"The best book to have been written about the Vietnam War" (The New York Times Book Review); an instant classic straight from the front lines. From its terrifying opening pages to its final eloquent words, Dispatches makes us see, in unforgettable and unflinching detail, the chaos and fervor of the war and the surreal insanity of life in that singular combat zone. Michael Herr’s unsparing, unorthodox retellings of the day-to-day events in Vietnam take on the force of poetry, rendering clarity from one of the most incomprehensible and nightmarish events of our time. Dispatches is among the most blistering and compassionate accounts of war in our literature.

"The Onion is laugh-out-loud, go-tell-your-friends, get-angry-you-didn't-think-of-it funny." -Conan O'Brien "Outside of maybe Dario Fo, an Italian who few are sure exists, the Onion people make the most consistently perfect and excoriating social commentary we currently have. But will those Nobel bastards honor them, too? Only God, our merciless and just God, knows." -Dave Eggers "The funniest publication in the United States." -The New Yorker "This publication is tasteless and destructive to our shared values. Read it for yourself and you'll see what I mean. Seriously, what else could make me laugh-much less laugh uproariously-while being offended week after week after week?" -Al Gore "The Onion is the funniest thing in news since Dan Rather's spooky stare." -Matt Groening "Brutal satire that rushes into the far reaches of race, class, sexuality, and culture where many publications-and critics-fear to tread." -Chicago Tribune "The Onion, unlike any other entity in our media culture, offers a refreshingly honest look at our complicated life." -Ken Burns

Named one of the Ten Best Books About Food of 2018 by Smithsonian magazine MAD Dispatches: Furthering Our Ideas About Food Good food is the common ground shared by all of us, and immigration is fundamental to good food. In eighteen thoughtful and engaging essays and stories, You and I Eat the Same explores the ways in which cooking and eating connect us across cultural and political borders, making the case that we should think about cuisine as a collective human effort in which we all benefit from the movement of people, ingredients, and ideas. An awful lot of attention is paid to the differences and distinctions between us, especially when it comes to food. But the truth is that food is that rare thing that connects all people, slipping past real and imaginary barriers to unify humanity through deliciousness. Don’t believe it? Read on to discover more about the subtle (and not so subtle) bonds created by the ways we eat. Everybody Wraps Meat in Flatbread: From tacos to dosas to pancakes, bundling meat in an edible wrapper is a global practice. Much Depends on How You Hold Your Fork: A visit with cultural historian Margaret Visser reveals that there are more similarities between cannibalism and haute cuisine than you might think. Fried Chicken Is Common Ground: We all share the pleasure of eating crunchy fried birds. Shouldn’t we share the implications as well? If It Does Well Here, It Belongs Here: Chef René Redzepi champions the culinary value of leaving your comfort zone. There Is No Such Thing as a Nonethnic Restaurant: Exploring the American fascination with “ethnic” restaurants (and whether a nonethnic cuisine even exists). Coffee Saves Lives: Arthur Karuletwa recounts the remarkable path he took from Rwanda to Seattle and back again.

Laugh-out-loud observations from “America’s foremost humorist” (Chicago Tribune). What Men Don’t Tell Women: Well, that’s just for starters. Roy Blount Jr. realized that nearly all of his writing involved things people don’t tell people: what Southerners don’t tell Northerners, what the sick don’t want to hear from the well, what no one would ever tell their mother, and what authors rarely admit to their readers. That all changes in this “honest . . . funny” collection of confessional essays about sex, friendship, marriage, male bonding, female patience, and Elvis (The Boston Globe). One Fell Soup: A deliciously funny stew of reviews, diatribes, investigations, meditations, assorted grumblings, and verse about the absurdities of American life, death, fears, and ambition. Included in these fifty-nine easy pieces: the truth (as Blount sees it) about nudism, cricket-fighting, bowling, macaroni and cheese, black holes and black socks, nuclear holocausts, the CIA, domesticated fowl, pork bellies, God, and more. The whole shebang from “one of the most clever (see sly, witty, cunning, nimble) wordsmiths cavorting in the English language” (Carl Hiaasen). Camels Are Easy, Comedy’s Hard: Flesh-eating piranha! Synchronized swimming! Rubber chickens! Edith Wharton! Crossword puzzles! All and then some in this giddy compendium of essays, celebrity profiles, silly games, and side trips. Parts sports journalism, literary criticism, travel writing, and aborted novel, tossed with a few poems and a neo-Biblical one-act play, this is an uproarious—and sometimes heartening—anthology of adventures from “one writer who never fails to please” (The Village Voice).

dispatches publishes in-depth analysis, on-the-ground reporting, and photography essays focused on one critical global topic per issue.

From the laboratory of neoliberalismpopularly known as 'globalization' Latin America has transformed itself into a launching pad for resistance. As globalization began to spread its devastation, robust and thoughtful opposition emerged in response in the recovered factory movement of Argentina, in the presidential elections of indigenous leaders and radicals like Chavez and Morales, against the privatization of water in Bolivia. Across Latin America, people have built social movements that are starting to take back control of their countries and their lives.In Dispatches from Latin America, 28 authors report on 11 different countries from Mexico to Argentina, together mapping the contemporary political and social terrain. Drawn from the pages of the well-respected NACLA Report, this collection offers us a riveting series of accounts that bring new insight into the region's struggles and victories.With shrewd analysis rendered in accessible language, Dispatches lays plain the complex and vitally important conditions unfolding in 21st-century Latin America.

“Why are Kazakhstan and Montana the same place?” asks one chapter of Kate Brown’s surprising and unusual journey into the histories of places on the margins, overlooked or erased. It turns out that a ruined mining town in Kazakhstan and Butte, Montana—America’s largest environmental Superfund site—have much more in common than one would think thanks to similarities in climate, hucksterism, and the perseverance of their few hardy inhabitants. Taking readers to these and other unlikely locales, Dispatches from Dystopia delves into the very human and sometimes very fraught ways we come to understand a particular place, its people, and its history. In Dispatches from Dystopia, Brown wanders the Chernobyl Zone of Alienation, first on the Internet and then in person, to figure out which version—the real or the virtual—is the actual forgery. She also takes us to the basement of a hotel in Seattle to examine the personal possessions left in storage by Japanese-Americans on their way to internment camps in 1942. In Uman, Ukraine, we hide with Brown in a tree in order to witness the annual male-only Rosh Hashanah celebration of Hasidic Jews. In the Russian southern Urals, she speaks with the citizens of the small city of Kyshtym, where invisible radioactive pollutants have mysteriously blighted lives. Finally, Brown returns home to Elgin, Illinois, in the midwestern industrial rust belt to investigate the rise of “rustalgia” and the ways her formative experiences have inspired her obsession with modernist wastelands. Dispatches from Dystopia powerfully and movingly narrates the histories of locales that have been silenced, broken, or contaminated. In telling these previously unknown stories, Brown examines the making and unmaking of place, and the lives of the people who remain in the fragile landscapes that are left behind.