A decade ago Philip Connors left work as an editor at the "Wall Street Journal" and talked his way into a job far from the streets of lower Manhattan: working as one of the last fire lookouts in America. Spending nearly half the year in a 7' x 7' tower, 10,000 feet above sea level in remote New Mexico, his tasks were simple: keep watch over one of the most fire-prone forests in the country and sound the alarm at the first sign of smoke.

"Fire Season" is Connors's remarkable reflection on work, our place in the wild, and the charms of solitude. The landscape over which he keeps watch is rugged and roadless--it was the first region in the world to be officially placed off limits to industrial machines--and it typically gets hit by lightning more than 30,000 times per year. Connors recounts his days and nights in this forbidding land, untethered from the comforts of modern life: the eerie pleasure of being alone in his glass-walled perch with only his dog Alice for company; occasional visits from smokejumpers and long-distance hikers; the strange dance of communion and wariness with bears, elk, and other wild creatures; trips to visit the hidden graves of buffalo soldiers slain during the Apache wars of the nineteenth century; and always the majesty and might of lightning storms and untamed fire.

Written with narrative verve and startling beauty, and filled with reflections on his literary forebears who also served as lookouts--among them Edward Abbey, Jack Kerouac, Norman Maclean, and Gary Snyder--"Fire Season" is a book to stand the test of time.

For a decade Philip Connors has spent nearly half of each year in a 7' x 7' fire lookout tower, 10,000 feet above sea level, keeping watch over one of the most fire-prone forests in America. Fire Season is his remarkable reflection on work, untamed fire, our place in the wild, and the charms of solitude. Written with narrative verve and startling beauty, and filled with heartfelt reflections on his literary forebears who also served as "freaks on the peaks"--among them Edward Abbey, Jack Kerouac, and Norman Maclean--Fire Season is a book to stand the test of time.

Philip Connors s Fire Season, an account of the decade he spent working in a fire-lookout tower high above the remotest part of New Mexico, won the Banff Mountain Book Grand Prize and the Reading the West Book Award, and Amazon named it the Best Nature Book of the Year. Now Connors returns with the story of what drove him up to the tower in the first place: the wilderness years he spent reeling in the wake of a family tragedy. This is an unforgettable account of grappling with a shattered sense of purpose, from his family s failing pig farm in Minnesota to a crack-addled Brooklyn neighborhood to the mountains of New Mexico, where he puts the pieces of his life back together. Like Cheryl Strayed s Wild, this is a finely wrought look back at wayward youth and a redemptive story about discovering one s place in the world."

Southwest Book Award, BRLA Notable Book, Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Award Amazon Book Review Best Nonfiction of 2018 2018 Publisher's Weekly Best Books of the Year, Nonfiction 2018 Southwest Books of the Year Outside Magazine Pick for Best Adventure Books of the Season NPR Summer Reading List Pick From one of the last fire lookouts in America comes this sequel to the award-winning Fire Season--a story of calamity and resilience in the world's first Wilderness. A dozen years into his dream job keeping watch over the Gila Wilderness of New Mexico, Philip Connors bore witness to the wildfire he had always feared: a conflagration that forced him off his mountain by helicopter, and changed forever the forest and watershed he loved. It was merely one of many transformations that arrived in quick succession, not just fire and flood but illness, divorce, the death of a fellow lookout in a freak accident, and a tragic plane crash that rocked the community he called home. At its core an elegy for a friend he cherished like a brother, A Song for the River opens into celebration of a landscape redolent with meaning--and the river that runs through it. Connors channels the voices of the voiceless in a praise song of great urgency, and makes a plea to save a vital piece of our natural and cultural heritage: the wild Gila River, whose waters are threatened by a potential dam. Brimming with vivid characters and beautiful evocations of the landscape, A Song for the River carries the story of the Gila Wilderness forward to the present precarious moment, and manages to find green shoots everywhere sprouting from the ash. Its argument on behalf of things wild and free could not be more timely, and its goal is nothing less than permanent protection for that rarest of things in the American West, a free-flowing river--the sinuous and gorgeous Gila. It must not perish.