Maryland's Motion Picture Theaters
by Robert K. Headley



Another book from the series I don't like yet whose books sometimes catch my attention with their covers. This time, it's also the subject matter: old movie theatres are awesome. I wouldn't want to be in one, with its dirty, sticky floor, annoying babies, and loud enthnic minorities, but, boy, looking at one in a book sure brings back memories I wish I had had.

New Protective State: Government, Intelligence and Terrorism
by Peter Hennessy



I don't have a real clue what this is about. But the title sounds provocative, yet educational and balanced; and the cover has that rare blend of blue, green, and purple against a black background that has my aesthetic senses tingling.

Newton as Philosopher
by Andrew Janiak



Did you know that every time you learn something about Newton, Newton learns something equal but opposite about you? It's one of the basic laws of learning. I think the other one is that the bigger the book, the less people will want to read it. Like gravity, but not.

The Liberal Hour: Washington and the Politics of Change in the 1960s
by G. Calvin Mackenzie and Robert Weisbrot



I hate hippies, and this book really puts them in their place (a Northern California commune where they live in European minivans that stand on concrete slabs and sing protest songs to each other while soaking up the sun and developing skin cancer). The authors argue that despite all their peace, love, and flower-power, it was really the American government that was responsible for liberal change in the 60s. The government just didn't dress in colours, smoke pot, or make a huge fuss around itself; so, naturally, we never suspected.

Freud's Drive: Psychoanalysis, Literature and Film
by Teresa De Lauretis



According to the description, the author makes "a bold and orginal argument for the renewed relevance of the Freudian theory of drives, through close readings of texts ranging from cinema and literature to psychoanalysis and cultural theory". Maybe we all need a resurrection of Freudian analysis, because even when it's way off, it's still way entertaining. But only maybe. It's also possible Freud is just burnt out these days.

Queering Bunuel: Sexual Dissidence and Psychoanalysis in his Mexican and Spanish Cinema
by Julian Daniel Gutierrez-Albilla



Even if it's awful, pretentious, and unreadable, at least you might watch a Bunuel film as a result. And that, my friends, is a win for humanity (and Bunuel, posthumously). Plus, there hasn't been a good Bunuel book out in a while, has there?

Empires, Wars, and Battles: The Middle East from Antiquity to the Rise of the New World
by T. C. F. Hopkins



I highly doubt this 256-page "history" of "the Middle East" is "worth" even the "$10" they're "asking" for it. But I've been known to be wrong before (once, in third grade: my favourite colour was orange, though I didn't know it at the time) so anything is possible. I'm sure it's better than reading nothing and knowing nothing.

The Monuments of Afghanistan: History, Archaeology and Architecture
by Warwick Ball



Says a review: "Afghanistan is not just an Asian state that has suddenly hit the news". Maybe not, but that's the reason books about it are being published. Bunch of bloodsuckers. Doesn't mean the books are all bad, though. Just most of them.

American Ascendance and British Retreat in the Persian Gulf Region
by W. Taylor Fain



Post-WWII dealings in the trouble area between the two English-speaking powers. I'd skip this book, because it has nothing to do with what's going on in the world today. Go read a Tom Clancy novel, instead; and learn about how much Tom loves big, black guns. Mmm: so big, so black.

Why You Should Read Kafka Before You Waste Your Life
by James Hawes



If you can't read Kafka, you might as well read about Kafka. And you might as well read that "Franz Kafka was a popular and well-connected millionaire’s son who enjoyed good-time girls, brothels, and expensive porn, who landed a highly desirable state job that pulled in at least $90,000 a year in today’s dollars for a six-hour day, who remained a loyal member of Prague’s German-speaking Imperial elite right to the end, and whose work was backed by a powerful literary clique". I think this is fiction but I'm not sure.