These 15 Non-Fiction Books Can Teach You How to Write Better

How I became a better writer?

Mostly because I stopped reading.

Yes, really.

Instead, I started to study other writers.

How does their writing keep me captivated?

How do they make dry stuff interesting? How do they let their passion shine through their words? Why do I feel like I’m getting to know them?

I’ve learned so much from studying other writers.

And you?

Whose writing have you enjoyed and learned from?

Below I’ve listed 15 fab non-fiction books—each of these books taught me something about writing …

(Note that the links below go to more in-depth reviews of each book.)

1. “Fathoms: The World in the Whale” by Rebecca Giggs

The opening of this book is probably one of the best non-fiction openings.

Giggs grabs me straight from the start:

A few years ago, I helped push a beached humpback whale back out into the sea, only to witness it return and expire under its own weight on the shoreline.

That sentence makes me want to learn more. Why did the humpback whale return? How did it expire under its own weight?!!???

The second sentence is even more intriguing:

For the three days that it died, the whale was a public attraction.

So much drama in that one sentence. How could it take 3 whole days to die? And how could that become a public attraction?

You may think your task as a writer is to explain, to educate, to inspire, or to sell. But if you don’t captivate your readers first, you won’t get an opportunity to share your ideas or to communicate your sales pitch.

So, look for the drama or intrigue, and start right there.

2. “Extraordinary Insects” by Anne Sverdrup-Thygeson

Who wants to read about insects?

I wasn’t sure it was my thing.

But Sverdrup-Thygeson has an amazing ability to make a boring topic fun, and I couldn’t put her book down:

In many ways, insects communicate through smell. Scent molecules allow them to send each other various kinds of messages, from personal ads such as ‘Lonesome lady seeks handsome fella for good times’ to ant restaurant recommendations: ‘Follow this scent trail to a delicious dollop of jam on the kitchen counter.’

Isn’t that paragraph fun?

It’s the examples that make this text come alive.

So, next time you write something general or abstract, try to add an example or two to help readers imagine your advice. You might even put a smile on their face.

3. “Finding the Mother Tree” by Suzanne Simard

Historian David Hackett Fischer calls questions the engines of intellect.

But questions are more than that.

Questions offer an opportunity to share your curiosity and take your readers by the hand as you discover answers.

For instance, at the start of her career, Simard works in forestry. After a forest has been cleared for the wood industry, she finds the seedlings are struggling, and wonders:

Why did they look so awful? Why, in contrast, did the wild firs germinating in that old-growth patch look so brilliant?

The questions form the basis for Simard’s research as she discovers the “wood wide web.”

Which questions do you explore in your writing?

4. “Daring Greatly” by Brené Brown

Brené Brown has spent two decades studying courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy.

She’s a research professor at the University of Houston. She has a PhD. Her books are bestsellers. She’s delivered not one but two viral TED talks—the most popular one has been viewed 21 million times. (Wow!)

You’d think she knows how to live and love, right?

Yet, here’s what she writes about discovering the importance of self-love in the research data:

Personally, I fought the data with everything I have. Over and over, I heard the idea of self-love as a prerequisite to loving others, and I hated it. Sometimes it’s so much easier to love Steve and the kids than it is to love myself.

I used to think that sharing our flaws, weaknesses, and struggles would damage our professional image, but the opposite might be true.

We get to know Brené Brown and appreciate her work because she shares her own struggles to live more wholeheartedly.

5. “Gathering Mosses” by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Years of studying mosses have sharpened Kimmerer’s observation skills.

So, when she looks at mosses she notices more than you and me:

Fissidens is a small moss. Each shoot is only 8 millimeters high, but it is tough and wiry. Fissidens’ form is very distinctive. The whole plant is flat, like an upright feather. Each leaf has a smooth thin blade, atop which sits a second flap of leaf, like a flat pocket on a shirtfront.

And she teaches how to observe:

You can look at mosses the way you can listen deeply to water running over rocks. The soothing sound of a stream has many voices, the soothing green of mosses likewise.

Since reading this book, I look more closely at mosses and lichen. I notice them in the unlikeliest places: in the crack of a tile or brick, on the worn-out asphalt, and on the black letters of a street sign.

