In Race, Rock, and Elvis, Michael T. Bertrand contends that popular music, specifically Elvis Presley's brand of rock 'n' roll, helped revise racial attitudes after World War II. Observing that youthful fans of rhythm and blues, rock 'n' roll, and other black-inspired music seemed more inclined than their segregationist elders to ignore the color line, Bertrand links popular music with a more general relaxation, led by white youths, of the historical denigration of blacks in the South. The tradition of southern racism, successfully communicated to previous generations, failed for the first time when confronted with the demand for rock 'n' roll by a new, national, commercialized youth culture. In a narrative peppered with the colorful observations of ordinary southerners, Bertrand argues that appreciating black music made possible a new recognition of blacks as fellow human beings. Bertrand documents black enthusiasm for Elvis Presley and cites the racially mixed audiences that flocked to the new music at a time when adults expected separate performances for black audiences and white. He describes the critical role of radio and recordings in blurring the color line and notes that these media made black culture available to appreciative whites on an unprecedented scale. He also shows how music was used to define and express the values of a southern working-class youth culture in transition, as young whites, many of them trying to orient themselves in an unfamiliar urban setting, embraced black music and culture as a means of identifying themselves. By adding rock 'n' roll to the mix of factors that fed into civil rights advances in the South, Race, Rock, and Elvis shows how the music,with its rituals and vehicles, symbolized the vast potential for racial accord inherent in postwar society.

One of the most admired Southern historians of our time paints an intimate portrait of Elvis Presley, set against the rich backdrop of Southern society, that illuminates the zenith of his career, showing how Elvis himself changed—and didn't—and providing a deeper understanding of the man and his times.

It's Christmas Eve, 1959. The Colonel is busy in his Las Vegas office, awaiting Elvis's return from Germany. He will be out of the Army soon and is ready to take America back by storm. The Colonel has other plans. The next 17 years will be a cocktail of mostly bad movies, endless touring and beautiful women. If the Colonel had been given the power of foresight, and was able to see the past (his and Elvis') through the prism of the future, would he change course? The Colonel is visited this night by his one time business partner, Hank Snow. Hank warns him about three ghosts that will be visiting him (sound familiar). The first ghost arrives in a pink cadillac and is dressed in a gold lamee suit. The second is dressed in tight black leather, with a passion for food and guns. The third is smothered in polyester and sequins and trailed by a couple of laughing sycophants. Do the events of August 16th 1977 happen as we remember, or does Elvis play Portland, Maine that evening?

There is no other way to put it: Elvis is the King. Note the present tense: even though Elvis (supposedly) died nearly forty years ago, he has lived on in our hearts, as a sound, as an image, and as an especially vigorous personality. In fact, it’s safe to say no other celebrity has done so quite as well. The Death and Resurrection of Elvis Presley is the story of that afterlife, of Elvis after he left the building. Walking the eccentrically carpeted rooms of Graceland, bidding into stratospheric sums on his auctioned relics, and mingling among the some 200,000 impersonators of his likeness, Ted Harrison offers nothing less than the ultimate Elvis tribute. Harrison begins, of course, in pilgrimage: to Graceland. He shows how Elvis’s estate was pillaged nearly to ruin by his manager but was saved through the deft business acumen and financial vision of his divorced wife, one Priscilla Presley. If Graceland seems holy, that’s because it is: Harrison unveils in Elvis’s allure a deeply spiritual dimension, showing how Elvis fans, over the decades, have anointed their idol with Christ-like qualities. Through Elvis’s extravagance, Harrison raises fascinating links between money and faith, and through Elvis’s life, he shows how the King actually fulfilled a host of roles ranging from hero to martyr to saint. Underpinning the whole story is Elvis’s extraordinary charisma and—lest we forget—his astonishing musical genius. Fascinating, colorful, and deeply informative, this book is a must-have for any fan, anyone who was ever lucky enough to see Elvis alive or who hopes they might still be able to.

“An interesting look at how 1977 marked the explosion of punk alongside this heartbreaking (though not altogether surprising) loss of a legend” (USA Today). In the late 1970s, punk music was setting out to destroy everything Elvis Presley had come to represent. But punk couldn’t destroy The King himself—he had already done that, succumbing to his excesses at Graceland on August 16, 1977. Ever since, Elvis has permeated the world in ways that are bizarre and inexplicable: a pop icon while alive, he has become almost a religious icon in death, a modern-day martyr crucified on the wheel of drugs, celebrity culture, junk food, and sex. In Elvis Has Left the Building, Dylan Jones takes us back to those heady days around the time of his death and the simultaneous rise of punk. Evoking the hysteria and devotion of The King’s numerous disciples and imitators, Jones offers a uniquely insightful commentary on Elvis’s life, times, and outrageous demise. Recounting how the artist single-handedly changed the course of popular music and culture, he also delves deep into the cult of The King and reveals what Elvis’s death meant—and still means to us today. “I’m not sure punk would have existed without [Elvis]. In fact I’m not sure a lot of things would have existed without him. Dylan Jones is the right man to ponder such questions.” —Bono “A gripping tale of impossible success and terrible waste and lost beauty that veers from Memphis to Las Vegas and all the way to the broken backstreets of London.” —Tony Parsons, author of The Hanging Club

Reading Across the Pacific is a study of literary and cultural engagement between the United States and Australia from a contemporary interdisciplinary perspective. The book examines the relations of the two countries, shifting the emphasis from the broad cultural patterns that are often compared, to the specific networks, interactions, and crossings that have characterised Australian literature in the United States and American literature in Australia. In the 21st century, both American and Australian literatures are experiencing new challenges to the very different paradigms of literary history and criticism each inherited from the 20th century. In response to these challenges, scholars of both literatures are seizing the opportunity to reassess and reconfigure the conceptual geography of national literary spaces as they are reformed by vectors that evade or exceed them, including the transnational, the local and the global. The essays in Reading Across the Pacific are divided into five sections: 'National literatures and transnationalism', 'Poetry and poetics', 'Literature and popular culture', 'The Cold War', and 'Publishing history and transpacific print cultures'.

Though Elvis Presley's music is widely credited as starting a sea change in American popular culture, his films are often dismissed as superficial. Beyond the formulaic plotlines and the increasingly weaker songs, however, the films are rich with resonance to the changing times in which they were produced (roughly 1955-1970). They were also a means by which Elvis communicated deeply felt autobiographical material to his fan base, although in the guise of lighthearted escapist fare. This work takes a new stand, maintaining that Elvis's 31 Hollywood features and two documentaries reveal a profound statement from the star and auteur. Analyzing each film in detail and exploring the body of work as a whole, Brode reveals the Elvis persona as a contemporary Candide, attempting to navigate an ever changing social and political landscape.