1. Inside Apple: How America's Most Admired—and Secretive—Company Really Works, by Adam Lashinsky.
A confidante of mine won a 32 GB iPad 1 at work last year. We kept it around the house for a few weeks, not sure what to do with it. Then, we figured out how to play "Words with Friends." We played that on and off for a few months, then put the iPad on, ironically, the bookshelf, and forgot about it. Then, last week, I took the iPad off of the bookshelf and sold it to someone on eBay who inexplicably paid $360 for it, plus $20 for shipping. This isn't the future I imagined in 1982, the year I turned five, when I thought about 2012, the year I hopefullly will turn 35. Back then, I thought there would be space travel, time travel, and flying cars. Instead, there's Facebook, Twitter, and tablet computers that become trash three years after their release. Awesome.

2. Into the Garden with Charles, by Clyde Phillip Wachsberger.
This book's about a repressed gay guy who finds love with another gay guy partially because, I think, they share a love of gardening. That's heartwarming, poignant, moving, and really, really, really gay.

3. Life Sentences: Literary Judgments and Accounts, by William H. Gass.
I once read Carpenter's Gothic by William Gass, and it required endurance. Real reading endurance. The kind of reading endurance you develop perched on the toilet with a copy of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations or Karl Marx's Capital perched on your goose-bumped lap. The kind of reading endurance you develop struggling with Nietzsche and Schopenhauer and Jeremy Bentham in your college dormitory after everyone else has taken special K and passed out for the night. The kind of reading endurance you develop plowing every Stephen King book (yes, even Danse Macabre). Was it worth it? Was all that time spent reading just wasted? Are the books that fill the bookshelves of my house just future garbage? Who am I? Why am I here and where am I going?

4. The Great American Cereal Book: How Breakfast Got Its Crunch, by Martin Gitlin and Topher Ellis.
If Cinnamon Toast Crunch isn't represented here, it's a crime.

5. Vicky Swanky Is a Beauty, by Diane Williams.
This short story collection has a very cool cover.

The show flyer isn't quite a dead medium yet.

You still see some flyers taped to the bases of streetlights around town, and piled inside the Black Cat. But you could hardly call the flyer the dominant method for spreading the word about underground rock shows these days. That'd be Facebook.

Local author and journalist Willona Sloan aims to recapture the cut-and-pasted, photocopied past in a new ebook, Come to Our Show: Punk Show Flyers From D.C. to Down Under.

Sloan became a fan of punk in the early '90s while growing up in Herndon, and she developed an adoration for show flyers. "At the time you only heard about shows through the flyer, so I would save them," she says. Sloan became pretty involved in the punk scene and wanted to find a way to get her own voice out there. She wrote a letter to Al Quint, the editor of the zine Suburban Voice, who suggested she start her own fanzine.

In the late '90s, Sloan launched the zine Scorpion. "It was punk, it was feminist, it was anti-racist," she says. Sloan published everything from record reviews to collections of art—typical punk zine fare on the surface, but all of it channeled through the perspective of a young, African-American female. "Being an African-American, I wanted to represent people of color," she says. "So I started asking people in other countries to send me their flyers and to send me their fanzines too." Sloan used Book Your Own Fuckin' Life—Maximum Rock 'N' Roll's DIY directory—to reach out to like-minded punks around the world.

Sloan published Scorpion when she could, but she wanted to do something bigger with some of the mail she received. "I had this idea I wanted to do this huge flyer book," she says. But she stopped making Scorpion in 2001 and put the flyer book on hold to focus on writing a novel. (The finished, unsold manuscript is still under her bed.) But she'd collected flyers and letters from Peru, Israel, Singapore, New Zealand, South Africa, and Chile, and eventually revisited them. "I really wanted to do something with them and I started scanning them a few months ago," she says.

On Saturday, Sloan released Come to Our Show as a free download from on blog, DC Scorpion Girl. The 87-page ebook includes flyers from the last several decades, and has a large selection highlighting D.C. punk gigs and benefit shows. (Positive Force's Mark Andersen gave Sloan a large number of flyers.) Following a short intro from Sloan, there's hardly any text in the book—one reason is Sloan didn't want to misidentify some of the more specific locations on the flyers. She says she also wanted them to stand on their own as works of art. It's easy to see the meticulous work, love, and care that went into making the flyers, whatever their backstories are. (Los Crudos singer Martin Sorrondeguy shared some of his collection to Sloan, but asked she not copy the back sides of the flyers, as some them contained personal letters.)

