The BQ Holiday Gift-O-Matic

Some books scream "gift." Others just scream.

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Published: Nov 15, 2006

Rocky Stories: Tales of Love, Hope and Happiness at America's Most Famous Steps

The best of those stories are compiled in Rocky Stories: Tales of Love, Hope and Happiness at America's Most Famous Steps. In one year, they talked to a single mom from Australia, businessmen from Utah, a couple who visited Philadelphia on Christmas just so the male half could do the run, and Flava Flav (yes, he's wearing a clock necklace in the picture). The stories aren't limited to humans, either. One of the sweeter tales is about a scruffy little dog from Clinton, N.J., whose owner named him Rocky after she saved him from the pound, and euthanasia. They ran the steps together.

One of the book's many strengths is in how well the stories are told, through words and images. Vitez and Gralish, both Pulitzer Prize winners, have been able to demonstrate why those steps are important to so many people, which these powerful individual stories show much better than anything Sylvester Stallone could say (though the foreword, which Stallone wrote, is a good overall summary). It's the extraordinary everyman examples — the woman in a wheelchair who is carried up; the actresses vaulting up off that last step — and the unfiltered images of Rocky-runners in full glory that express how one movie has been an inspiration for so many people from all over the world, right here in Philadelphia.

—Jen A. Miller

Writers don't drink like they used to. Oh sure, you can still hear stories of epic benders (especially if you hang around genre fan conventions, where such antics occur rather frequently) but for the most part, such tales are consigned to the past. Those looking to revisit those booze-soaked glory days, can thank Edward Hemingway — yes, he's Ernest's grandson — and Mark Bailey for assembling Hemingway & Bailey's Bartending Guide to Great American Writers , a colorful collection of anecdotes, excerpts and illustrations about the most notorious literary alcoholics of our time. Jam-packed with tales of topsy-turvy tipsiness, this slim volume is almost guaranteed to leave you buzzed on accounts of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald's prankish adventures, the lengths Jean Stafford would go to drink in secret, and of course, Papa Hemingway's outsized brawls. But if I had to choose a favorite, my hat is tipped to Raymond Chandler, who cured writer's block by jumping off the wagon, then finishing the script for The Blue Dahlia in a locked room, under guard, with only vitamin shots as sustenance because he barely ate when drinking. Hemingway's sharp writing, Bailey's witty caricatures and drink recipes galore add up to a tantalizing mix that's perfect for literary enthusiasts and modern drunkards of all stripes.

—Sarah Weinman

The graphic novel industry wasn't what it is today back in 1984, which is when Workman Publishing produced four illustrated editions of Shakespearean plays. But now that everything from the 9/11 Commission Report to a biography of Ronald Regan is getting the graphic treatment, the illustrated King Lear and Macbeth have been reissued by Black Dog & Leventhal.

The stories are the same — think greed, ambition and tragedy. But the images that accompany these unabridged texts give both plays a force that's hard to see through just words, especially if it's the first time you're picking up Shakespeare. King Lear is illustrated by Ian Pollock, whose illustrations have appeared in Esquire, Playboy, Reader's Digest and Rolling Stone. His work is more artistic and complex than Von's Macbeth, which looks more like a superhero-driven comic book than a classic tragedy. But both will help readers understand the plays. The best way to see Shakespeare's plays are on the stage, but if you can't call a Shakespearean company into your living room at will, these graphic volumes are the next best thing. They will also work as valuable teaching tools. After all, seeing an illustration of Birnam Hill marching toward Macbeth, signaling his end, makes much more of an impact — and sense — than reading about it in stage directions.

—Jen A. Miller

So you haven't been to a religious service since elementary school. Shrines: Images of Italian Worship might not save your soul, but it's still a gorgeous, stunning study of Italian history, culture and art that's worth a look no matter which God you call your own.

Photographer Steven Rothfeld traveled all over Italy, from farms to villages to cities, taking pictures of sculptures and paintings dedicated to the Virgin Mary and other saints. Much of what he found is old and faded, and a few paintings are so chipped that you can barely make out who was painted in the first place. A lot of the sculptures look like the blue-draped women who stand in front yards to guard many Italian-American homes. You can pick up hints about the locations and geography from the shrines themselves — some are encased in fencing to keep the birds away, and many are adorned with shells.

Shrines' weakness is the text, because there is so little of it. Frances Mayes, author of Under the Tuscan Sun, writes the book's forward, but Shrines would have been a deeper study if it had included more information about the shrines than just a list of locations in the back of the book. The lack of information doesn't take power away from the pictures, but it would have added.

