Literary

Ego Trip's Big Book of Racism

A Cometbus Omnibus Aaron Cometbus is the Woody Guthrie of punk zines, hands fucking down. He is also one of the most inspirational, uncompromising, elusive, heartbreaking, and funny writers ever—in or out of the underground. When a new issue of Cometbus appears, it’s like Christmas morning when you’re six. The only bad thing is, Aaron is basically a hobo. You never know where he is or when he’ll pop up. Add to this the fact that Cometbus sells out faster than something that sells out really fast, and you’ll understand why this book is a public service on par with curing cancer. This should be on the syllabus of all high-school English classes. JESSE PEARSON We're Desperate: The Punk Rock Photography of Jim Jocoy

Text by Marc Jacobs, Exene Cervenka, and Thurston Moore Who Shot Ya?: Three Decades of Hip-Hop Photography

Photos by Ernie Paniccioli, text by Kevin Powell Both of these are great for style biting. Androgynous girl rocking the bullet belt is really fly. But bullet belts might be in poor taste these days. Black leather motorcycle jackets were and always will be dumb. And I didn’t realize cowboy boots were such a punk rock must-have. Lots of color risks here, but that’s good. Wait, how come everyone in this book looks so old, when they’re probably only in their 20s? None of them are hot. Weird. Hotter subjects in the hip hop book, but same color risks. Also, better use of $100 bills as pasties. But the guys are way more boring. And it totally went over my head when I was a little kid that Butterfly from the Digable Planets is kind of, uh, butch. JANE KIM Painful But Fabulous: The Lives and Art of Genesis P-Orridge

This book isn’t really about any Throbbing Gristle or Psychic TV stuff. It’s a bunch of photos of Genesis’ visual art—including a German shepherd tattoo he has at the base of his penis, which is pierced numerous times; a fanged-pussy tote bag; a performance piece where he dressed up as a transsexual Hitler; several performances where he wrapped himself in plastic, tree branches, wire, and corsets; homemade postcards of Queen Elizabeth that apparently really pissed her off back in the day; and about a million collages of genitals and asses. And the book’s got lots of essays on the nature of artistic creation that put me to sleep. Which reminds me—I love that Psychic TV album Dreams Less Sweet. MADDY PEISTRUP