTX’s collapse and preceding his incarceration. It’s clear that Bankman-Fried had a very different relationship with risk than most of us, and this serves as a cautionary tale, illustrating the perils of risk-taking without understanding the potential consequences.
Game-playing and risk-taking without the potential for such life-changing consequences is the subject of Around the World in 80 Games by British mathematician Marcus du Sautoy. The Jules Verne-inspired narrative circumnavigates the globe and explores a diverse array of games, from ancient board games like the Royal Game of Ur to contemporary favourite such as Settlers of Catan. It considers the cultural significance of games, and the roles they play in different societies, in addition to investigating the mathematical concepts underpinning these games, including probability, game theory and combinatorics. Du Sautoy also explores what makes games fun and interesting, captivating players into wishing for just one more turn (e.g. Wingspan, Ticket To Ride) compared to those that can drag on interminably and lead to boredom and resentment (Monopoly). In 2024 I have very much appreciated the fact that my children are of an age where they are able and willing to play decent games like 7 Wonders, Darwin’s Journey and Everdell with me, and found Du Sautoy’s book to offer pleasing insights into why we find these games so enjoyable.
Fiction
As is usually the case, I read more non-fiction than fiction during the year. On the few occasions that I did pick up a novel, it seems I have been drawn to those featuring rather flawed protagonists, to say the least. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis was, in retrospect, perhaps not the most relaxing choice of audiobook to accompany my January commutes on the congested roads of Leeds City Centre. The novel is infamous for its explicit and shocking depictions of ultra-violence, but I was more intrigued by its lengthy and monotonous monologues on 1980s bands, stereo systems, and skincare routines.
In the summer months (now commuting by train) I listened to the short but harrowing psychological novel We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. Told through a series of letters written by Eva Katchadourian to her estranged husband Franklin, the story explores Eva’s attempt to make sense of their teenage son Kevin’s horrifying act of violence – a school massacre he commits shortly before his 16th birthday. The novel is a chilling and fascinating exploration of parental responsibility, societal violence, and complexities of love and blame.
Finally, wrapping up a triptych of novels featuring notable and troubled anti-heroes, I read Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov later in the year. The unreliable narrator Humbert Humbert is charming and eloquent, seducing the reader with his wit and intellect, even as he recounts his abhorrent exploitation of a young girl. I did not realise before I began reading this book that it was originally written in English, despite Nabokov’s Russian heritage. The intricate wordplay, subtleties, and cultural references are beguiling, and I frequently felt compelled to highlight words or phrases on my Kindle for later recall. It was also a delight to recognise many turns of phrase and imagery from the lyrics of one of my favourite songs, Lolita Elle by ’90s band Jack. American imagery from Humbert and Lolita’s road trip across the United States also evoked my memories of our summer holiday driving in Utah and Nevada.
While visiting the States this summer, I spent the hot Nevadan evenings sitting in the shade in my mother-in-law’s courtyard reading London Fields by Martin Amis. I had previously tried reading Amis in my early twenties, encouraged to do so by my intellectual and more literary-minded housemate Hugh. But at the time I found Amis’s prose to be dense and challenging, and it said little to me about my life at the time (back then I preferred the lighter fin de siècle ennui of Douglas Coupland). But on returning to Amis’ “London Trilogy” in my forties, I find myself relishing these dark satires of modern life, the deeply flawed characters, and the way that the cities of London and New York symbolise both opportunity and corruption. Most of all I love the gloriously esoteric words and the lovingly-crafted sentences, many of which I again highlighted on my Kindle. Having re-read Money in 2018 and London Fields this year, I plan to revisit The Information in 2025.
People? People are chaotic quiddities living in one cave each. They pass the hours in amorous grudge and playback and thought-experiment. At the camp fire they put the usual fraction on exhibit, and listen to their own silent gibber about how they’re feeling and how they’re going down. We’ve been there.
