The Thinking Machine, Stephen Witt, 2025

Rating: 3/5

I have been wanting to read a good book on Nvidia for a while and was debating between Stephen Witt’s “The Thinking Machine” and Tae Kim’s “The Nvidia Way”. In the former, Witt offers a narrative account of Jensen Huang and Nvidia that stands in quiet contrast to Tae Kim’s book which seems to be largely concerned with organisational culture, management discipline, and repeatable processes, Witt positions his work as a more personal exploration. That distinction is what led me to this book. I picked it up hoping to understand the man behind Nvidia better – not the mechanics of execution, but the human elements.

A good biography, particularly of a contemporary business figure, has a few essential ingredients in my view. It should ideally surface insights or anecdotes that are not already part of the public record, offering the reader something genuinely new. Alternatively, even familiar material can work if the underlying story is complex, conflicted, or inherently dramatic. Finally, the narrative shape matters. Lives, like companies, rarely progress in clean arcs, and a sense of uncertainty often makes the story more compelling.

Viewed through that lens, “The Thinking Machine” feels somewhat constrained. The book offers little in the way of new revelation; much of it reads as a polished narration of Nvidia’s well-known history. The story itself is also notably linear. Huang co-founds Nvidia, the company steadily grinds forward, places an early bet on parallel computing, then spends years in relative obscurity before AI finally provides the long-awaited payoff. While the outcome is undeniably impressive, the journey lacks sustained tension. Huang emerges as driven, but rarely conflicted, which leaves the narration feeling more observational than intimate.

That said, the book has some clear virtues. Witt writes with clarity, the pacing is brisk, and the book never feels bloated. For readers looking for a coherent, readable account of how Nvidia became central to the AI revolution, “The Thinking Machine” does its job well, even if it stops short of probing deeply.

Pros: Clear narrative, accessible writing

Cons: Limited insight

Starter Villain, John Scalzi, 2023

Rating: 5/5

Starter Villain is my first John Scalzi book and it turned out to be a gleefully unhinged outing. On the face of it, the story is about Charlie Fitzer, a divorced substitute teacher scraping by, who suddenly finds himself the unexpected heir to his estranged uncle’s empire. Only, this empire doesn’t involve businesses or stocks or real estate—it involves lairs, minions, and a seat at the table of the world’s supervillains. From there, the plot barrels forward, embracing every madcap possibility it can conjure, all the while keeping the reader hooked with a blend of dry wit and satire.

To call the book a madcap ride would almost undersell it. There’s a point where the protagonist sums up his predicament: “Instead I’m here on an island in the Caribbean, being told I need to talk to the dolphins in the middle of a labor action about some whales that might have torpedoes, armed by a secret society of villains who want access to a storeroom full of objects probably looted from the victims of the friggin’ Nazis and who are maybe willing to blow up my volcano lair to get it.” That single sentence works as a synopsis of the book’s spirit.

The novel also carries a sly undercurrent of satire. Beneath the jokes is a commentary on modern greed, corporate hierarchies, and the absurd lengths humans will go for power. Scalzi makes sure the barbs land even as you’re laughing. Yes, it’s lightweight in parts, but it feels intentional – Scalzi isn’t trying to write a grim epic, but a sparkling, escapist caper. If you are looking for a book that sets out to entertain above all else, this one does the job.

Pros: Madcap imagination, witty, sharp humour

Cons: Some readers may find this silly

The Miracles of the Namiya General Store, Keigo Higashino, 2012

Rating: 3/5

Keigo Higashino’s The Miracles of the Namiya General Store is one of those books that left me unsure of where exactly to slot it. Is it a self-help novel? Not quite, as much of the advice presented in the book is half-baked. Is it magical realism? Perhaps, though the magical element is understated. Is it simply a collection of interlinked short stories? That feels closer, but still not the full picture. The book weaves advice columns, time slips, and personal dilemmas into something that resists neat categorization. For some readers that slipperiness will feel refreshing, for others a little unsatisfying.

