Lileks delivers a jaw-dropping retrospective of the worst of the worst rec rooms, dens, bedrooms, and other interior spaces of homes in the years when shag rugs ruled. Everything here is straight out of the pages of 1970s interior design magazines, books, and other supposed arbiters of style and taste.176 pp.

Presents photographs, illustrations, food ads, recipes, and culinary miscellany from the 1950s and 1960s with commentary on an array of the "best of the worst" dishes from the period.

Democratic in intention and approach, the book will argue that the home interior, as independently created by the ‘amateur’ householder, offers a continuous informal critique of shifting architectural styles (most notably with the advent of Modernism) and the design mainstream. Indeed, it will suggest that the popular increasingly exerts an influence on the professional. Underpinned by academic rigour, but not in thrall to it, above all this book is an engaging attempt to identify the cultural drivers of aesthetic change in the home, extrapolating the wider influence of ‘taste’ to a broad audience – both professional and ‘trade’. In so doing, it will explore enthralling territory – money, class, power and influence. Illustrated with contemporary drawings and cartoons as well as photos, the book will not only be an absorbing read, but an enticing and attractive object in itself.

Recipes and food photography from the 1940s, '50s, and '60s assembled with humorous commentary.

How have architecture and design been represented in popular culture? How do these fictional reflections feed back into and influence 'the real world'? Archi.Pop: Architecture and Design in Popular Culture offers the first contemporary critical overview of this diverse and intriguing relationship in cultural forms including television, cinema, iconic buildings and everyday interiors, music and magazines. Bringing the study of architecture and culture firmly to the contemporary world, Archi.Pop offers a unique critical investigation into how this dynamic relationship has shaped the way we live and the way we interact with the constructed world around us.

From satirist Lileks comes a hilarious collection of questionable childcare tips from a bygone era.

The 1940s marked a period of transition in interior design: the quarrel between ancient and modern was outdated, the combination of function and art was essential, and interior designers were more focused on new creations rather than on post-war reconstruction. The style of this period exhibits all the contradictions that arise from a society that was in a general state of shock, unsure of what the future would hold. Exemplary cabinet making marks the period, featuring famous names like T.H. Robsjohn-Gibbing and George Nelson from the United States. In France, Adnet, Arbus, Dominique, Kohlmann, Jallot, and Leleu produced sumptuous ensembles, with beautiful detailing. "Furniture and Interiors of the 1940s" features the work of numerous designers in 300 archival images and recent color photographs that shed new light on this transitional period in design, as it evolved both in Europe and in the United States.

Diversity has always been central to Alaska identity, as the state’s population consists of people with many different backgrounds, viewpoints, and life experiences. This book opens a window into these diverse lives, gathering stories and poems about lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer life into a brilliant, path-breaking anthology. In these pages we see the panoply of LGBTQ life in Alaska today, from the quotidian urban adventures of a family—shopping, going out, working—to intimate encounters with Alaska’s breathtaking natural beauty. At a time of great change and major strides in LGBTQ civil rights, Building Fires in the Snow shows us an Alaska that shatters stereotypes and reveals a side of Alaska that’s been little seen until now.

It is the year 4022; all of the ancient country of Usa has been buried under many feet of detritus from a catastrophe that occurred back in 1985. Imagine, then, the excitement that Howard Carson, an amateur archeologist at best, experienced when in crossing the perimeter of an abandoned excavation site he felt the ground give way beneath him and found himself at the bottom of a shaft, which, judging from the DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from an archaic doorknob, was clearly the entrance to a still-sealed burial chamber. Carson's incredible discoveries, including the remains of two bodies, one of then on a ceremonial bed facing an altar that appeared to be a means of communicating with the Gods and the other lying in a porcelain sarcophagus in the Inner Chamber, permitted him to piece together the whole fabric of that extraordinary civilization.