—Jen A. Miller

When a new Jewish humor book hits the shelves, a tiny voice wonders, "But is it good for the Jews?" (No wonder literary agent Jonny Geller co-opted the title for a book of his own.) And with Hanukkah approaching, the bookstore displays are full of Judaica titles meant to tickle the funny bone. Already getting prominent placement is Jewtopia. Bryan Fogel and Sam Wolfson's coffee table tome is based on the long-running off-Broadway show of the same name, which is chock full of riffs on Jewish culture, religion and politics painted in broad brushstrokes. There aren't just Jewish mother jokes; there's a whole section devoted to how Fogel and Wolfson's moms reacted to their book deal. ("How can you write a book? You only scored 960 on the SATs!") Obligatory obsessions about Chinese food, kosher dietary laws and picture stories from the Bible also figure heavily. If you're looking for subtle nuance or satire that has something meaningful to say about how Jewish culture fits — or doesn't — within a greater spectrum, this isn't the book for you. But if you're already a big fan of Adam Sandler's "Hanukkah Song" and generally like a healthy dollop of ersatz with your entertainment, then Jewtopia will quell that tiny voice and make you laugh your tuchus off.

—Sarah Weinman

Hugh Grant getting a hummer. Paris Hilton getting nailed. These are not the things a child should see. So keep your fucking kid away from this pop-up book. Long the holy grail of kiddie cartoon publishing, the pop-up book has now become the province of tart, snarky horn-doggedness and delusional grandeur in the hands of MM's collective of illustrators. (Look at the same publishing house's Pop-up Book of Sex and Pop-Up Book of Phobias.) Through big-boned caricatures and intricately engineered design, you can make Janet Jackson's big pierced nipple appear out of nowhere when you choose to malfunction, watch Tom Cruise leap on Oprah Winfrey's couches, and force O.J. Simpson's Bronco through the highways of Los Angeles however you see fit. The funniest thing about Meltdown ? While illustrators and designers like Suck.com's Terry Colon and Maxim's Mick Coulas have done the nasty on a regular basis, Bruce Foster is best known for Charles Schulz's Peanuts: A Pop-Up Celebration and greeting cards for The Museum of Modern Art. Shame on you, Bruce.

—A.D. Amorosi

One glance at its Pepto-Bismol cover's plainness, and you can't help but think that Pink: The Exposed Color is some form of pale porn and that its front is the nouvelle ideal of the brown paper wrapping. But instead, this look at the fleshy hue (or the plastic-y tint, depending on your outlook) is a scholarly one, filled with un-flip forms of nationalism, art history, cultural predisposition and psychology as demonstrated by 50 diverse artists. Polished fashion shoots and sculpted boulders, glorious rose fields and unelegant bathrooms — these are just some of the odd elements that find themselves tickled Pink within this book's covers. There are the

fun facts about the color pink — like how in Japan, it's associated with falling cherry tree blossoms that echo the death of the samurai. Really? Sheesh. Is there nothing sexy here? There is, of course, Picasso's cubist looks at the rosy glow and Fragonard's delicate tints. While Christo's large-scape art pink-projects cover the topography with his usual algebraic sensuality, Nan Golden offers more graphic looks at the pink that maintain a surprising gentility for the usually stark photographer. Now I'm blushing.

—A.D. Amorosi

Puritan and Leg Show editor Dian Hanson was last seen at Taschen overseeing its ballsy Terryworld book. Now, in a far more feminine fashion, comes her look at the very real bosoms that stuff Breasts and the colorfully cartoonish Girly Magazines . As a writer, Hanson is a slickly informed pro whose prose is winking but never too blue. As an editor, there is no equal. The pinup-itty Girly feels retro because of its tones (those rich yellows) and shapes (those swerving curves and that easy voluptuousness), its star shooters and artists (Enoch Bolles, Peter Driben), as well as some of its subjects (Jane Mansfield, Tina Louise!). And of course stopping before the '70s helps keep Girly retro. But the past-perfection of Breasts comes from the fact that, like a Russ Meyer film, it is an all-natural, non-silicone mammary she's presenting, over and over. Along with a zillion photos — some in richly luxurious black and white — there are Hanson's provocative, informative interviews with the late Candy Barr, Tempest Storm and other breasty beauties. Because every tit man reads these books for the articles, right?

