Literary

Terryworld

Taschen

This is a good time for the world of Terrypublishing. Some weirdo Italians just printed a gigantic black book called Kibosh that contains the raunchiest porn shit you've ever seen and sells in a black plastic bag for a mere $400.

Simultaneously, Taschen has put out Terryworld, a significantly less raunchy book that covers his entire body of work. There's the junkie days, the clean days, the poor days, and the Gucci days, all encapsulated in one big funny party with gigantic tits and ejaculating cocks. The intro I did with Purple's Oliver Zahn is pretty good too.

GAVIN MCINNES

Richard Prince

Nurse Paintings

Barbara Gladstone Gallery

Here is what happens when someone tells an artist that his every fart is enthralling. Three or five pulp-novel nurse paintings kind of based on Kate Moss would be cool. But an entire book of them? More overkill than Starlight Express. And I usually love Richard Prince, too.

EDDIE LUNCHPAIL

Richard Prince

Women

Regen Projects

And here is why I usually love Richard Prince. This book is a huge, towering home run over the artist's own id. A book-length scrapbook of every permutation of "woman" that runs around in Prince's mind. Weathered photos of biker mamas, Slits album covers, pretty corn-fed girls in Richard Prince's own "joke painting" T-shirts, and even photos of stacks of trashy and awesome novels by women. This book is like a style guide for how to be a cool girl.

EDDIE LUNCHPAIL

Vanessa Beecroft

Hatje Kantz Publishers

An overrated and pretentious artist, but this book is fun to own because you can compare and contrast all the different labia and boobs in it for hours without getting bored.

LES B. ANN

Too Fast for Love: Heavy Metal Portraits

David Yellen

powerHouse Books

Fuck this book. Fuck this bullshit, vampiric piggyback-ride on the backs of heavy-metal fans. And don't believe any rationales you hear this guy spew about having a genuine appreciation for this culture. He might have even convinced himself that his motivations were non-patronizing, but we know the truth. This book is made for snooty assholes to look at together so they can laugh at the funny haircuts, leathery skin, and fully fine recreational activities of a bunch of people with less money who could kick the living shit out of them. Which they should have done to Yellen while he was interloping on their scene and taking pictures of them like a Nazi eugenics collector. And then, as if it couldn't get more vomitous, Chuck Klosterman writes the intro. What the publishers overlooked there is that Klosterman sucks harder than any of the music writers he thinks he is in lineage from. (Yes, even fucking Lester Bangs—he was bullshit, too.)

JESE PEARSON

The Wilco Book

Picturebox, Inc.

Did you ever see that Wilco movie? It's funny. Like "ha-ha" funny, because Jeff Tweedy frets around and avoids people and acts all squirrelly like he's Dylan. It's like a comedy sketch about Don't Look Back. Except they didn't mean it as a joke. This guy really does the whole tortured-genius thing to the nth degree. But Jeff, you are not a genius. You're just pretty OK. Wilco is a step above mediocre—why can't anybody see that?

Even so, this book is a nice little guilty pleasure. It is just as self-indulgent as anything these guys have ever done, but it's so earnest that you kind of don't mind. There are photo essays on their practice space and all the stuff in it and on playing a show. The photos are beautiful. Then, for some unknown tortured-genius reason, there are a bunch of paintings by Fred Tomaselli accompanied by a text by Henry Miller. Guess Tweedy likes Henry Miller and wants everyone to know it. I remember liking Henry Miller in high school and talking about it to get laid (smart cheerleaders really liked the whole Henry Miller spiel).

JERRY MCPHEERSON

Trucker Fags in Denial

Jim Blanchard and Jim Goad

Fantagraphics Books

This is the heartrending story, in comic book form, of two long-distance haulers named Butch and Petey. They hate fags. Until they end up banging the shit out of each other in a motel room one night. Then they hate them even more. Then they fuck some more. Then they reach an understanding. I don't want to give away the end, but the story (by new Vice contributor Jim Goad) is well worth the $3.95. I personally think that a tiny little fag lives inside all of us.

TIERNEY WILLIAMS

Fall 2004 1

Brendan Fowler

A new zine from the man otherwise known as motivational rapper BARR. This one is a comp of photos of cool kids doing cool things, looking cool. However, it was made in an openhearted and inclusive way, which makes all the difference and turns this into a pleasant and intriguing experience, not a scenester cluster-fuck. Also contains conversations between Fowler and Wynne (of Tracy + The Plastics) and a young artist named Rafael Rozendaal. Brendan interviews well, revealing a lot about himself as he draws smart answers out of these two smart people. Thank God people are still making zines like this. I hope Brendan is making zines when he's 70. (Get this by writing to

barr@barrbarr.com

.)

VERNER PANTONE

Ana Mendieta

Earth Body

Hirshhorn Museum, Smithsonian Institution

Mendieta was a famous artist until her mysterious death in 1985 (she fell from a window—some suspect she was pushed by her husband, the artist Carl Andre). Her work was extremely physical—like making countless spectral outlines of bodies in sand, grass, snow, dirt, and rocks. She did this cool piece where she stood against a wall naked and held a chicken (that had just had its head lopped off) by the feet as it jerked and died and sprayed blood everywhere. Pretty fucking punk. This is a copiously illustrated retrospective of a book, heavy with texts and information, and I am starting to get the feeling that understanding Mendieta and her life and work might make me a better person. On the other hand, maybe I'm just PMSing. Either way, this woman was a bona fide genius, her death was a tragedy, and this book will look really cool on your coffee table.

ANGEL NELFI