Martin Amis, London Fields
Music
My favourite music book of the year was Deliver Me From Nowhere: The Making of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska by Warren Zanes. In contrast to the rock autobiographies by Bono, Jarvis Cocker, and Dave Grohl that have graced my year-end blog post in recent years and which contain a wide-range of anecdotes, Zanes’ book focuses on one specific recording. The Nebraska LP, recorded solo on a four-track cassette recorder in a New Jersey bedroom, was a stark departure from Springsteen’s earlier, more grandiose works. It showcased a raw, introspective side, and featured narratives of violence, despair, and existential contemplation. Zanes is a true fan and diligent researcher, who through interviews with Springsteen and others explores how Nebraska challenged industry norms and left a lasting impact on music, paving the way for future generations of lo-fi and indie rock artists to produce music in their bedrooms. For a broader read, I also enjoyed R.E.M. Album by Album by Max Pilley, a comprehensive retrospective of the thirty-year recording career of one of my favourite bands. This featured many facts and insights into the band and music that I wasn’t previously aware of, and led to me streaming their LPs with fresh ears, not unlike the impact that Revolution In The Head by Ian McDonald once had upon my appreciation of The Beatles’ recordings.
Life and How to Live It
Fluke: Chance, Chaos, and Why Everything We Do Matters by Dr. Brian Klaas explores the influence of randomness and chaos on human lives and decision-making. Klaas examines how small, seemingly insignificant events – flukes – can cascade into pivotal moments, shaping the course of history, politics, and personal trajectories.
The book examines topics like the butterfly effect, exploring how initial conditions can lead to wildly unpredictable outcomes, and the role of luck versus skill in success and failure. Klaas uses vivid anecdotes from history, science, and contemporary life to demonstrate how randomness interacts with human agency, often creating illusions of control where none exists.
Despite acknowledging the pervasive role of chance, this book ultimately offers a hopeful perspective: while randomness is unavoidable, our actions still matter. By understanding the mechanics of chaos and probability, we can better navigate uncertainty, make informed decisions, and cultivate resilience. There was a lot to take in here; much food for thought, and it’s one of the books from 2024 that I would definitely consider reading again in an attempt to digest the salient and actionable points.
One of the books mentioned in my 2021 post was Four Thousand Weeks: Time And How to Use It by Oliver Burkeman. He has returned with the follow-up Meditations for Mortals: Four Weeks to Embrace Your Limitations and Make Time for What Counts, and I’ve found it to be even more inspirational and actionable than the previous book. It is structured as a four-week “mental retreat” of daily meditations, centred around the topics of “Being Finite”, “Taking Action”, “Letting Go” and “Showing Up”. As someone who often struggles to decide what to do with my free time, and has been trying to find more efficient “algorithms to live by” for many years, I took great comfort from some of the poignant and reflective advice in the short chapters in this book, which is excellently researched and includes plenty of source citations to further reading. The “index of afflictions” at the back of the book is also a helpful resource.
I have thoroughly enjoyed all of Professor Cal Newport’s books, but his latest work, Slow Productivity: The Lost Art of Accomplishment without Burnout is my favourite to date, and is unsurprisingly focused, as you would expect from a book that exhorts us to do fewer things and obsess over quality. Newport highlights the unfortunate rise of performative busywork in modern corporate culture, and the negative impact that this has had on the creation of quality outputs. It goes on to suggest strategies and tactics that knowledge workers and others with a reasonable degree of autonomy in their jobs can use to live more fulfilling lives and produce higher-quality work. Alas, it does come with the caveat that many people who work in an office environment under close supervision might have a hard time fully instituting the strategies suggested: there will always be employers and clients who prioritise bureaucracy and infantilising processes over genuine productivity. But it offers the prospect of better ways of working to those who can do so, and I am hopeful that these ideas will spread across the corporate world as the benefits of their adoption are seen.
Do fewer things.
Cal Newport, Slow Productivity
Work at a natural pace.
Obsess over quality.
In 2024 I read more books than usual by reducing the amount of mainstream news media and social media that I consumed. I found this to be a more rewarding balance and it had a positive effect of my mental health. Yet even reading just one quality national newspaper per week left me with the impression that the world was going to hell in a hand cart, and by October I deliberately sought out a book to read that would offer some optimism. I found it in Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman, a thought-provoking exploration of human nature that challenges the assumption that humans are fundamentally selfish and driven by greed.