Come to Our Show has caught on in the short amount of time it's been online, thanks to coverage in places like Maximum Rock 'N' Roll and The Daily Swarm: Sloan says that 600 people downloaded the book on Tuesday night alone, and that she hopes it plants the idea in other's heads. "I'm not trying to own punk flyers," she says. "We all have scanners and we all have Internet. I want people to share them."

1. The Electric Information Age Book: McLuhan/Agel/Fiore and the Experimental Paperback, by Jeffrey Schnapp and Adam Michaels
Though its cover is hard to look at, this apparently otherwise well-designed title comes from your friends at the always surprising Princeton Architectural Press, where books are lovingly presented like the pristine, indispensible objects of commodity fetishism they are. Ironically, The Electric Information Age Book pays tribute to the disposable paperback. But isn't irony fundamental to the architecture of Rem Koolhaus, Frank Gehry, and even Le Corbusier and, yes, Frank Lloyd Wright?

2. The End of War, by John Horgan
This book dares to suggest that human beings are not designed to destroy one another. Someone should probably alert Benjamin Netanyahu, Hamas, President Obama, Al-Qaeda, Kim Jong-Un, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Castros, the Republican and Democratic parties, and Metallica.

3. Fairness and Freedom: A History of Two Open Societies: New Zealand and the United States, by David Hackett Fischer
New Zealand always seemed like a great place to have and/or recover from a nervous breakdown. It's an island. It's green. There are lots of sheep. The surfing is great. Water flows down the drain clockwise (or is it counter clockwise?). People seem to drink a lot, but still feel good about themselves. Peter Jackson is from there. So is Charlize Theron. No, wait—Charlize Theron is from South Africa, which seems like a terrible place to have a nervous breakdown.

4. The Titanic For Dummies, by Stephen J. Spignesi
Fair warning: No entries for either "Dicaprio, Leonardo" or "Winslet, Kate" in the index.

5. Glaciers, by Alexis Smith
This depressing-sounding novel is about a woman with a fondness for thrift store-shopping has been compared to Virginia Woolf, which is either a plus or a red flag depending on your opinion of To the Lighthouse. My father, for example, talks about To the Lighthouse as if it's the Superbowl of modern literature. I don't share this opinion; for me, To the Lighthouse is more like a scrimmage game where your star QB, who was a first-round draft pick, gets sacked in the third quarter, tears his ACL, and ends up on the bench for the whole season. (The problem with comparing the NFL to modern literature: I know nothing about professional football. Do quarterbacks even tear their ACLs? And what is an ACL, anyway?)

1. Screw Business As Usual, by Richard Branson.
At first, I thought this book by Virgin chairman Richard Branson was called "Screw: Business As Usual," and was about either his cutthroat entrepreneurial instincts, or sexual proclivities, or both. Then, I thought it was called "Screw Business: As Usual," and was about Richard Branson, the fun-loving goof who, when not running Virgin, founded the Virgin Mobile FreeFest. Now that I know that it's called "Screw Business As Usual"—no colons—I'm not sure what to say or think about it.

2. The Orphan Master's Son: A Novel of North Korea, by Adam Johnson.
I like reading books about the DPRK, including James Church's "Inspector O" series. I also wrote a short story once that was just a series of letters from a young Jewish boy growing up in Northeast Philadelphia to Kim Jong-Il. The boy asked what he had to do to succeed Kim as leader of North Korea, and described life on Cottman Ave. to humorous effect. Then, Kim Jong-Il died and was succeeded by his son Kim Jong-un, rendering the conceit of my short story moot, and the short story unpublishable. Maybe this sounds funny, but it is actually quite frustrating. I spent six months on and off on that story, and now it's basically dogfood. Such is the difficult life of an artist.