The premise is undeniably charming: people write letters to the long-closed Namiya General Store seeking advice, and three young delinquents hiding out there decide to answer them. What follows are a series of tales that link the past, present, and future in curious ways. The advice itself, however, often feels scattershot. Sometimes it seems sensible, at other times vague, and in a few cases it takes the “easy way out” by leaning on knowledge of the future, which raises questions about how meaningful or fair that guidance really is. What lingers most from the novel is its intricate web of connections across time. Characters from seemingly unrelated chapters end up linked — by chance, by fate, or by their shared history at a children’s home that recurs through the book. 

The trio at the heart of the frame story are sharply drawn. Atsuya, hot-headed and impulsive, wants quick solutions. Shota, in contrast, tends to pause and think things through. Kohei, the quietest of the three, often mediates between them. However, their character arcs do not get fully fleshed out and seem somewhat abrupt.

Higashino’s prose, at least in translation, is simple and elegant. The language flows easily, never bogging the reader down with unnecessary complexity. This makes the book accessible even when the structure is fragmented. Overall, I would give The Miracles of the Namiya General Store a 3 out of 5. It is touching in parts and often clever in how it connects disparate lives, but the unevenness of its advice and the overreliance on coincidence keep it from being truly remarkable.

Pros: An intriguing premise, simple and elegant

Cons: Uneven advice sections, heavy reliance on coincidence

Brief Answers to the Big Questions, Stephen Hawking's, 2018

Rating: 4/5

Published posthumously, this book brings together Stephen Hawking’s final thoughts on ten of the most profound questions we face. His daughter, Lucy Hawking, and the Stephen Hawking Estate were closely involved in shaping this collection, ensuring it reflects his voice and vision. This is Stephen Hawking’s final message to the world — a collection of ten essays tackling some of the most pressing and profound issues of our time. The chapters span a wide range of topics: from the existence of God and the future of artificial intelligence, to whether time travel is possible and how we might survive as a species. 

What makes the book compelling is Hawking’s ability to engage with such heavy questions without losing sight of his audience. He never talks down to the reader, yet he rarely lets the science become impenetrable. Two chapters especially stood out to me. Chapter 1, where he addresses the question “Is there a God?”, is striking for its clarity and honesty. While he’s respectful in tone and careful not to ruffle religious feathers unnecessarily, he is still frank and direct in stating his views. And Chapter 5, on black holes, is probably the most accessible and elegant explanation of the subject I’ve come across. Hawking distills decades of research into a few pages of crisp, often witty, insight.

That said, despite Hawking’s efforts to simplify concepts and keep a touch of humour throughout, the book does get a bit dry at times —  an understandable challenge given the complexity of the material. Some chapters are simply more engaging than others. Still, this book is a wonderful parting gift — a thoughtful, accessible summary of how Stephen Hawking saw the universe, our role in it, and the questions that should drive us forward. Highly recommended for anyone curious about science, philosophy, or the future of humanity.

Pros: Ambitious questions, clearly explained science, and Hawking’s trademark curiosity.

Cons: Occasional dry stretches and uneven pacing across chapters. 

The Hidden Girl and Other Stories, Ken Lay, 2020

Rating: 4/5

This is a collection of 19 short stories that span genres and centuries – from ancient China to distant, post-human futures. Like The Paper Menagerie, the first thing that strikes you about Ken Liu’s work is the audacity and range of his imagination. But compared to that earlier collection, this one leans more toward science fiction, with many stories exploring uploading, artificial intelligence, and digital consciousness. There are still glimmers of Chinese myth and fantasy, but the speculative here feels more tech-driven than a collection of myths.

Among the standout stories for me was The Reborn, a tightly woven tale of alien colonization, memory manipulation, and rebellion. Another highlight was The Hidden Girl, which blends Tang dynasty history with speculative action. On the more emotional side, Memories of My Mother and The Message were moving stories about the fraught dynamics between parents and children – especially when that relationship is strained.

Not all stories landed equally well for me. Like most short story collections, this one has its weaker links. Some stories feel too abstract, or conceptually interesting but emotionally flat. Thoughts and Prayers, while powerful, was deeply disturbing. The three-part series beginning with The Gods Will Not Be Chained and concluding with The Gods Have Not Died in Vain didn’t resonate with me as much as the others. Though rich in worldbuilding, I found these stories emotionally disengaging.

