McNally Jackson's Bestselling Nonfiction Staff Picks
An exercise in metaphor, Levy tries them on like clothes when describing (to you? to herself?) her quest for "more life" after a divorce at 50; sometimes they fit and sometimes they don't, but she wears them regardless.
This book is a hilarious and impassioned reminder that the laboratory, really the whole project of scientific inquiry, is a matter not of dry, clinical analysis, but a form of play. Feynman is a disarming guide through the cosmos, and a comic poet of the wonders of terrestrial life.
Trying to find footing, this book opened me up to new ideas on how I can move forward as a woman. Left with angst when posed with the statement, "As long as she has to fight to become a human being, she cannot be a creator.” Yet again, I feel I have no ammunition, no armor to defend myself. More than irritated, I hope to go “beyond the pretext” of what is expected of me. And to think I’d have to boost my masculinity to be taken seriously. I am feminine and strong and those qualities are enough.
This is the perfect self-help book for someone too embarrassed to buy a self-help book.
Early in the 20th century there was no community on earth wealthier than the Osage Nation. A book focused only on the origin of this wealth, and the ironic fact that it was the inadvertent result of racist federal relocation policies, would be worthy enough of our attention. The ensuing series of murders of members of the Osage Nation make for one of the most tragic and bizarre stories of the century. It's not much of a spoiler to reveal that, as is the case with most historical whodunits, the "who" in question is colonialism.
Are you vaxed, relaxed, and ready for hot girl summer? Even if full on slut-dom isn't your goal, this is one of the best books on interpersonal communication ever written. The tools that help navigate a threesome are the same as those used to navigate the post-lockdown brunch. Communicate what you want!
I’ve heard surfers praise Barbarian Days for capturing else the joys and sorrows of surfing—its “special brand of monomania,” to use Finnegan’s phrase—better than anything else. To this non-surfer, Finnegan’s account of life in and out of the water is vivid and precise—whether on fellow surfers’ styles, etiquette in the water, his own wanderlust, or the slow work of growing up—and as propulsive as any of the waves he rides. Surf’s up.
An anthropological study into the disturbing phenomenon that is lads on tour.
Short, simple, and just repetitive enough, this primer on prison abolition covers all the basics but never makes you feel talked down to. The prose is patient and kind and meets you where you are (especially if where you are is at the beginning). It might not convert your conservative uncle...but that's where you come in.
Uproariously funny and gleefully blasphemous, Priestdaddy sees Patricia Lockwood taking a big wet number two on the conservatism of her upbringing—as the title suggests, she has a Catholic priest for a father. But this singular memoir isn't all humor and angst. There are some truly poetic sentences in here, ornate and strange and beautifully poised, like saints in tableaus.
A feminist analysis of socialism that takes a nuanced approach to looking at the former Soviet Union and the economic independence of women. With plenty of critique of Soviet practices, there is one thing that Ghodsee is sure of: Women have better sex under socialism.