We’ve all had those days when people get under our skin, whether it’s from scrolling through the news, overhearing something unkind, or just standing in a long line watching tempers flare. In How to Be a Living Thing, Mari Andrew acknowledges how hard it can be to love humanity. What makes her approach stand out is the way she turns to the animal world for perspective. By observing animals and reflecting on their behavior, she uncovers lessons about what it really means to be human.

Through these essays, Andrew reminds us how closely our lives are tied to animals, often in ways we don’t notice. She also points to the extraordinary and sometimes mysterious abilities of non-human creatures, nudging us to remember how much we still have to learn. She writes about animals with genuine admiration, yet never at the expense of people. She clearly loves humans too, a rare quality among animal lovers, and that felt comforting in a world where it can be tempting to lose faith in one another.

In this book, she reframes the old question of whether humans are “good” or “bad.” Instead of searching for a simple answer, she suggests something different: step outside. Spend time in nature. Look at the world beyond ourselves. Out there, things aren’t so black and white, and somehow, the beauty of nature makes it easier to soften our view of humanity. That idea stayed with me. I’ve always believed life is full of gray areas, but I also feel a deep sadness when I see how we keep destroying the very beauty we’ve been given. Maybe this mix of love and disappointment is simply part of being human.

One of my favorite chapters was On Rats and Valuing Others. In it, she explores the judgments we make toward both animals and people. I’ve always been unsettled by those who take pride in being unempathetic, treating compassion as weakness. Life is unpredictable, and one of my own mottos has always been: never say never. None of us are immune to hardship. Andrew captures this perfectly when she writes: “Who’s to say we’re not one accident, one injury, or one pandemic away from losing that sense of control?” She describes how even her own disgust toward rats revealed something deeper. How easy it is to push others away when they don’t fit into our narrow definitions of normal. And then she delivers a line I’ll carry with me for a long time: “Perhaps one day… humanity won’t be so disgusted by those who don’t fit in but will instead be disgusted by any attempted norm that does not love or honor the sacredness of all lives on earth.”

Summary

Are Humans Good or Bad? What Nature Can Teach Us About Embracing Our Contradictions

It’s easy to see why people get frustrated with humanity. Wars, violence, and cruelty often dominate the headlines. When conversations turn to animals, many people confess they prefer them over human. “Humans suck,” they say. It’s tempting to agree. After all, who wouldn’t pick the company of a groundhog over dealing with conflict and cruelty?

But the truth is more complicated. Humans are capable of breathtaking beauty and horrifying brutality, sometimes in the same breath. The same civilization that created profound poetry also staged bloody battles for entertainment. The same political thinkers who drafted democracy’s foundations failed to end slavery. Even history’s most celebrated artists and leaders often carried private flaws, some were abusive partners or terrible parents.

As the poet Walt Whitman once wrote, “we contain multitudes.” Yet we struggle to accept contradictions in one another. Oddly enough, it feels easier to recognize that a bear can be both majestic and dangerous, or that our pets can be both beloved and exasperating.

Stepping away from the rigid “good or bad” binary and spending more time in nature can shift our perspective. In the quiet of the natural world, the contradictions of humanity feel less like evidence against us, and more like proof of our complexity, reminding us that there’s still space for love, even for ourselves.

Why Embracing Our Animal Side Matters

For centuries, thinkers have defined humanity by our differences from animals. The story we often tell is that what makes us human is precisely what separates us from the natural world.

But that belief comes with consequences. When societies cling to the idea that humans are “not animals,” any trait that seems too close to the natural world risks being seen as less-than-human. This mindset has historically led to certain people being devalued, especially those tied most closely to “natural” roles, such as giving birth.

What if we changed the definition? Instead of insisting that humanity is about being “not animal,” we could see ourselves as a beautifully imperfect species, one whose essence includes both strength and struggle, both brilliance and failure. Such a shift could make room for compassion, reminding us that to be human is not to escape nature, but to live within it.

Why Striving, Not Satisfaction, Fuels Human Happiness

Growing up, many children’s books painted a picture of bustling towns and busy lives, and that vision left a mark. Instead of dreaming about rest or leisure, the future often looked like a whirlwind of mornings, errands, and appointments, always on the move, always striving toward something just out of reach.