Overall, this book is worth a read for its highs and its continued testament to Liu’s unique ability to humanize the speculative. It’s always difficult to rank stories in a collection like this, where each piece might resonate differently with each reader. Still, if I had to pick a few that stood out: (1) The Reborn for its imaginative exploration of identity and colonialism, (2) The Hidden Girl for its unique blend of historical fantasy and moral growth, (3) Memories of My Mother for its elegant and affecting time-bending portrait of maternal love, and (4) The Message for its quiet and redemptive take on estrangement and reconciliation.

Pros: Inventive ideas, emotional depth in select stories, and a range of tones – from action to meditation.

Cons: Several stories, particularly in the uploading/digital consciousness arc, felt repetitive or slow.

Playground, Richard Powers, 2024

Rating: 4/5

The premise of Playground sounded like an eclectic mix: AI, memory, environmental ethics, and a remote island caught between progress and preservation. It felt like the kind of book that wouldn’t just tell a story but ask a few big, lingering questions along the way — and that’s exactly what it does for a large part. 

The novel brings together four very different characters: Evelyne Beaulieu, a young oceanographer haunted by a childhood brush with death; Ina Aroita, a Polynesian artist deeply connected to her island roots; Rafi Young, a literature-loving dropout seeking a quieter life; and Todd Keane, a tech mogul facing the slow onset of dementia. Their paths converge on Makatea, a once-exploited phosphate island now pitched as the site for a slick new AI-run seasteading project. The book alternates between a first-person narrative by Todd and a third-person one. It’s a lot to juggle, but Powers handles the shifting perspectives and timelines with care. The writing is beautiful and the sections on the ocean alone are worth the read.

I was aware of a twist at the end even before beginning the book although I didn’t know the details and eventually couldn’t guess most of it (there is some hint in the middle of the book though). Without spoiling it for readers, I found myself feeling ambivalent about the ending. On one hand, the twist genuinely took me by surprise. But on the other hand, it also felt almost too neat, too orchestrated and had a slightly gimmicky quality.

In the end, Playground is not flawless, but it's rich and original, and  I’m glad I read it. A solid 4/5 for a book that dares to do something different.

Pros: Relevant themes, gorgeous writing, layered characters with a unique structure

Cons: Somewhat gimmicky

Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, Jesse Sutanto, 2023

Rating: 3/5

I picked up Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers as a palate cleanser after some heavier, more intense reads. The quirky title and promise of a cozy mystery with a dash of humour caught my attention. I was intrigued by the premise: an elderly Chinese tea shop owner stumbling upon a dead body and taking it upon herself to solve the crime. It seemed refreshingly different from the books I’d recently read — a lighter, more playful take on the murder mystery genre. Plus, the idea of a sassy, meddling senior citizen acting as an amateur sleuth sounded like a fun twist.

One of the book’s biggest strengths is its charming protagonist. Vera Wong is a delightful character—nosy, opinionated, and utterly endearing. Her habit of dispensing unfiltered, maternal advice (and food and tea) to everyone she meets is both amusing and oddly heartwarming. The novel also shines in its depiction of found family. As Vera cozies up to the suspects — Riki, Oliver, Julia, and Sana — what begins as suspicion gradually transforms into friendship. The group’s growing bond adds warmth , making the story feel more like a character-driven drama than a whodunit. The book also offers gentle but thoughtful commentary on loneliness, immigrant experiences, and generational disconnect.

However, despite these positives, the book ultimately fell a bit flat for me, warranting a 3/5 rating. While the mystery element is what drew me in, it ended up feeling secondary to the relationships and tea-time bonding. The investigation itself is simplistic and lacks the tension or twists that make a mystery gripping. Vera’s sleuthing relies more on charm and intuition than genuine detective work, making the “solving” of the crime feel almost incidental. Additionally, the writing style, while breezy and accessible, often veers into being overly sweet and sentimental. The characters’ emotional arcs, though touching, felt predictable and saccharine, with conflicts tied up too neatly.

