I read Benjamin Nugent’s latest in a day-long book binge, moving from my perch on the couch only when absolutely necessary, and even then, only begrudgingly. It was a nerdy thing to do, but understandably so, for in American Nerd: The Story of My People (Scribner, 224 pp.), Nugent has crafted an account of modernity’s ultimate outsiders that is hard to put down. Part cultural history, part autobiography, Nugent states at the outset his intention to take seriously a subject most often treated lightly, and the rewards of this tack become immediately clear. Tracing the development of nerds from their first appearances in the 19th century to their prominent role in society today, American Nerd draws out some unexpected conclusions about who nerds are and how they came to be.

Beginning the book with a refutation of the most current Wikipedia definition of “nerd,” Nugent argues that there are, in fact, two main categories of nerd: one, intellectual and socially awkward in ways that strike people as machinelike; the other nerdy by sheer force of social exclusion. However, it is the explorations of subcultures within the subculture that truly fascinate, as Nugent attempts to find the connections between Dungeons and Dragons enthusiasts, ham radio operators, computer programmers and debating club champions. These pursuits are characterized by clearly defined rule sets that Nugent views as a refuge for nerds who have trouble interpreting the social situations and indirect communication necessary for navigating everyday society. Similarly intriguing is his exploration of the correspondence between nerdiness and ethnicity, dissecting the ways that certain cultures are portrayed as being inherently nerdier than others.

While Nugent’s studious approach unearths some beguiling facts (who knew that we had Dr. Seuss to thank for the first printed appearance of the word nerd, in his 1950 book If I Ran the Zoo?) it is his willingness to discuss his own nerdiness that makes American Nerd such a resonant read. Self-effacing anecdotes about his socially awkward youth pepper the text, from his grade school lunch hours spent immersed in a medieval fantasy world to the humiliating necessity of having a physical therapist teach him how to ride a bike. It is in the poignant retelling of his mid-teen decision to stop being a nerd at the cost of abandoning his friends that American Nerd transcends the merely cringe inducing and becomes something deeper. Brainy, if occasionally awkward, American Nerd is a charming piece of cultural criticism.

While reading American Nerd, I was reminded of another book that explored a seemingly superficial topic with surprising results. Allan Peterkin’s One Thousand Beards: A Cultural History of Facial Hair (Arsenal Pulp Press, 227 pp.), first published in 2001, has been updated and expanded to incorporate the latest in cutting-edge pogonolgy (beard scholarship). Entertaining and insightful, Peterkin documents the rise and fall of facial hair throughout the ages, beginning in ancient Egypt and following it through modernity. With chapter titles like “the Gay Beard” and “the Unconscious Beard,” One Thousand Beards explores the myriad ways that class, religious belief, historical precedent and occupational status determine facial hair. By approaching a silly subject seriously, Peterkin has written a light-hearted book that will appeal to the hirsute and alopecic alike.