Bregman’s central thesis is that humans are, by nature, “Homo puppy” – inherently friendly, cooperative, and capable of incredible kindness. He invites readers to adopt a more optimistic lens on humanity, rejecting cynicism and building systems that empower our better angels. I particularly enjoyed the sections of the book where Bregman’s fresh research debunked iconic studies like the Stanford Prison Experiment and Milgram Experiment, revealing flaws in their methodology and reporting. The book is a mixture of rigorous research and engaging anecdotes that offers a call to action to reimagine our social structures and advocates for policies such as Universal Basic Income, which assume the best in people and trust individuals to act responsibly.
Our World
Similarly optimistic was the excellent Not the End of the World: How We Can Be the First Generation to Build a Sustainable Planet by Dr Hannah Ritchie. This data-driven exploration of the environmental challenges facing the planet was very reminiscent of Factfulness: Ten Reasons We’re Wrong About The World – And Why Things Are Better Than You Think by the late Swedish academic Hans Rosling. It challenges common misconceptions, scrutinising the actual impact of actions like eating locally and the true environmental costs of materials such as plastic. Ritchie emphasises that, contrary to pervasive doomsday narratives, we have the potential to achieve true sustainability for the first time in history.
If Ritchie’s work relies on accurate data to draw conclusions, what are the impacts on public policy when data is non-existent, inaccurate or misleading? That is the subject of Bad Data: How Governments, Politicians and the Rest of Us Get Misled by Numbers by Georgina Sturge, a statistician at the House of Commons Library. The book dives into the murky waters of official statistics, revealing how data – often assumed to be the bedrock of informed policy-making – is riddled with inconsistencies, guesswork, and uncertainties. It offers insightful analysis and engaging storytelling through a series of compelling narratives, which often served to provoke and anger me in a manner not dissimilar to that of Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men by Caroline Criado Perez, which featured in my blog post of 2019.
Another book on public policy that got me angry and worked up in 2024 was The Big Con: How the Consulting Industry Weakens our Businesses, Infantilises our Governments and Warps our Economies by Mariana Mazzucato and Rosie Collington. Through a series of case studies it critiques how large consulting firms have entrenched themselves as indispensable advisors while simultaneously undermining the very organisations they serve. Exhaustively highlighting the dependency culture, short-termism and lack of accountability that inevitably arises, the book calls for a reevaluation of the consulting industry’s role in modern organisations and governments. It advocates for rebuilding in-house expertise and fostering a culture of long-term value creation, rather than outsourcing core functions to external advisors.
My favourite science book of the year was Material World: A Substantial Story of Our Past and Future by Ed Conway, the economics editor for Sky News. He focuses on six fundamental materials – sand, salt, iron, copper, oil, and lithium – that have been instrumental in shaping human civilisation, and continue to be important for all our futures. The book highlights the many ways that these materials underpin modern life: sand is essential for silicon chips, iron and copper are foundational to construction and electrical infrastructure, and lithium is vital for contemporary battery technologies. The context of the transition to renewable energy sources and the demand that it will place on our consumption of these materials weighs heavily on the narrative.
We have come full circle. My books round-up blog post for 2024 ends on the same topic that it began – the impact of new technologies. If the technological changes that we have seen over the last 30 years have been remarkable, they are nothing compared to those that we are about to witness over the coming decades. The Coming Wave: Technology, Power and the Twenty-First Century’s Greatest Dilemma by DeepMind co-founder Mustafa Suleyman covers the transformative impact of emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence (AI), synthetic biology and quantum computing on society. It explores how those technological advancements could lead to immense prosperity while simultaneously posing enormous threats to global order and individual freedoms. Notably, Suleyman highlights the “containment problem”, arguing for proactive measures by nation states to strike a balance between innovation and potential catastrophe. At a time when the full potential of technologies such as ChatGPT and synthetic biology have not yet been grasped by the majority, The Coming Wave offers an urgent wake-up call. An important read.
Thank you for reading this far! Wishing you a peaceful Christmas, and here’s to much more reading in 2025.