That said, Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers will likely appeal to many readers, especially those looking for a cozy, heartwarming read with a sprinkle of mystery. Fans of character-driven stories, particularly ones featuring quirky older protagonists, will enjoy Vera’s antics and her lovable meddling. The book’s themes of loneliness, redemption, and human connection give it a relatable emotional core. While I found the book a bit too sugary and simplistic for my taste, still, it offers a pleasant escape — like a cup of sweet, milky tea on a rainy afternoon: comforting, but not particularly memorable.

Pros: Charming protagonist, heartwarming, and gentle commentary on loneliness and connection

Cons: Simplistic mystery, predictable emotional arcs, and overly saccharine tone

Revenge of the Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell, 2024

Rating: 4/5

In “Revenge of the Tipping Point”, Malcolm Gladwell revisits the concept of social contagion he first explored in The Tipping Point (2000), but this time he does a “forensic investigation” of social epidemics, in his own words. He expands his framework from the first book by introducing concepts such as overstories — dominant cultural narratives that subtly shape public perception, super-spreaders — influential individuals or platforms that amplify ideas far beyond their natural reach, group proportions — the delicate balance of minority and majority groups that can tip social norms, and small area variations — where subtle geographical or demographic differences create unexpected behavioural shifts. 

Like many books in this genre, “Revenge of the Tipping Point” occasionally falls into the trap of stretching its premise to fill pages. Authors tackling broad sociological concepts often force-fit disparate anecdotes into a central unifying theme, and Gladwell is no exception. He frames the book around the political hearing of Purdue Pharma officials over their role in the opioid crisis, using it as a narrative anchor. Yet, his attempts to map this complex, large-scale tragedy onto his concepts of small area variation, overstories, and super-spreaders sometimes feel tenuous. While the connections are thought-provoking, they occasionally appear more speculative than substantive, as if the framework is being retrofitted to the story rather than naturally emerging from it.

Nevertheless, Revenge of the Tipping Point remains an interesting and engaging read, largely due to Gladwell’s knack for storytelling. The book is peppered with fascinating anecdotes, such as the revelation that US Ivy League colleges deliberately made their admissions process more subjective in the early 20th century to curb the disproportionate success of Jewish applicants, who were excelling in the earlier, more quantifiable system. At just around 250 pages, the book is a relatively brisk read, making it easy to breeze through despite its occasionally stretched arguments. While Gladwell’s conceptual framework may feel loosely applied at times, his ability to unearth compelling stories ensures that the book still delivers what readers expect from him: a collection of memorable vignettes wrapped in big, if sometimes wobbly, ideas.

Pros: Engaging anecdotes, short and accessible

Cons: Forced analogies

Sea of Tranquility, Emily St. John Mandel, 2022

Rating: 5/5

What struck me the most after finishing Sea of Tranquility was how much it covered in just 200 pages — spanning centuries, multiple storylines, and several themes — without ever feeling rushed or overly complex. Despite its brevity, the novel takes its time with each of its main characters, immersing the reader in their lives making their journeys feel intimate.

It is difficult to write about the book’s premise without spoiling it for readers. Suffice to say, Sea of Tranquility is a beautifully written novel that blends science fiction with human themes. The book follows multiple characters across different timelines. In 1912, Edwin St. Andrew, a young English aristocrat, is banished to Canada and stumbles upon a mysterious anomaly in the forest. In the 2200s, Olive Llewellyn, a bestselling author from a lunar colony, embarks on an Earth book tour, unaware of the eerie parallels between her novel and reality. In 2401, Gaspery-Jacques Roberts, a detective from the Night City on the Moon, is assigned to investigate a strange pattern in time that links these characters. Mandel moves fluidly between the various narratives, keeping the story brisk yet immersive, allowing readers to absorb its multiple layers without feeling overwhelmed. The novel ends satisfyingly, tying the threads of its intricate plot together — a feat that is often difficult in stories of this genre.

The book’s structure reminded me somewhat of Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, another book that I love. Like that book, Sea of Tranquility weaves together multiple timelines and perspectives, exploring the interconnectedness of human lives across centuries. However, Cloud Atlas leans more heavily on stylistic shifts between its narratives, whereas Sea of Tranquility maintains a more uniform tone. Readers who appreciate the philosophical underpinnings of Cloud Atlas but prefer a more straightforward, emotionally resonant narrative with a dash of science fiction will likely find Sea of Tranquility particularly compelling.