6. “Revelations in Air” by Jude Stewart

Jude Stewart also shows us how to pay attention. Here’s how she describes the aroma of peanut butter:

It’s rich, smoky, surprisingly deep. The scent stacks in clear layers: at the top floats a note of honeyed sweetness. A heavy swirl of oil forms the grounding base note. In the fat middle, it’s all sticky, particulate peanuts: a smell that matches the taste with uncanny fidelity.

To describe a smell more accurately, you first have to sniff more attentively. You have to stop and pay attention. That’s how you can detect the different layers of a smell—honeyed sweetness, oily base, and sticky peanuts.

And you know what?

When you stop and pay attention, you can make any writing better.

7. “An Immense World” by Ed Yong

The non-fiction books I enjoy most have two things in common.

First, they teach well and make me curious to learn more. Secondly, they harness the power of storytelling. Miniature stories are woven into the text, gripping me as if I’m reading fiction.

Yong’s book is full of miniature stories. Here’s how he illustrates the abstract idea that color perception differs between humans and animals:

It’s a sunny afternoon in March 2021, and I’m taking Typo, my corgi, for a walk. As we approach a neighbor who is rinsing his car with a hose, Typo stops, sits, and stares. As I wait with him, I notice a rainbow in the water arcing from the hose. To Typo’s eyes, it goes from yellow to white to blue. To mine, it goes from red to violet, with orange, yellow, green, and blue in the middle. To the sparrows and starlings perched in a tree behind us, it goes from red to ultraviolet, with perhaps even more gradations in between.

Did you imagine yourself walking with Ed and his dog Typo, too? Did you picture the different colored rainbows?

This is how stories invite, entertain, and educate.

8. “How the Word is Passed” by Clint Smith

Amazon’s description suggests this book describes a tour of monuments and landmarks related to slavery.

But this book is so much more than that.

It’s a rich tapestry of human stories. The stories bring historical facts to life, so we gain a deeper, more emotional understanding.

Smith describes the people he meets, like one of the guides at the Monticello plantation:

David’s peach face, reddened from all the hours spent standing in the sun, was clean-shaven and sunk gently into itself around his cheeks. Ridges and wrinkles made their way down his jawbone and onto his neck. He wore large, thick-rimmed glasses and a brown wide-brimmed hat that cast a slight shadow over his eyes. He spoke with a calm evenhandedness that invited people into discussion, like a professor.

Do you feel like you’re there with Smith, listening to David, too?

9. “Time Surfing” by Paul Loomans

Loomans is a master of metaphor. For instance, he describes tasks we dislike as gnawing rats and recommends turning them into sheep by befriending them:

A gnawing rat is troublesome and keeps you awake at night. A white sheep is a very different animal. It’s part of a flock, and the flock follows meekly behind the shepherd. The sheep symbolize the tasks that you plan to do in the future. When you become friends with them, they’ll follow you loyally and won’t get in your way.

Loomans’ metaphors not only help explain abstract ideas, but they also add emotion, color, and personality.

I love the idea of time surfing and befriending those gnawing rats. (It really works!)

10. “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” by John Koenig

This unusual book is probably my favorite on this list. (It’s hard to choose only one!)

Koenig makes up words for unusual feelings which he then describes with precision, care, and creativity. For example, he describes “nighthawk” as follows:

a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming future—which you sometimes manage to forget for weeks, only to feel it land on your shoulder once again, quietly building a nest.

Koenig uses creativity and vivid imagery—like building a nest on your shoulder—not to impress but to engage and communicate clearly. It’s a book to enjoy slowly.

11. “Levels of the Game” by John McPhee

I’m a big fan of concise writing.

But …

Writing that’s too concise can become soulless, lacking the power to engage and inspire.

John McPhee shows us how precise writing enchants. Here’s how he starts his book:

Arthur Ashe, his feet apart, his knees slightly bent, lifts a tennis ball into the air. The toss is high and forward. If the ball were allowed to drop, it would, in Ashe’s words, “make a parabola and drop to the grass three feet in front of the baseline.” He has practiced tossing a tennis ball just so thousands of times. But he is going to hit this one.

His feet draw together. His body straightens and tilts forward far beyond the point of balance. He is falling. The force of gravity and a muscular momentum from legs to arm compound as he whips his racquet up and over the ball.