But here’s the paradox: convenience doesn’t bring joy, and even satisfaction itself falls short. Human happiness seems to need a little pocket of dissatisfaction, a gentle push that keeps us striving. Without it, life can feel flat, as though something essential is missing.

Seen in this light, not having what we want isn’t just a burden; it’s a gift. The longing creates anticipation, excitement, and energy. Unlike captive animals deprived of freedom and novelty, humans have the privilege of navigating an unpredictable world full of surprises. Desire, in many ways, is a key to happiness.

True fulfillment doesn’t come from doing nothing. It comes from doing something. Often, it comes from doing many things: big projects, meaningful efforts, and challenges that require work, sacrifice, and grit. In the striving itself, life feels alive.

What Animals Can Teach Us About Emotion, Evolution, and Belonging”

Humans like to think we’re unique, but the truth is more humbling. We don’t have the biggest brains, nor are we the only species with self-awareness. Manta rays, for example, will flip and twirl in front of mirrors to study their own reflections. Even emotionally, we may not be at the top. Orcas, with their enlarged emotional-processing centers, could very well experience feelings that are more complex, more intense, or even entirely beyond the human range.

As children, we instinctively sense this connection. Stuffed animals become beloved companions, and we’re quick to reach out to pet a cat, even when warned about germs. Yet something changes as we grow older. We begin to see animals less as kin and more as resources. We reject the part of ourselves that is still wild and insist on ranking our skills above all other species, even when those very species display abilities that surpass our own.

Instead of bending the world to fit us, perhaps evolution’s true lesson is the opposite: that our place is to fit into the world as it already is, alongside the other creatures that share it.

Why We’re More Like Rats Than Dogs (and What That Says About Us)

Humans often like to believe that dogs are our closest mirror in the animal world. It’s a flattering thought. Dogs are playful, social, loyal, protective, funny, and seemingly full of unconditional love. Compared to them, who wouldn’t rather identify with a golden retriever than a rat or a boa constrictor?

But the reality is less flattering. Biologically and behaviorally, humans are far more similar to rats than to dogs. Rats thrive in cities, adapt easily to our diets and shelters, and even display altruism, sacrificing themselves for others of their kind. Dogs, by contrast, depend on specialized care and have been shaped by humans to behave, and even look, a certain way. The “smile” we see on a dog’s face isn’t a natural trait but the result of selective breeding designed to make them appear happy in human eyes.

That same breeding has also caused enormous suffering. Boston terriers, with their round heads, are prone to seizures. French bulldogs, with exaggerated features we find “cute,” cannot even give birth naturally. Domesticated wolves might have been enough, but humans wanted more.

So when people say, “We don’t deserve dogs,” the truth is more complicated. We didn’t just stumble upon their loyalty and love. We constructed them, often at great cost to the animals themselves.

My Favorite Bits

How we decide what or who is valuable to us in society has almost everything to do with how “useful” they are. It’s as though the worthiness of human life itself isn’t quite enough…they also have to contribute on a level that we have decided is meaningful to us at this moment in time. Someday I’m not going to be useful. You’re not either. Even with impeccable health and a job that shines in a capitalistic framework, everyone gets old. Everyone gets sick. Everyone wonders how others—even their loved ones—will treat them when they can’t provide what they used to.

Mari Andrew, How to Be a Living Thing

For all we’ve done to plunder it, nature has never given up on us.(..) Nature’s grace is astoundingly generative. For all the trees we’ve ransacked, they still pump out endless supplies of oxygen. For all our careless light pollution, somehow Orion still shines down upon Brooklyn rooftops on late summer nights. For all the fireworks we set off that scare the living daylights out of our favorite birds, they return to our feeders the next morning—disoriented, but dutiful. And as much agency and comfort and naturalness that we’ve manipulated out of dogs, they sit by our sides, calm and caring, still ready to chase a predator away from the tribe.

Mari Andrew, How to Be a Living Thing

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Author: Mari Andrew
Publication date: 15 July 2025
Number of pages: 256 pages

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