3. Tiny Homes: Simple Shelter, by Lloyd Kahn.
This book says that houses are too big and should be tinier and simpler, and is a collection of pictures of simple, tiny houses. Great for reading in your McMansion while smoking a cigar and laughing maniacally.

4. The Mormon People: The Making of an American Faith, by Matthew Bowman.
People always said that Low was a great band, and that they were Mormon, but I never really liked Low much, so I didn't investigate further. People also said that Big Love was a great show, and that it was about Mormons, but I watched a few episodes and didn't like Big Love much, so I didn't investigate further. Under the Banner of Heaven is a cool book about Mormons by that dude who also wrote the cool book about people dying while climbing Mt. Everest. Then, he wrote a book about NFL star turned Afghanistan casualty Pat Tillman, which didn't seem interesting, so I didn't investigate further.

5. The Flame Alphabet, by Ben Marcus.
This book's about some kind of terrible epidemic that causes parents to be killed by the voices of their children—like the opposite of the Van Halen "Hot for Teacher" video in which the nerdy kid "Waldo" with the glasses is overcome by the hotness of his teacher. Well...sort of like the opposite.

1. Squier Electrics: 30 Years of Fenders Budget Guitar Brand, by Tony Bacon
"Dude, wanna come over my house after school and play guitar?" "I don't know. We have a calculus midterm tomorrow." "Come on, dude, don't be a p*ssy." "I don't know man, I haven't really studied enough. I'm getting a A this quarter, but I got a B last quarter, so I have to get an A on the midterm to get an A for the semester." "Bummer. I got a new guitar and wanted to show it to you." "Really? What kind of a new guitar?" "A Fender Squier. The dude at Zapf's on Fifth Street said it's just like a Fender Stratocaster, only cheaper." "Really? I don't believe it." "Well, why don't you come on over after school and find out?" "Can we work on that cover of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'?" "I guess." "You're on."

2. Contrarian Investment Strategies: The Psychological Edge, by David Dreman
"Dude, you really have got to buy some AOL stock." "I don't know, man. It seems totally overpriced." "No, man. I'm telling you—with this Internet sh*t, you can't lose." "I don't know. I mean, I just graduated college and don't make a lot of money. The world seems like a really uncertain place. Who knows if Al Gore will even win the election this fall?" "It doesn't matter who's in Washington, man. We're looking at 10 more years of peace and prosperity." "Don't you think this dot-com stuff seems like a bubble?" "What's a bubble?"

3. Why We Broke Up, by Daniel Handler, illustrated by Maira Kalman
"Did you break up with your girlfriend?" "Yeah." "Sorry, dude. I thought that was gonna last." "Well..." "Try giving her this book for the holidays. This chick from the New Yorker illustrated it." "Do you think it will convince her to take me back?" "Probably not."

4. Vicky Swanky is a Beauty, by Diane Williams
"What's this new novel from McSweeneys about?" "Who the f*ck knows? They're always publishing the most random sh*t." "Yeah, I know. I was a member of the book club for awhile, and one month they sent me a portfolio of Dave Eggers' drawings." "Was it cool?" "I guess." "Weird. Well, should I buy this novel or what?" "It's always nice to support a small, cool publishing house." "But then again, on the other hand, this book might suck." "Yeah, but don't most books?"

5. The Tender Hour of Twilight: Paris in the '50s, New York in the '60s: A Memoir of Publishing's Golden Age, by Richard Seaver
"Do you remember that time?" "Which time?" "The time before now, that was better than now." "Do you mean the 19-teens, the 1920s, the 1930s, the 1940s, the 1950s, the 1960s, the 1970s, the 1980s, the 1990s, or the aughties?" "All of them."

1. Distrust That Particular Flavor, by William Gibson.
I'm not sure who William Gibson is, but he seems to write syfy-ish novels that appeal to the Philip K. Dick, Boing Boing set. He's written this book of essays—his first, I think—that imagine a cyber-friendly future, I think, or maybe a cyber-dystopia. Real Matrix-type stuff. He's also reading at Politics and Prose on Monday, Jan 9. Let's meet in the cafe, order same Tazo teas, then find out what this dude is all about.

2. The Zen of Steve Jobs, by Caleb Melby.

Another paean to the man in gray jeans who single-handedly destroyed the music, newspaper and book-publishing industries. This one has pictures.