Pros: Elegant writing, interesting themes, easily devoured in one sitting

Cons: Light on the sci-fi mechanics

Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew, Shehan Karunatilaka, 2010

Rating: 4/5

I thoroughly enjoyed Karunatilaka's latest novel, The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, for its zaniness and its sharp, humorous critique of Sri Lanka's political landscape in the 1980s. Given my enjoyment of his more recent work, my expectations for Chinaman, Karunatilaka's debut, were naturally high — a mix of mystery, humour, and cricket (which I follow avidly) promised a compelling read. And for the most part, the book delivers.

Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew is narrated by W.G. Karunasena, a washed-up journalist, as he embarks on a quest to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of Pradeep Mathew, an enigmatic Sri Lankan cricketer with unmatched talent. The novel weaves together cricket, mystery, and social critique, as Karunasena explores the underbelly of match-fixing and political corruption within Sri Lankan cricket. Incidentally, a chinaman is a slower delivery bowled by a left-handed bowler to deceive the batter. 

Karunatilaka’s signature humor is on full display in Chinaman, offering a sharp and farcical commentary on Sri Lankan society and the political forces shaping its cricketing world. Through Karunasena's sarcastic observations, the novel skewers the absurdities of fame, the game's politics, and widespread corruption. While the humour is biting, the book does occasionally overstay its welcome. Some sections feel repetitive, and the plot's momentum falters at times, slowing down the story's overall pace.

The novel is laden with cricket references, which may overwhelm readers unfamiliar with the sport. Although cricket plays a central role in the narrative, those with little interest or knowledge of the game may find the terminology and depth of detail challenging. However, for cricket fans or those willing to immerse themselves in the lingo, Chinaman is an engaging and witty read, well worth the effort.

Pros: Witty, novel story

Cons: Drags occasionally, requires knowledge of cricket

What I Learned about Investing from Darwin, Pulak Prasad, 2023

Rating: 3/5

As the title suggests, this books has two themes. One, a discussion of Charles Darwin’s evolutionary theories and two, the translation of those theories to good investment tips. These are two areas that Prasad has expertise in. Accordingly, he prefaces each chapter with a quote from Darwins’s Origin of Species and and one from Warren Buffett’s many letters to his shareholders.

Let’s start with the first theme. Prasad is a seasoned investor in Indian equities with an impressive track record. His firm, Nalanda, achieved a 20% annualized return on its first fund over 15 years, compared to 11% for the benchmark index. This means $1 invested in the fund grew to $14, versus just $4 in the index—a remarkable feat. However, I found some of his views debatable. For instance, Prasad argues that businesses in conglomerates don’t make good investments, yet examples like TCS and Trent from the Tata group tell a different story — they are up 10 times and 21 times in the same period and Trent is up a further 5 times since then. There is also some inconsistency in his approach; while he avoids buying stocks at high valuations based solely on future prospects, he justifies holding existing ones with the same rationale. His strategy is also largely Buffett-inspired so there may be nothing new for readers familiar with Buffett’s style. Despite these critiques, his proven success make his insights worth exploring.

The book’s second theme, evolutionary theory, is less compelling. Although the blurb claims it influenced Prasad’s investment style, the connections often feel forced—such as the stretched analogy between sea urchins, McKinsey, and robust businesses. Prasad is clearly well-versed on the subject and it almost feels that he has simply used it as a “hook” to distinguish this book from many other similar books on investing. That said, some examples, like honeybees’ nesting sites in the final chapter, are intriguing.

At 275 pages, the book is concise, and Prasad’s writing is accessible. However, his frequent repetition of favoorite themes — such as buying great businesses, never selling them, and focusing on Return on Capital Employed — can feel redundant. Despite these flaws, the book offers valuable insights for young investors. Learning from a successful investor like Prasad is always a worthwhile experience.

Pros: An insight into Prasad’s excellent investment record

Cons: Largely “Buffett-isms”, stretched comparisons between evolution and investing