David Liu
Shoe Dog is raw, scrappy, and chaotic—in the best way. Phil Knight’s memoir doesn’t polish Nike’s origin story into some tidy business case study; instead, it’s a grind-it-out narrative full of doubt, risk, and sheer willpower. For someone who values resilience and isn’t afraid to admit the mess behind a breakthrough, this book is fuel. Knight’s journey isn’t about overnight success—it’s about betting on a vision when the numbers don’t yet add up, trusting the process, and out-hustling the clock. It’s as much about identity and obsession as it is about shoes, and it reminds me that sometimes, momentum matters more than perfect planning.
Good Morning, Monster is one of those books that quietly wrecks you and rebuilds you in the span of a few chapters. Catherine Gildiner profiles five patients with such raw, layered trauma that you almost forget you’re reading nonfiction—it feels like sitting in on therapy sessions that somehow reflect pieces of your own emotional architecture. It’s not sensationalized or overly clinical; it’s deeply human. The strength these people show isn’t loud or cinematic—it’s survival in slow motion. For someone like me who values resilience, self-awareness, and the long game, this book hits like a reminder that healing isn’t linear, and strength often looks like just showing up again and again. It’s heavy but worthwhile—quietly powerful in the way a good finance model is: simple, deep, and built to endure.
The Psychology of Money hits different if you’re someone who’s not just chasing numbers, but building a system that lasts. Morgan Housel breaks down how wealth is less about spreadsheets and more about behavior—patience, humility, and staying in the game. It’s not flashy, but it’s quietly profound. The book doesn’t overload you with jargon or "10x hacks"; instead, it feels like a conversation you’d have with a smart, grounded friend over a glass of decent red wine—calmly calling out how ego, fear, and comparison mess with financial decisions. It reinforces what I already believe: real financial power isn’t about predicting markets—it’s about self-awareness, consistency, and letting compounding quietly do its thing.
Peter Zeihan’s The End of the World Is Just the Beginning reads like a world tour through a crystal ball that’s slightly cracked but deeply compelling. Zeihan argues that globalization is on its way out and a more fractured, localized future awaits, packed with consequences for everything from manufacturing to food supply. His tone swings between TED Talk charisma and geopolitical doomsday prepping, and while some of his predictions feel a bit like economic sci-fi, they're rooted in a fascinating blend of data and gut instinct. The book’s strength lies in its sweeping, unapologetically opinionated take on where we’re headed, even if it occasionally leans hard on confident speculation. Whether you nod along or raise an eyebrow, it’s a thought-stirring ride through the possible unraveling of the global order.
The Untethered Soul is a mindset shift disguised as a spiritual manual. It’s less about chasing achievement and more about watching your thoughts without letting them run the show. For someone like me—wired to build systems, solve problems, and keep momentum—this book feels like an intentional pause. Michael Singer doesn’t sell you some grand secret; he just gently reminds you that the voice in your head isn’t you, and that freedom starts the moment you stop identifying with it. It’s not productivity advice, but it’s the foundation beneath all sustainable growth—inner calm that doesn’t rely on outcomes. Think of it as mental decluttering for someone who likes clean dashboards.
The Martian is basically the survivalist fantasy for anyone who thrives on problem-solving under pressure—with a sarcastic edge. Mark Watney isn’t just stranded on Mars; he’s in a nonstop battle of wits against physics, limited resources, and a planet that literally wants him dead. But the magic is in how he makes it feel like a grimly hilarious science project. For someone like me who loves systems, optimization, and a touch of dark humor, this book is peak efficiency porn. It’s not just about surviving—it’s about iterating, adapting, and doing the math until you win. It’s “FP&A in space,” with potatoes.
Project Hail Mary is like The Martian leveled up—with higher stakes, weirder science, and somehow even more heart. Ryland Grace wakes up alone in a spaceship with no memory, tasked with saving all of humanity, and naturally responds by doing what any spreadsheet-loving, systems-minded person would do: break down the problem, test a hypothesis, and refuse to die dumb. The real surprise, though, isn’t the astrophysics (which are wild and clever); it’s the unexpected friendship at the center of the story. For someone who values resourcefulness, quiet resilience, and a touch of emotional depth beneath all the logic, this hits just right. It’s part science thriller, part buddy comedy, and all about solving the impossible one calculated risk at a time.