Chadds Ford, an upscale suburb in southeastern Pennsylvania, devotes a lot of energy to creating a historical identity. Numerous institutions participate in this task, including museums, a land conservancy dedicated to the preservation of its historical landscape, and the Historical Society, which is responsible for an annual community celebration. Larger institutions related to regional tourism and suburban development generate a steady flow of texts about Chadds Ford in the form of glossy travel magazines, pamphlets, brochures, and gallery displays.

This ethnography of teenage suburban drug dealers “provides a fascinating and powerful counterpoint to the devastation of the drug war” (Alice Goffman, author of On the Run). When we think about young people dealing drugs, we tend to picture it happening in disadvantaged, crime-ridden, urban neighborhoods. But drugs are used everywhere. And teenage users in the suburbs tend to buy drugs from their peers, dealers who have their own culture and code, distinct from their urban counterparts. In Code of the Suburb, Scott Jacques and Richard Wright offer a fascinating ethnography of the culture of suburban drug dealers. Drawing on fieldwork among teens in a wealthy suburb of Atlanta, they carefully parse the complicated code that governs relationships among buyers, sellers, police, and other suburbanites. That code differs from the one followed by urban drug dealers in one crucial respect: whereas urban drug dealers see violent vengeance as crucial to status and security, the opposite is true for their suburban counterparts. As Jacques and Wright show, suburban drug dealers accord status to deliberate avoidance of conflict, which helps keep their drug markets more peaceful—and, consequently, less likely to be noticed by law enforcement.

"A subversive and postmodern work about the town of Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania. The book considers Wyeth country-what kind of place it is and how it is constituted. . . . Dorst asks questions about how the place represents itself to itself and to tourists."-"Lingua Franca"

Something very strange is happening in Vermont. It's not The Game of Sunken Places--but when Brian and Gregory go to visit a relative in the woods, they find many things are . . . off.

A “funny and self-revealing” meditation on keeping your faith alive and vibrant in a world of strip malls, SUVs, and soccer games (Denver Post). Many seekers find themselves adrift in the seemingly unreal world of the suburbs. They read spirituality books, but struggle to stay connected to God while doing carpool duty or coaching soccer. In this book, Dave Goetz, a former pastor, shows that the suburbs are indeed a real world—but a spiritually corrosive one that can truly be toxic to the soul. Suburbanites need to understand how this comfortable, predictable environment affects them and what spiritual disciplines are needed for their faith to survive and thrive. Goetz identifies eight toxins in the suburban life, such as hyper-competition and the “transactional” friendship, and suggests eight corresponding disciplines to keep the spiritual life authentic. Goetz weaves sociology studies, his own experiences, current events, wisdom of the spiritual masters, and a little humor to equip spiritual suburbanites for relating to God amid Starbucks, strip malls, and perfect lawns. “Goetz’s witty new book deals with desperate housewives, clueless husbands, and stressed children—and the spirit-deadening alienation sometimes found in their housing tracts and cul-de-sacs.” —Orlando Sentinel

For decades the suburbs have been where art happens despite: despite the conformity, the emptiness, the sameness. Time and again, the story is one of gems formed under pressure and that resentment of the suburbs is the key ingredient for creative transcendence. But what if, contrary to that, the suburb has actually been an incubator for distinctly American art, as positively and as surely as in any other cultural hothouse? Mixing personal experience, cultural reportage, and history while rejecting clichés and pieties and these essays stretch across the country in an effort to show that this uniquely American milieu deserves another look.