3. Hack's 191: Hack Wilson and His Incredible 1930 Season, by Bill Chastain.
I don't know much about sports, but I do know if a guy named "Hack" had an incredible season in 1930, I want to know a little more about it. Just like I want to know more about The Legend of Bagger Vance because Bagger Vance's name is "Bagger." If that movie, in which Will Smith plays a magical golfing Negro who saves Matt Damon on the links, had been called "The Legend of Steve Vance," I never would have paid to see it in a movie theater in Beloit, Wisc., in 2000.

4. The Complete Walt Disney World 2012, by Julie and Mike Neal.
Maybe you think I'm blithely recommending this book in an ironic way. I'm not—this book is f*cking serious about Walt Disney World in a way that is captivating, terrifying and, if you're planning a visit, actually helpful. This insane couple has written these guides for some time now that describe and rate every ride—yes, every single ride—at Walt Disney World and offer relevant recommendations on what to avoid and what not to miss. The previous edition I read was a revelation—like reading an obsessive-compulsive serial killer's diary, but then realizing that the obsessive-compulsive serial killer's diary was a smart, useful life-hack, or at least better than most books by Paul Auster.

5. The Map and the Territory, by Michel Houellebecq, translated by Gavin Bowd.
I don't know what this novel's about, but it's by a French author who is a major alcoholic Bukowski figure, so that seems fun, especially for all of you out there who stopped drinking on Jan. 1 and haven't yet broken your New Year's resolutions. However, if you made a resolution not to read books by French novelists, this book is definitely not for you.

1. Death Comes to Pemberley, by P.D. James.
This isn't a Jane Austen novel, or a Jane Austen-plus-zombies novel, but a murder-mystery sequel to a Jane Austen novel. In other words, it's fan fiction. When is "Stone Cold" Steve Austen gonna write a WWF-meets-Pride and Prejudice mash-up and get paid?

2. This is a Call: The Life and Times of Dave Grohl, by Paul Brannigan.
I saw Dave Grohl standing outside of the Black Cat once in the early aughts. I was driving past the Black Cat with my bandmate and was, like, "Hey, dude, that's Dave Grohl." And my bandmate was, like, "Stop the car!" I was, like, "I can't stop the car in the middle of the 1800 block of 14th Street NW." And my bandmate was, like, "Dude, don't you know that Dave Grohl was one-third of the band that changed the course of rock-and-roll forever?" And I was, like, "Yeah, I guess you're right." So I pulled the car over on the west side of the 1800 block of 14th Street NW, and my bandmate looked at Dave Grohl, who was still standing in front of the Black Cat on the east side of 14th St. NW, for a few minutes. Then, he said, "OK—we can go now." And we did.

3. That Is All, by John Hodgman.
I think this is some kind of metafictional, postmodern encyclopedia of made-up facts. I know it's not a memoir by Ann Jillian.

4. The Danger Artist, by Wyatt Mason.
Ai Weiwei is a Chinese dissident and artist who courageously stared down forces of repression in his homeland in the name of art; in other words, the perfect gentleman to be profiled by Gentleman's Quarterly in this unique GQ ebook.

5. The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories: Volume 1, curated by Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
Just because Joseph Gordon-Levitt "curated" this melange of art and text doesn't mean it's bad. Then again, just because Joseph Gordon-Levitt curated this melange of art and text doesn't mean it's good. Joseph Gordon-Levitt isn't irrelevant to said melange; because Joseph Gordon-Levitt is attached to the melange, the melange will be paid more attention that it would if, say, the guy who played Vinnie on Doogie Howser, M.D. curated it. Nor is Joseph Gordon-Levitt's impact on said melange limited to publicity; he's the one who made the melange! If it's good, praise him! If it's bad, damn him! If it's mediocre, damn him with faint praise or praise him backhandedly! But don't for one minute think that Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Joseph Gordon-Levittness is the gasoline that makes this melange go. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is, after all, just a man, and it is a man—yes, a mere man!—who makes this melange go. However, in the case of this melange, the man that starred in Third Rock From the Sun and Inception is what would Aristotle or St. Thomas Aquinas would call the prime mover (please excuse the Wikipedia link). But that's not relevant to the melange! Or, at least, not all there is to it ("it" meaning "the melange").

