Back in 2015, Esquire published a list of “80 Books Every Man Should Read.” It wasn’t our finest moment. The list claimed to be “utterly biased,” and indeed it was. We received criticism from every corner of the Internet, and we deserved it. So, we resolved to step back into the literary Thunderdome and issue a new iteration of "80 Books Every Man Should Read." Our editors gathered in our New York office to nominate hundreds of choices, then winnow them down to these 80 worthy standouts. From fiction to nonfiction to poetry, Nobel Prize winners to forgotten geniuses, this list spans a wide swath of forms, writers, and literary history. These books will change you, challenge you, and above all entertain you. No doubt some of you will have objections to what we selected and what we overlooked. We welcome that, and we want to hear from you. Chances are, in another six years, another group of loving, diligent readers will come along and outdo us.
|
|
|
Self care purchases, sustainable mugs, and more. |
|
So, what do we think will be addressed in Chris Rock: Selective Outrage? You can probably guess. |
|
|
True believers on the House Republicans' "weaponization" committee continue to get high on their own supply. A flashback: February 9, 2023, the first public hearing of the House Select Subcommittee on the Weaponization of the Federal Government, Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio), presiding: "Dozens and dozens of whistleblowers, FBI agents, coming to us talking about what is going on in the political nature of the Justice Department. This is not Jim Jordan saying this, not Republicans. It's not conservatives. It's good and brave FBI agents, willing to come forward and give us the truth. And this is just the FBI." March 2, 2023: Yeah—not so much. From The New York Times: "The trio appears to be a group of aggrieved former F.B.I. officials who have trafficked in right-wing conspiracy theories."
|
|
|
If you're going to invest in at-home bubbly water, this is absolutely the way to do it. |
|
The Mac revolutionized the home computer, and its replacement is here in an unlikely little box. |
|
|
Monday morning in the hills above Hollywood. We’re in Pine’s sauna, a cube of wood and glass near the edge of his property. Pine—lightly bearded, shock of graying hair, wearing only orange board shorts—is perusing little bottles, dripping essential oils into a waist-high chimney topped with hissing hot stones, fine-tuning the vibe. “I love any sort of ritual,” he says. “I can even get into a Catholic Mass because I like the aesthetic. And a sauna is a whole ritual. It’s about gifting yourself a period where there’s nothing to do other than to purify, to release, to cleanse, to start again.” When he’s alone in the sauna, Pine will stretch or listen to a podcast, but because I’m here, we talk about his last big moment out in the world: the seemingly quite nutso Don’t Worry Darling press tour, consumed soap-operatically by a diversion-craving populace when the film premiered in Venice last September.
|
|
|
|
