Books

Recommended Books: Ethics, Kindness, and Being a Good Person

— Gertrude Carroll, still wondering

The dawn light spills across my kitchen table, just as it has for fifty years since I left the convent. My teacup is cool now, but the steam of morning thought still rises. I wonder sometimes if we’ve been looking for ethics in the wrong places—always seeking grand gestures, profound pronouncements, when the sacred lives in the quiet space between I’m sorry and It’s okay. Today, I’d like to share the books that have gently guided me through the ordinary, messy, beautiful work of being good. Not the kind of goodness that shouts from a pulpit, but the kind that hums in the rhythm of daily life.

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The Everyday Practice of Ethics

We often imagine morality as a mountain to climb, but what if it’s more like tending a garden? Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg isn’t just a book—it’s a lifeline I’ve clung to when my neighbor Mrs. Gable’s roses invaded my plot. I’d fume, “She’s being so selfish!” until I remembered: “What I need is respect for my space.” So I knocked, not to accuse, but to say, “I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed by the roses near my fence. Could we talk about how to share the space?” Her eyes softened. We planted a low hedge together. There’s a kind of grace in that—not in fixing the problem, but in naming the need without blame.

Practical step: Next time you feel irritation rising, pause. Ask: “What do I need right now?” Not “What’s wrong with them?” Then say it simply. “I need to feel heard.”

The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama taught me this too. When my husband, Thomas, grew frail, I’d rush to fix his pain. But he’d whisper, “Just sit with me, Gertrude.” The Dalai Lama writes: “Happiness is not something ready-made. It comes from your own actions.” So I stopped trying to make him happy. I simply sat, holding his hand while the rain tapped the window. The kindness wasn’t in the action—it was in the presence.

Common mistake to avoid: Confusing kindness with people-pleasing. True kindness doesn’t erase your own boundaries. It says, “I care for you, and I care for myself too.”

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When Kindness Fails: The Courage to Be Imperfect

I’ve read Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl many times, but it wasn’t until I sat with my son during his divorce that I truly understood it. He’d say, “I’m such a failure,” and I’d reply, “No, you’re not!”—trying to fix it. But Frankl reminds us: “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” I stopped trying to fix his pain and simply said, “This is hard. I’m here.” That’s when he wept.

Nuance to consider: Kindness isn’t always about words. Sometimes it’s silence. When my friend Agnes lost her husband, I brought soup but didn’t speak for an hour. She later said, “You just let me be broken.” That’s the quiet courage Frankl speaks of—not pretending everything’s fine, but honoring the rawness.

How to Be Good by Nick Hornby is a lifesaver for this. He writes: “Being good isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being human.” I once snapped at a cashier for a slow checkout. Later, I saw her wiping tears—her son was sick. Hornby would say: “Forgive yourself for being human. Then try again.”

Practical step: When you stumble (and you will), say: “I was wrong. I’ll try to do better.” No grand apologies. Just the truth.

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The Quiet Revolution: Kindness in the Unseen Places

The Road to Character by David Brooks reshaped my understanding of virtue. I’d always thought of “goodness” as public—like volunteering or giving to charity. But Brooks writes: “The deepest character is built in the quiet moments, when no one is watching.”

I learned this when I stopped rushing to help my neighbor, Mr. Chen, carry groceries. Instead, I’d say, “Would you like me to help?” once. If he said no, I’d let it be. One day, he asked, “Why don’t you just do it?” I told him about Brooks: “Because I want to honor your choice.” He smiled. “That’s the first time anyone asked.”

Deeper example: Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer taught me this too. She writes: “We are not the owners of the earth. We are the earth’s children.” Last spring, I noticed a patch of dandelions pushing through the sidewalk. Instead of pulling them, I knelt and whispered, “Thank you for your bright courage.” My hands were dirty, but for the first time in years, I felt connected—not to a grand idea, but to the earth itself.

Related consideration: Kindness isn’t just for people. It’s for the soil, the birds, the quiet moments. When I water my garden, I say, “Thank you for growing.” It’s not a ritual—it’s a reminder.

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The Pitfalls of Modern Morality

We live in a world that confuses being good with being liked. The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt explains why: “Morality binds and blinds.” We’ll defend our tribe fiercely but ignore the suffering of strangers. I see this in the way people argue online—“You’re wrong!” instead of “Help me understand.”

Common mistake to avoid: Mistaking moral certainty for moral depth. Brooks warns: “The world is full of people who are right and wrong. We need to be both.”

The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu helped me navigate this. When a friend criticized my choices after Thomas died, I felt hurt. But Tutu writes: “Joy is not the absence of suffering. It’s the presence of meaning.” So I asked: “What are you afraid of?” instead of “You’re wrong.” She cried. “I’m afraid you’ll be alone.” And I realized: Her fear was love.

Practical step: Before reacting, ask: “What might they be afraid of?” It changes everything.

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The Books That Stayed With Me

These aren’t just books—they’re companions. Here’s how they’ve shaped my days:

The Righteous Mind – “I wonder sometimes if our moral judgments are like taste buds—some things just feel right, even if we can’t explain why.” I’ve stopped arguing with my son about politics. Instead, I say, “I see your heart in this. Help me see it too.”* How to Be Good – “What if ‘being good’ means showing up, even when you’re tired?” I’ve started saying “I’m tired, but I’ll try” instead of “I’m too busy.”* The Road to Character – “There’s a kind of grace in that moment when you admit you’re not perfect.” I’ve stopped hiding my grief. I say, “I’m sad today. Can we sit quietly?”* Nonviolent Communication – “I need to feel safe to be myself.”* I’ve learned to say this to my cat, too. The Art of Happiness – “Joy is a choice we make in the ordinary.”* I find it in the steam rising from my teacup. Man’s Search for Meaning – “Suffering is inevitable. Meaning is optional.”* I choose meaning in the small things: the way light hits the window at 5 a.m. Braiding Sweetgrass – “We are not separate from the earth. We are its expression.”* I’ve started leaving wildflowers on my windowsill for the birds. The Book of Joy – “Joy is a practice, not a feeling.”* I practice it by singing off-key in the kitchen.

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A Final Thought for the Dawn

I’ve spent eighty-one years learning that ethics isn’t about being good. It’s about becoming good—slowly, imperfectly, one quiet moment at a time. It’s in the way I choose to speak to the cashier, the way I let the dandelions grow, the way I sit with my grief without rushing to fix it.

What if we stopped measuring our goodness by how often we’re praised, and started measuring it by how often we see others? What if kindness meant not just doing for people, but being with them in their brokenness?

The books on this list don’t give answers. They ask questions. And that’s where the sacred lives.

— Gertrude Carroll, still wondering