"Gage Wallace's day seemingly couldn't get any worse. After breaking up with his girlfriend, he finds himself framed for blowing up his apartment building -- the latest in a string of deadly bombings in this doomed suburb. After the neighboring Fat City fell into the river during an earthquake, these hapless exurbanites have been waiting for their own town to sink. The only glimmer of hope is a talking rat, whose drunken ramblings are taken as the prophecy of a better time ahead. Now Gage finds himself being pursued by well-intentioned friends, bored cops, and the bloodthirsty Bald Suzie, a local firearms enthusiast whose brother was killed in a recent explosion" -- from publisher's web site.
This book explores the role of the ideology of nature in producing urban and exurban sprawl. It examines the ironies of residential development on the metropolitan fringe, where the search for “nature” brings residents deeper into the world from which they are imagining their escape—of Federal Express, technologically mediated communications, global supply chains, and the anonymity of the global marketplace—and where many of the central features of exurbia—very low-density residential land use, monster homes, and conversion of forested or rural land for housing—contribute to the very problems that the social and environmental aesthetic of exurbia attempts to avoid. The volume shows how this contradiction—to live in the green landscape, and to protect the green landscape from urbanization—gets caught up and represented in the ideology of nature, and how this ideology, in turn, constitutes and is constituted by the landscapes being urbanized.
This book is about politics and planning outside of cities, where urban political economy and planning theories do not account for the resilience of places that are no longer rural and where local communities work hard to keep from ever becoming urban. By examining exurbia as a type of place that is no longer simply rural or only tied to the economies of global resources (e.g., mining, forestry, and agriculture), we explore how changing landscapes are planned and designed not to be urban, that is, to look, function, and feel different from cities and suburbs in spite of new home development and real estate speculation. The book’s authors contend that exurbia is defined by the persistence of rural economies, the conservation of rural character, and protection of natural ecological systems, all of which are critical components of the contentious local politics that seek to limit growth. Comparative political ecology is used as an organizing concept throughout the book to describe the nature of exurban areas in the U.S. and Australia, although exurbs are common to many countries. The essays each describe distinctive case studies, with each chapter using the key concepts of competing rural capitalisms and uneven environmental management to describe the politics of exurban change. This systematic analysis makes the processes of exurban change easier to see and understand. Based on these case studies, seven characteristics of exurban places are identified: rural character, access, local economic change, ideologies of nature, changes in land management, coalition-building, and land-use planning. This book will be of interest to those who study planning, conservation, and land development issues, especially in areas of high natural amenity or environmental value. There is no political ecology book quite like this—neither one solely focused on cases from the developed world (in this case the United States and Australia), nor one that specifically harnesses different case studies from multiple areas to develop a central organizing perspective of landscape change.
The suburbs have become too liberal and diverse for many white American conservatives, so “exurbia”—areas outside the cities and their suburbs—are becoming the staging ground for the radical right extremist insurgency . . . Beyond a fanatical devotion to former president Donald Trump, one of the curious things that united the rank and file of the January 6 insurrectionist mob was that many of them were residents of one of America’s fastest growing residential areas: Exurbia. Home to the likes of Georgia’s Marjorie Taylor Greene, Ohio’s Jim Jordan, big box retailers, chain restaurants, monster trucks, and megachurches, exurbia is becoming America’s greatest political battleground, more important to American politics than urban or rural America. In this brilliant work of political and cultural inquiry, veteran political journalist David Masciotra provides a definitive account of what exurbia is, how it came to be, and how it's transforming American life. Zooming in outside the greater metropolitan area of Chicago—where Masciotra grew up—he shows how exurbia has become a safe space to fly the MAGA flag and romanticize the mores of the pre-civil rights, pre-feminist, pre-gay rights 1950s. But, as Masciotra also shows, reactionary white flight is not the whole story of small-town America. The story often lost is the power and persistence of small-town liberals—people who believe in equality, celebrate diversity, and enroll in movements for justice. Exurbia, as it turns out, is ground zero for the fight over a democracy mightily beleaguered, yet still full of promise, and still worth fighting for. Combining interviews, research, and anecdote—and anchored in personal experience—Exurbia Now delivers a powerful ballad on the state of small-town America, and provides a sense of the fight for democracy, on the ground, in the heartland.
