Nick Paumgarten

The Intangibles is Paumgarten's memoir told through the odd but vivid lens of hockey. Not a book about hockey, really, but one in which a lifetime of obsessively hanging around the game - as a "beer League" player, a parent, a son, a coach, a fan, a middle-aged white guy in New York, a person of privilege, an imperfect man among other imperfect men - provides a vivid and sneaky-exotic window into a cultish world that hides in plain sight. The Intangibles is also a timely, sharp, and witty exploration of masculinity, of boys and men, sons and fathers, of both the toxic and non-toxic kinds. And a deep, questioning look at, and finally a celebration of, a certain world of male friendship, in which sport - or the dreams of sport - becomes the lingua franca for a group of men with all their faults and hopes. Paumgarten's memoir both explores and undermines some of the mythologies of manhood and sport, while creating a fresh, rich, and honest portrait of men at play - the kind of male play of such outsized importance that it defies logic, age, orthopedics, and the responsibilities of grown-up life. For all its entertainment and humor, however, The Intangibles also reveals a shadow male world that is both shocking and commonplace. It happens to be an atmosphere that many American boys and men still breathe - in schools, offices, locker rooms, bars, and backyards - and that women have had to contend with. Paumgarten never felt entirely comfortable around bro culture, but it's always been there, in myriad forms, from the subtle to the extreme. In The Intangibles - the name of Paumgarten's most memorable beer league team - we meet an array of hockey-crazy men, the author included, trying to make their way through the world with the baggage that's been laid on them by the men came before them - fathers, grandfathers, coaches, sports heroes - and the growing knowledge that they have laid their own baggage on their sons. Striped through these mines of granite and ore, shining like precious metals, are surprising veins of vulnerability, reflection, and reckoning. Though he rarely plays anymore, Paumgarten still cherishes the game of hockey. In many respects, The Intangibles is a love letter to the game, and a razor-sharp, original, and mordant anthropology of its participants and their earnest strivings by one of our finest writers.

The long-awaited first book by the award-winning New Yorker staff writer - a memoir that uses his lifelong obsession with the game of hockey as a prism into a sharp, witty, and entertaining exploration of masculinity, of boys and men, sons and fathers For two decades, Nick Paumgarten has been one of the New Yorker's most cherished and popular staff writers. He can take a subject as ordinary as the elevator, as opaque as high-frequency trading or as iconic as the Grateful Dead, and make it shimmer with story, characters, humor, and consequence. What Nick Paumgarten has never done -- until now -- is write a book. THE INTANGIBLES is Paumgarten's memoir told through the odd but vivid lens of hockey. Not a book about hockey, really, but one in which a lifetime of obsessively hanging around the game -- as a "beer League" player, a parent, a son, a coach, a fan, a middle-aged white guy in New York, a person of privilege, an imperfect man among other imperfect men -- provides a vivid and sneaky-exotic window into a cultish world that hides in plain sight. THE INTANGIBLES is also a timely, sharp, and witty exploration of masculinity, of boys and men, sons and fathers, of both the toxic and non-toxic kinds. And a deep, questioning look at, and finally a celebration of, a certain world of male friendship, in which sport -- or the dreams of sport -- becomes the lingua franca for a group of men with all their faults and hopes. Paumgarten's memoir both explores and undermines some of the mythologies of manhood and sport, while creating a fresh, rich, and honest portrait of men at play -- the kind of male play of such outsized importance that it defies logic, age, orthopedics, and the responsibilities of grown-up life. For all its entertainment and humor, however, THE INTANGIBLES also reveals a shadow male world that is both shocking and commonplace. It happens to be an atmosphere that many American boys and men still breathe -- in schools, offices, locker rooms, bars, and backyards -- and that women have had to contend with. Paumgarten never felt entirely comfortable around bro culture, but it's always been there, in myriad forms, from the subtle to the extreme. In THE INTANGIBLES -- the name of Paumgarten's most memorable beer league team - we meet an array of hockey-crazy men, the author included, trying to make their way through the world with the baggage that's been laid on them by the men came before them -- fathers, grandfathers, coaches, sports heroes -- and the growing knowledge that they have laid their own baggage on their sons. Striped through these mines of granite and ore, shining like precious metals, are surprising veins of vulnerability, reflection, and reckoning. Though he rarely plays anymore, Paumgarten still cherishes the game of hockey. In many respects, THE INTANGIBLES is a love letter to the game, and a razor-sharp, original, and mordant anthropology of its participants and their earnest strivings by one of our finest writers.

America s Western water crisis is now newsworthy on a global level, and the Colorado River is in the crosshairs. The Colorado River is the most comprehensive look at this challenged resource that supplies drinking water to forty million Americans and supports nearly one-fifth of the country s GDP. While acclaimed photographer Pete McBride has covered water worldwide and been dubbed a 'freshwater hero' by National Geographic, he now brings us home to his deepest passion: saving his backyard river, the Colorado. For two decades, McBride has documented the Colorado River, from source to sea and always with a camera in hand. Through McBride s photography and his own words, as well as essays on climate change and river overuse, we witness the stark reality of our water crisis but also the remarkable beauty and resilience of this ephemeral source of life.