Before North Dakota obtained statehood and entered the Union as a dry state, the region's commercial beer industry thrived. A lengthy era of temperance forced locals to find clever ways to get a beer, such as crossing the Montana and Minnesota borders for a pint, smuggling beer over the rails and brewing at home. After Prohibition, the state's farmers became national leaders in malting barley production, serving the biggest brewers in the world. However, local breweries struggled until 1995, when the first wave of brewpubs arrived on the scene. A craft brewing renaissance this century led to an explosion of more than a dozen craft breweries and brewpubs in less than a decade. Alicia Underlee Nelson recounts North Dakota's journey from a dry state to a booming craft beer hub.

Before North Dakota obtained statehood and entered the Union as a dry state, the region's commercial beer industry thrived. A lengthy era of temperance forced locals to find clever ways to get a beer, such as crossing the Montana and Minnesota borders for a pint, smuggling beer over the rails and brewing at home. After Prohibition, the state's farmers became national leaders in malting barley production, serving the biggest brewers in the world. However, local breweries struggled until 1995, when the first wave of brewpubs arrived on the scene. A craft brewing renaissance this century led to an explosion of more than a dozen craft breweries and brewpubs in less than a decade. Alicia Underlee Nelson recounts North Dakota's journey from a dry state to a booming craft beer hub.

South Dakota has always had an intermittent relationship with prohibition. Constantly changing legislation kept citizens, saloonkeepers, bootleggers and other scofflaws on tenterhooks, wondering what might come next. The scandalous indiscretions of the lethal Verne Miller and the contributions of "agents of change" like Senators Norbeck and Senn kept ne'er-do-wells on edge. In 1927, the double murder of prohibition officers near Redfield dominated headlines. From the Black Hills stills of Bert Miller to the Sioux Falls moonshine outfit buried under Lon Vaught's chicken house, uncork these oft-overlooked and tumultuous eighteen years in state history. In the first book of its kind, award-winning journalist Chuck Cecil delivers the boisterous details of an intoxicating era.

The year is 1983, and Chuck Klosterman just wants to rock. But he's got problems. For one, he's in the fifth grade. For another, he lives in rural North Dakota. Worst of all, his parents aren't exactly down with the long hairstyle which rocking requires. Luckily, his brother saves the day when he brings home a bit of manna from metal heaven, SHOUT AT THE DEVIL, Motley Crue's seminal paean to hair-band excess. And so Klosterman's twisted odyssey begins, a journey spent worshipping at the heavy metal altar of Poison, Lita Ford and Guns N' Roses. In the hilarious, young-man-growing-up-with-a-soundtrack-tradition, FARGO ROCK CITY chronicles Klosterman's formative years through the lens of heavy metal, the irony-deficient genre that, for better or worse, dominated the pop charts throughout the 1980s. For readers of Dave Eggers, Lester Bangs, and Nick Hornby, Klosterman delivers all the goods: from his first dance (with a girl) and his eye-opening trip to Mandan with the debate team; to his list of 'essential' albums; and his thoughtful analysis of the similarities between Guns 'n' Roses' 'Lies' and the gospels of the New Testament.