The Galactic Human Empire was built atop four sciences: logic, physics, psychology, and sociology. Standing on those pillars, humans spent 100,000 years spreading out into the galaxy: warring, exploring, partying -- the usual. Then there was the fifth science. And that killed the empire stone dead. The Fifth Science is a collection of 12 stories, beginning at the start of the Galactic Human Empire and following right through to its final days. We'll see some untypical things along the way, meet some untypical folk: galactic lighthouses from the distant future, alien tombs from the distant past, murderers, emperors, archaeologists and drunks; mad mathematicians attempting to wake the universe itself up.And when humans have fallen back into savagery, when the secrets of space folding and perfect wisdom are forgotten, we'll attend the empire's deathbed, hold its hand as it goes. Unfortunately that may well only be the beginning.
All of time is simultaneous. Matter tends towards perfection. Cats can be dicks sometimes. The Prince of Milk is a leisurely stroll from prehistory to the distant future, stopping for tea in the 21st century English countryside. Before the time machine, before the undead mannequins, before the cat with the universe eye, there were the arbiters. They regulated the world and kept reality from banging into itself. All was well in paradise. But even the gods end up in love triangles from time to time. Several galaxies and a dimension away, Wilthail is a small English village alternating between flower shows and the occasional divorce. Life ambles. Old men and women make peace with their gods. Little do they know three deities walk among them already, biding their time before an ancient grudge rears its head. The world is a garden. The world is a gutter. Which is it? PRAISE FOR THE PRINCE OF MILK: "Please stop contacting me. I'm not going to read your book." - Exurb1a's mother "Sorry, I don't like science fiction." - Woman on the bus "Is that you again? Look, we've talked about this." - Exurb1a's mother
A compelling and clear-eyed novel about teenagers living in the margins of Reagan's America Los Angeles, 1985: Reagan is a few months into his second term, and the economy is booming; but the increasing stand-off between the superpowers threatens to wipe out the world, AIDS is a growing epidemic, and 50% of marriages end in divorce. Ed Valencia is 17 and he and his crew, the Rats, are marked by their mohawks as troublemakers—but it's the punk scene that has given them ideals, beliefs, and a grasp of a world beyond Yum Yum Donuts and TV reruns. Lise Anderson is 13, and desperate to be cool. She loves the mall, hot pink lipstick, and dangerous-looking boys, but her girlfriends seem to be privy to secrets—about fashion, about sex—that no one will tell her. And then there is Voyd, at 14 a frontline warrior for the revolutionary right. While his parents jet across the country, Voyd, alone in a house filled with everything he wants and not one thing he needs, has devoted himself to the cause of keeping the nation white. This is the story of three lost souls and the ultimately violent collision of their lives. In haunting, angry, and beautiful prose, Molly McGrann explores the margins of 1980s America, and asks questions not only about where we are going, but about how we got here in the first place.
A leading civil rights historian places Robert Kennedy for the first time at the center of the movement for racial justice of the 1960sÑand shows how many of todayÕs issues can be traced back to that pivotal time. History, race, and politics converged in the 1960s in ways that indelibly changed America. In Justice Rising, a landmark reconsideration of Robert KennedyÕs life and legacy, Patricia Sullivan draws on government files, personal papers, and oral interviews to reveal how he grasped the moment to emerge as a transformational leader. When protests broke out across the South, the young attorney general confronted escalating demands for racial justice. What began as a political problem soon became a moral one. In the face of vehement pushback from Southern Democrats bent on massive resistance, he put the weight of the federal government behind school desegregation and voter registration. Bobby KennedyÕs youthful energy, moral vision, and capacity to lead created a momentum for change. He helped shape the 1964 Civil Rights Act but knew no law would end racism. When the Watts uprising brought calls for more aggressive policing, he pushed back, pointing to the root causes of urban unrest: entrenched poverty, substandard schools, and few job opportunities. RFK strongly opposed the military buildup in Vietnam, but nothing was more important to him than Òthe revolution within our gates, the struggle of the American Negro for full equality and full freedom.Ó On the night of Martin Luther KingÕs assassination, KennedyÕs anguished appeal captured the hopes of a turbulent decade: ÒIn this difficult time for the United States it is perhaps well to ask what kind of nation we are and what direction we want to move in.Ó It is a question that remains urgent and unanswered.
