“A typical neuron makes about ten thousand connections to neighboring neurons. Given the billions of neurons, this means there are as many connections in a single cubic centimeter of brain tissue as there are stars in the Milky Way galaxy.” David Eagleman

This short, accessible, and frequently amusing book opens with “The Half Lesson: Your Brain Is Not for Thinking.” It’s not? Already my mind boggled. Then what’s it for? Wipe your mind of whatever you were thinking (ha) and prepare for a shock.

On average I read eight to ten books a month, fiction and non-fiction, for a couple hours at the end of my day in bed. Since July, after landing the book deal with W.W. Norton, I’ve also been reading one book—The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World by Ian McGilchrist, MD, a British psychiatrist and philosopher—for a couple hours most mornings at the desk after a few cups of coffee.

How many pages do I read in two hours? About ten. The material is so dense, I have to take notes to stay focused. (More on that in a few paragraphs.) I haven’t worked this hard since medical school!

This is one of the best books I’ve read, ever. It’s simply beautiful, a work of art that transcends its genre. The author’s journey exemplifies cartoonist and MacArthur Genius Grant recipient Lynda Barry’s contention that “We don’t create a fantasy world to escape reality. We create it to be able to stay.”

How does the author keep going when she loses everything that makes her life meaningful and worth living?

This surprisingly moving narrative set in Victorian England braids together three histories. First, the making of the great Oxford English Dictionary (OED), which took seventy years to complete. Second, the life of the professor, Dr. James Murray, the OED’s third and justly most famous editor, who worked on it for the last forty years of his life. And third, the life of the madman, Dr. William Chester Minor, major contributor to the OED, an American, Yale educated physician, whose illustrious career as a Union officer and surgeon during the Civil War ended due to mental illness that rendered him “unfit for duty” and led to tragedy.

Intriguing title! I thought. What does the back cover say? My reader taste buds tingling, I plucked the book off the shelf of the wall book display. (Is there anything better than browsing a curated indie bookstore?) I flipped it over.

“ A tale so mind-blowing as to be the stuff of legend.” –The Denver Post

Isolated by Mexico’s deadly Copper Canyons, the blissful Tarahumara Indians have honed the ability to run hundreds of miles without rest or injury.

What?! As a physician and failed jogger (all pain, no gain), these words stopped me short. Deadly? Blissful? Ability to run hundreds of miles? Without rest or injury?

In a riveting narrative, award-winning journalist and often-injured runner Christopher McDougall sets out to discover their secrets.

I bought the book.

I couldn’t put this book down. The writing is gorgeous: lyrical, immersive, richly textured and slyly skeptical of the historical record. Did you know Cleopatra spoke nine languages and was a master of finance and political strategy? At the height of her power, she controlled the entire eastern Mediterranean coast, while keeping those enslaving, conquest-obsessed, sexist Romans at bay.

The opening “Half Lesson” is titled: Your Brain Is Not for Thinking. It’s not? No. Your brain’s most important job is predicting your body’s energy needs before they arise so you can efficiently make worthwhile movements and survive to pass your genes to the next generation.

This short, accessible, frequently amusing and deeply subversive book exploded pretty much everything I’ve understood about the brain and how it works. That’s quite a statement given I’m a psychiatrist—my medical specialty is the brain.

For example, memories are not filed like paperwork—that’s a metaphor. They are actually recreated on demand. What! Yes.

I was doing great letting go—releasing books into boxes then sending them on their way to loving new homes—despite a strong urge to cling. Hoarding is selfish. Books need to circulate and be read. But after folding closed the 36th box (at 45 books a box, about 1600 books), I hit the wall.