—A.D. Amorosi

If you want to know why Iran's ayatollahs harbor such hatred for the United States, or why their puppet president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad can be so smug, consult David Wallechinsky's book Tyrants: The World's 20 Worst Living Dictators for some quick answers. In this case, a hint would be the CIA-sponsored coup that installed the Shah in power in 1953. His demise in 1979, amidst the taking of American hostages, ushered in a new era of anti-Americanism throughout the Middle East.

Wallechinsky's break-it-down format, perfected in previous best sellers like The People's Almanac, makes it easy to digest the mind-assaulting amount of geopolitical circumstance that has contributed to the rise of these leaders. Ancient and modern histories are collated into a quick reference of political hot spots. He makes it all reader-friendly, but this is no mere trivia tome. If you were wondering about Zoroastrianism, for instance, you can find out all about it here.

Remember Woody Allen's military dictator in the movie Bananas, who made his subjects wear underwear outside their clothing? Tyrants has no shortage of similar comic relief amidst the atrocities of enslavement, war-mongering, murder, torture, rape, starvation, poverty, exploitation and other crimes against humanity.

The global balance of power can now instantly shift as rogue leaders make threats with nuclear and biological weapons, and Tyrants captures the realities of this perilous world. The arcane laundry list doesn't mean it isn't politically provocative. Wallechinsky weighs in heavily with a chapter titled "A Special Case: George W. Bush: The United States in America," which precedes his final salvo, "Overthrowing Dictators."

Philadelphia photographer extraordinaire Adam Wallacavage — longtime Space 1026 member, part of the Gyro team and former City Paper contributor — is the Dorothea Lange of the skateboard set. Working subtly behind the scenes since 1986, when he was just 16, Wallacavage has compiled a massive body of work, some of which has been gathered into a fantastic new book: Monster Size Monsters. Capturing only the most beautifully crucial moments of the action, with super-saturated color and no text save for a thorough intro from Jim Houser, a fun interview by Andrew Jeffrey Wright and an index, Monsters is hypnotic to leaf through. What will stop the Philadelphia reader along the way are errant flashes of recognition: Kim Montenegro in her NoLibs store; Toothless George wailing into his hand-built mic; Ryan Dunn leaping off the Trocadero's balcony onto the packed floor below.

Wallacavage learned how to shoot action photos through skateboarding, his trick being to stop quick action with lights and flashes. That approach works with everything else he shoots: live bands, kids sporting vintage Sabbath T-shirts, or old men in novelty baseball hats at flea markets and dogs' long snouts biting a summer sprinkler in midstream. The result is exciting images beautifully captured in ultra-vibrant, electric and somehow surreal compositions.

—Alex Richmond

The comics medium deserves the Best American treatment, but just as the Non-Required Reading series curtsies to the well-known tastes of its editor Dave Eggers, this compendium is decidedly Pekar-esque. Which, you know, duh. When you hire Harvey Pekar to curate your comics collection (the first in a presumably endless annual series), it's 'cause you're into the autobiographical, the independent, the unpredictable. But how unpredictable is it? Chris Ware? Check. R. Crumb? Check. (And damn, it's a good one.) Jaime Hernandez, Lynda Barry, Joe Sacco. Checks. (What, did Daniel Clowes take the year off?) There is also, no surprise, a healthy dose of McSweeney's and not a single mainstream title represented. (What, did Batman take the year off?) The only honest-to-blazes superhero is in Joel Priddy's spectacular "Onion Jack," whose stick-figure star thinks cooking is his calling but turns to a life of crime-fighting after enduring a litany of familiar origin-story events (bitten by a nuclear spider, given a magic ring, shot by cosmic rays). "Alright, already," he exclaims to the heavens, "I won't be a chef." Mostly, Pekar has assembled a charming lineup heavy on earnest, almost journalistic graphic storytellers. Jesse Reklaw's "Thirteen Cats of My Childhood" is well-named, with its family dramas skulking behind funny-sad cat stories. Sacco reports from Iraq with deadly seriousness. David Heatley dissects his relationship with his dad in tiny interlocking boxes. Illustrated with varying degrees of ambition and realism, these stories are united only by their intriguing worldviews and the truth that you probably would not have read them if it wasn't for this collection. Which, you know, duh.

—Patrick Rapa

House of Gifts
The Living Room
The Kitchen
The Bed & Bath
The Closet
The Office
The Kid's Room
The Garage
Pets
Holy Extravagance!
Living in a Box
Music Boxed Sets