"My Meeting With Mrs. Nixon"/"I Didn’t Meet Her," from Ann Beattie, Mrs. Nixon: A Novelist Imagines a Life. Reviewers have been cranky—if not outright pissed—at Beattie’s book for being a bait-and-switch, as if it promised to shed light on the former First Lady’s life and then failed to. But the book wasn’t never meant to be a biography of Patricia Nixon, just one writer’s study of the inherent compromises and frustrations that come with making up stories about real people. (Maybe a lot of critical frustration could’ve been avoided if the book had been titled Ann Beattie: A Novelist Imagines a Life instead.) In this pair of pieces, Beattie pulls a bait-and-switch of an endearing sort, describing meeting Pat Nixon at Woodies as a child, then revealing that no such meeting happened—in the process laying bare the trusswork of fiction (not to mention a lot of invented memoirs).

"Family Life," from Quim Monzó, Guadalajara. The opening story in the Catalan author’s collection imagines a grotesque ritual among a family in which one finger is severed from a hand on one’s ninth birthday. Armand, the story’s hero, is understandably creeped out by how easygoing everybody is about this: "They aren’t chopping your neck off. It’s only a finger, and not even the most important one at that," a cousin tells him. With perfectly tuned black humor, Monzo allegorizes the chopping (and the anxiety it causes) into a riff on the arbitrariness of tradition.

"The Staying Freight," from Alan Heathcock, Volt. Wrecked by the death of his son, a man wanders the wilderness before falling into a community where he sets himself up to be beaten for entertainment. It’s a brutal act of penance, and Heathcock makes every lash hurt: "That’s my wild man. That’s my rock," his keeper creepily exhorts. In its crazed surreality, the story lays bare a mood of misery that feels real and authentic.

"Tess," from Edith Pearlman, Binocular Vision: New and Selected Stories. A steady if little-known presence in literary magazines for decades, Pearlman writes beautifully about children, who amplify feelings of emotional uncertainty and unfinished-ness. The child in this heartbreaking story is an infant caught in limbo due to a terminal illness, and as the narrative shifts between the hospital counsel and the infant's mother, the story grows thick with moral frustration and emotional pain in just a handful of pages.

Chapter 22, David Foster Wallace, The Pale King. Wallace’s unfinished posthumous novel is so messy that the whole thing is hard to recommend. But there's greatness in The Pale King: You just have to skip ahead to this hundred-page chapter, which stands by itself just fine and chronicles the redemption of Chris Fogle, a directionless man who is saved—truly, with a religious intensity—to be an accountant for the IRS. "I wish to inform you that the accounting profession to which you aspire is, in fact, heroic," Fogle is told, and the miracle of the story is that it convinces you that no statement could be more true.

"We Others," from Steven Millhauser, We Others: New and Selected Stories. The ghost story that anchors this retrospective of Millhauser’s work follows one ghost’s business in granular detail. "Our desire is infused with a darker, more ferocious longing: the desire for all that we have ceased to be," the narrator tells us, stressing the point that his purgatory isn’t dissimilar from our own everyday feelings of disconnection. The passages in first person plural only bolster the creepiness. You’ll be one of us too, that "we" suggests. Just you wait.

1. Draw a Straight Line and Follow It: The Music and Mysticism of La Monte Young, by Jeremy Grimshaw.
Genius minimalist composer La Monte Young spoke at my college in the mid-1990s. Unfortunately, I don't remember what he said because he was wearing a pair of minimalist jeans with huge splits along the seams of the legs, revealing all-too-much of his very un-minimal tookis and, yes, even distracting glimpses of his possibly-minimal junk to any interested parties. After the lecture, a friend commented: "Dude, did I just see La Monte Young's ass?"

