Publisher Description

Reality first appeared in the late 1980s—in the sense not of real life but rather of the TV entertainment genre inaugurated by shows such as Cops and America’s Most Wanted; the daytime gabfests of Geraldo, Oprah, and Donahue; and the tabloid news of A Current Affair. In a bracing work of cultural criticism, Eric Harvey argues that reality TV emerged in dialog with another kind of entertainment that served as its foil while borrowing its techniques: gangsta rap. Or, as legendary performers Ice Cube and Ice-T called it, “reality rap.” Reality rap and reality TV were components of a cultural revolution that redefined popular entertainment as a truth-telling medium. Reality entertainment borrowed journalistic tropes but was undiluted by the caveats and context that journalism demanded. While N.W.A.’s “Fuck tha Police” countered Cops’ vision of Black lives in America, the reality rappers who emerged in that group’s wake, such as Snoop Doggy Dogg and Tupac Shakur, embraced reality’s visceral tabloid sensationalism, using the media's obsession with Black criminality to collapse the distinction between image and truth. Reality TV and reality rap nurtured the world we live in now, where politics and basic facts don’t feel real until they have been translated into mass-mediated entertainment.

The O.J. Simpson saga has been one of the most followed events in history. From the grisly discovery to the slow-motion car chase, from the trial of the century to the verdict that stopped and shocked the nation, this case sparked a whole industry of media productions and threw into public awareness more details, people, phrases, ideas, and new forensic technology than could ever be remembered. O.J. A to Z is the first and only comprehensive guide to the trial of the century. Arranged in an easy-to-follow alphabetical format, this mini-encyclopedia is an all-encompassing rundown to every person, place, and thing--every detail of the bloody events of June 12, 1994, through the acquittal 478 days later. From A.C. Cowlings to Keith Zlomsowitch with everything in between, O.J. A to Z is the essential reference guide for those obsessed with the trial and those just curious about what happened. By Clifford L. Linedecker.

Ask the gangsta rap devotee. Ask the grizzled blues fanatic and the bearded folk fan. Ask the goth and the indie kid. Ask and they will all tell you the same thing: death and popular music have forever danced hand-in-hand in funereal waltz time. The pop charts and the majority of radio stations' playlists may conspire to convince anyone listening that the world spins on its axis to the tune of "I love you, you love me" and traditional matters of the heart. The rest of us know that we live in a world where red roses will one day become lilies and that death is the motor that drives the greatest and most exhilarating music of all. "Death music" is not merely a byword for bookish solemnity, or the glorification of murder, drugs and guns. Over the course of the last hundred years it has also been about teenage girls weeping over their high school boyfriend's fatal car wreck; natural disasters sweeping whole communities away; the ever-evolving threat of disease; changing attitudes to old age; exhortations to suicide; the perfect playlist for a funeral; and the thorny question of what happens after the fat lady ceases to sing. Which means that for every "Black Angel's Death Song" there is a "Candle in the Wind," and for every "Cop Killer" there is "The Living Years." Death, like music, is a unifying force. There is something for every taste and inclination, from murderous vengeance to camp sentimentality and everything in between. Drawing upon original and unique interviews with artists such as Mick Jagger, Richard Thompson, Ice-T, Will Oldham and Neil Finn among many others, I Shot a Man In Reno explores how popular music deals with death, and how it documents the changing reality of what death means as one grows older. It's as transfixing as a train wreck, and you won't be able to put it down. as an epilogue, I Shot A Man In Reno presents the reader with the 40 greatest death songs of all time, complete with a brief rationale for each, acting as a primer for the morbidly curious listener.

The term “cult film” may be difficult to define, but one thing is certain: A cult film is any movie that has developed a rabid following for one reason or another. From highly influential works of pop art like Eraserhead and Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! to trash masterpieces such as Miami Connection and Fateful Findings, thousands of movies have earned recognition as cult classics over the years, and new movies rise to cult status every year. So how do viewers searching for the best or most important cult films decide where to start? In 100 Greatest Cult Films, Christopher J. Olson highlights the most provocative, intriguing, entertaining, and controversial films produced over the last century. The movies included here have either earned reputations as bona fide cult classics or have in some way impacted our understanding of cult cinema, often transcending traditional notions of “good” and “bad” while featuring memorable characters, unforgettably shocking scenes, and exceptionally quotable dialogue. With detailed arguments for why these films deserve to be considered among the greatest of all time, Olson provides readers fodder for debate and a jumping-off point for future watching. A thought-provoking and accessible look at dozens of cinematic “treasures,” this resource includes valuable information on the films, creators, and institutions that have shaped cult cinema. Ultimately, The 100 Greatest Cult Films offers readers—from casual cinephiles, film scholars, and avid fans alike—a chance to discover or re-discover some of the most memorable films of all time.

A New York Times bestseller and the basis for the Netflix film 22 July: “A chilling descent into the mind of mass murderer Anders Breivik.” —Kirkus Reviews One of The New York Times Book Review’s Ten Best Books of 2015 On July 22, 2011, Anders Behring Breivik detonated a bomb outside the Norwegian prime minister’s office in central Oslo, killing eight people. He then proceeded to a youth camp on the wooded island of Utøya, where he killed sixty-nine more, most of them teenage members of the country’s governing Labour Party. In One of Us, the journalist Åsne Seierstad tells the story of this terrible day and its reverberations. How did Breivik, a gifted child from an affluent neighborhood in Oslo, become Europe’s most reviled terrorist? How did he accomplish an astonishing one-man murder spree? And how did a famously peaceful and prosperous country cope with the slaughter of so many of its young? Delving deep into Breivik’s childhood, Seierstad shows how a hip-hop and graffiti aficionado became a right-wing activist, a successful entrepreneur, and then an Internet game addict and self-styled master warrior who believed he could save Europe from the threat of Islam and multiculturalism. She writes with equal intimacy about Breivik’s victims, tracing their political awakenings, teenage flirtations and hopes, and ill-fated journeys to the island. In the book’s final act, Seierstad describes Breivik’s tumultuous public trial. Lauded in Scandinavia for its literary merit and moral poise, One of Us is at once a psychological study of violent extremism, a dramatic true crime procedural, and a compassionate inquiry into how a privileged society copes with homegrown evil.

Published three times per year by Indiana University Press for the Hutchins Center at Harvard University, Transition is a unique forum for the freshest, most compelling ideas from and about the black world. Since its founding in Uganda in 1961, the magazine has kept apace of the rapid transformation of the African Diaspora and has remained a leading forum of intellectual debate. This issue of Transition focuses on "Mad." The editors look at connections between blackness and psychology, examining Richard Wright's attempts to bring clinical psychotherapy to Harlem and revealing the links between schizophrenia and fears of black "psychos." As Ferguson, Missouri becomes the latest community to rage against the state-sanctioned murder of unarmed black men, we ask what James Baldwin and Stokely Carmichael might have to tell us about why African Americans continue to be pushed to the margins of American society. The editors also examine the marginalized community of black Palestinians, doubly imperiled by Israeli slaughter and internal racism. And finally, on a lighter note, discover music and art that we're "mad" about—from Otis Redding and Vijay Iyer to Kara Walker and Christopher Cozier.