Theo Baker on how to rule the world

Michael Moritz, a former journalist, became one of Silicon Valley's most successful investors — and a philanthropist who has quietly backed the Booker Prize and San Francisco journalism. Yet he never escaped the terror of his family's past. The longtime Sequoia Capital leader's new book, "Ausländer," traces how his family's flight from Nazi Germany echoes in the lives of descendants who never lived it.    

David Perlis argues that a small, isolated county on the other side of the Golden Gate from San Francisco quietly helped invent modern America. Zen thinkers, the Grateful Dead, Star Wars, the loosening of the American mind, he says in his new book "Morning in Marin," ran through its foggy hills before reaching the rest of us. Then the outsiders became insiders.  

Joseph Ogilvy, an author and chef, argues that California began as a maritime frontier facing China long before it became the western terminus of the American story. In his new book "Tin Can Coast," he follows the otter, the abalone, and the sardine through three centuries of abundance and greed, and shows how even conservation became a way of deciding who belonged.

Rep. Jared Huffman, who represents Marin County and the North Coast, may be among the most unusual members of the House — and the only one who will say out loud that he doesn't believe in God. In his new book, "No Prophets," he argues that Christian nationalism has given up on democracy. He explains why he thinks the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol was a religious event, and what it means when a movement decides it no longer needs to win elections.  

The Los Angeles Times sports columnist Bill Shaikin unravels the story of Mark Walter, the billionaire who turned the Dodgers into champions and flipped the Lakers for $2.5 billion barely a year after buying them. Now his insurance-fueled sports empire faces federal scrutiny. What happens when franchises become financial instruments?  

Theo Baker arrived at Stanford University at the age of 17 wanting in. What he found, as he recounts in his new book "How to Rule the World: An Education in Power at Stanford University," was a machine: venture capitalists scouting freshmen, "pre-idea funding," yacht parties, and a secret elite — all riding on a culture of cutting corners that influenced everyone from his classmates to the university president.

Emily Hoeven expected the towns hosting America's new data centers to be the angriest. She found the opposite. In a recent column for the San Francisco Chronicle — titled "'We were a dying little town': How Silicon Valley data centers are reshaping rural America" — she maps a strange disconnect: the dread over data centers looms large in the Bay Area, cradle of the artificial intelligence boom, while places bearing the weight, like Ellendale, North Dakota, have made their peace.

Lainey Feingold has spent her career winning digital access for disabled people without ever filing a lawsuit — sitting down with the banks instead of suing them. Now the San Francisco disability rights attorney gathers thirty-nine voices into Digital Accessibility Ethics, arguing that as AI rebuilds the digital world, designing for the edge builds something better for everyone.

Greg Sarris has served as tribal chairman of the Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria for more than 30 years. He led the tribe's push for federal recognition, which paved the way for the multibillion-dollar Graton Resort & Casino in Rohnert Park. Along the way, he authored six books, including the 1994 novel "Grand Avenue," which portrays Indian characters in Santa Rosa and was adapted into an HBO miniseries. His latest work, "The Last Human Bear," tells the story of an old Pomo woman who spent a lifetime refusing what she inherited.

Erika Anderson isn't an engineer — she's a writer who came to artificial intelligence and to the Bay Area asking what it means to be human. She built HumaneBench, a tool that evaluates whether AI systems actually treat us well. As we increasingly develop relationship with bots, Anderson argues that we can only manage what we measure. And once we start measuring, we have an obligation to do something about it.