2. Dance with Me: Ballroom Dancing and the Promise of Instant Intimacy, by Julia A. Ericksen.
Ballroom dancing is cool. Vince Vaughn danced in Swingers. Wait: Was there dancing in Swingers, or did they just say "Vegas, baby" a bunch of times? There was definitely ballroom dancing in Strictly Ballroom. At least, I think there was; I've heard a lot about that movie, but I've never seen it. I did see Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, but who hasn't? But whether you are a ballroom dancer, or aren't, or like ballroom dancing, or don't, you must recognize that ballroom dancing is an excellent metaphor for that ways that bourgeois expressions of raw physicality can establish the "instant intimacy" of this book's subtitle in mysterious ways that transcend gender and hearken back to a mystical, preverbal past when movement, not language, was ur-Man's primary mode of expression. Just like in La Bamba.

3. The People of the Book: Philosemitism in England, From Cromwell to Churchill, by Gertrude Himmelfarb.
When my high school girlfriend's mother and stepfather went on their annual trip to Barbados and left her alone in the house for ten days, I became a firm philosemite.

4. Time Travel and Warp Drives: A Scientific Guide to Shortcuts Through Time and Space, by Allen Everett and Thomas Roman.
Dear scientists: You seem to be discovering a lot of cool stuff lately. Recent findings include possible life on Mars; a planet in the habitable zone of a distant sun; and particles whose behavior may contradict Einstein's theory of relativity. But, frankly, these discoveries aren't what I'm interested in. I want: 1) Flying cars and 2) an E.T. that isn't a one-celled organism, but a living, breathing, thinking creature that flies around in flying cars or knows how to build them or, at least, has psychic powers. When you build a flying car or find a creature that can build one while reading my mind, call me. Sincerely, Guy tired of reading anti-climactic science articles when bored at work.

5. How to Fix Copyright, by William Patry.
I like Boing Boing, but as a musician whose livelihood was party destroyed as a result of the Internet's general disinterest in copyright, I can't always hang with them when they get mega-Occupyish about copyright stuff. I prefer when they post videos featuring Rick Perry talking about sausage.

1. Parallel Stories, by Péter Nádas, translated by Imre Goldstein.
This book is really long and by an intense Hungarian dude. It's probably about the entire history of the 20th century or something. Certainly, you will feel like a bad-ass even if you only read the first 45 pages. Then, when you ask a friend what he or she is reading and they say "Twilight: Breaking Dawn" or "that book about zombies by Colson Whitehead," you can sniff and say, "Oh really? I'm reading Parallel Stories by Péter Nádas, so suck it."

2. Bento's Sketchbook, by John Berger.
In this book, a sort-of obscure essayist who once won the Booker Prize offers his thoughts on the power and meaning of artistic expression in a critical-theory-ish fashion. Depending on one's mood, this could either hit the spot or really suck, but the book, like many by sort-of obscure essayists who once won the Booker Prize, is really short and has pictures, so it's not a major commitment or anything. In fact, the whole affair is a bit like making out with that gal or fella you always were fascinated with in high school, but making out with them after the homecoming game at a party instead of actually going on, like, a real date or something.

3. No Higher Honor: A Memoir of My Years in Washington, by Condoleezza Rice.
Scenario: The former Secretary of State moves to town. She's really smart and has a great smile. She plays the piano and knows about football. She might be a lesbian, but no one knows for sure. Do you: a) Ask her on a date before determining whether or not she really wanted to invade Iraq?; b) ask her on a date after confirming whether or not she really did want to invade Iraq?; c) ask her on a date before determining whether or not she is a lesbian?: d) ask her on a date regardless of her sexual orientation?; or e) all of the above? CONDI APOLOGISTS UNITE!

4. Mrs. Nixon: A Novelist Imagines a Life, by Ann Beattie.
Nobody I know seems to have bought, read, or talked about this really great underrated novel by Curtis Sittenfeld that offers a thinly fictionalized version of events in the life of Laura Bush. So, just on the strength of that relatively unknown novel about a First Lady, I'll recommend this one.

5. The Prague Cemetery, by Umberto Eco, translated by Richard Dixon.
I've been scared of Umberto Eco ever since I saw the film version of The Name of the Rose starring Sean Connery and Christian Slater really late one night on Skinemax and there was this freaky shot of a bloody, beating heart that I believe had been ripped from some unlucky person's chest. I'm not sure if the heart belonged to Mr. Connery or Mr. Slater, but I wasn't sticking around to find out.