He weighs a hundred and fifty-five pounds; he is six feet tall, and right-handed. His build is barely full enough not to be describable as frail, but his coordination is so extraordinary that the ball comes off his racquet at furious speed. With a step forward that stops his fall, he moves to follow.

To be brief, McPhee could have written:

Arthur Ashe started the match on serve.

That’s only 7 words—the actual first paragraph, as above, contains 165 words. But note how that original version allows you to picture how Ashe stands, how he tosses the ball up, and how he serves at a furious speed.

When you read McPhee’s description you feel like you’re on court, watching the match unfold.

12. “What It’s Like to Be a Bird” by David Allen Sibley

This is a delightful book that explains in simple language what it’s like to be a bird.

Here’s an example:

Birds’ bodies are well insulated, but they have no insulation on their legs and feet, which are often exposed to extreme cold. Birds’ feet can handle being cold, and they don’t need much blood flow because they have very little muscle tissue (…). The bigger problem is that any blood that does go to the feet comes back into the body cold—but birds’ systems have a solution for that.

A process called countercurrent circulation is used to transfer heat and warm up the blood coming back into the body. The major veins and arteries in the legs split into multiple smaller blood vessels at the top of each leg, intertwining to allow more heat to transfer from the warm outgoing blood to the cold incoming blood.

This system is so efficient that as much as 85 percent of the outgoing blood’s heat is transferred to the incoming blood.

I love how delightfully simple Sibley’s writing is.

I feels like he respects his readers. His tone is never condescending but he works hard to explain simply and clearly. Something to strive for in our writing.

13. “How to Be an Antiracist” by Ibram X. Kendi

Most of us like to see ourselves as kind people who treat everyone equally, so examining our own racist views is uncomfortable.

By showing his own vulnerability, Kendi reassures us and shows us color-blindness doesn’t exist:

I thought I was a subpar student and was bombarded by messages—from Black people, White people, the media—that told me that the reason was rooted in my race … which made me more discouraged and less motivated as a student … which only further reinforced for me the racist idea that Black people just weren’t very studious … which made me feel even more despair or indifference … and on it went.

I’m impressed by Kendi’s frank self-reflections. Sharing his own lessons makes it easier for me, as reader, to be open-minded and reflect on my own views and behavior, too.

14. “Hidden Potential” by Adam Grant

From all books on this list, this one probably showcases how to use creative writing techniques best. It’s a good text to study if you want to write better.

For instance, in his chapter on perfectionism, Grant tells the story of award-winning architect Ando to explain that excellence doesn’t equal flawlessness:

When Ando designed his second house, the entire lot was less than 200 square feet. The constraints of the space meant that even if he sought perfection, it would be unattainable.

He had to settle for a design with some fundamental flaws. He built a tiny concrete box without any windows—there was only a skylight at the top.

He uses metaphors:

If perfectionism were a medication, the label would alert us to common side effects. Warning: may cause stunted growth.

And soundbites:

The more you grow, the better you know which flaws are acceptable.

This is probably the best all-round showcase of how to write non-fiction.

15. “10% Happier” by Dan Harris

In 2005, Harris has a panic attack on TV, watched by over 5 million viewers. Afterwards, he goes on a reluctant journey to find peace in his mind.

The book 10% Happier summarizes this journey, and it’s a passionate pitch to practice meditation and become more mindful:

Until recently, I thought of meditation as the exclusive province of bearded swamis, unwashed hippies, and fans of John Tesh music. Moreover, since I have the attention span of a six-month-old yellow Lab, I figured it was something I could never do anyway. I assumed, given the constant looping, buzzing, and fizzing of my thoughts, that “clearing my mind” wasn’t an option.

Harris writes for an audience who’s like his younger self. That’s why he understands his audience’s skepticism so well.

It’s a useful reminder that good writing starts with understanding who we’re writing for, how we can help them, and why they may be reluctant to listen.

How to read as a writer

Books are my favorite teachers.

Books are patient; they allow me to read at a pace that suits me, and I can re-read paragraphs as often as I like.

Books also don’t get upset when I want to skip a couple of chapters. Or when I put a book down to read something else first. Or when after reading a few pages, I decide this book isn’t for me.

I’m a big fan of reading what you enjoy and discarding what doesn’t enchant you.

So, don’t treat this list as a must read.

Follow your intuition and read what you enjoy.

That’s the best way to learn and become a better writer.

Happy reading!