That mighty heart lying still.

One of the arguments leveled against book reviewing bloggers is the tendency of some to let their own personal experiences play into their reviews, rendering any pretense of objectivity suspect. I can see the validity of such an argument, although I think it makes too much of an assumption that Internet commentary ought to be answerable to the same standards as traditional media--and that's an argument that I'm not about to wade into. Still, I wanted to make the point that my strong reaction Chris Faust's lovely Nocturnes wasn't due as much to the artistic quality of the photos (formidable, by any estimation), but to the sense of being reminded of images so closely associated with the landscapes that I grew up with.

Faust in a Saint Paul based photographer, and the majority of the images here are from Minnesota, Ontario and Wisconsin. He also ranges as far afield as Tennessee, Arizona and Oregon. But as the title implies, the common thread is panoramic night scenes, capturing the landscapes with classic photographic techniques. He uses no digital manipulation of the images, instead relying on very long exposures, careful composition, and considerable darkroom tweeking.

The results are extraordinarily startling. The surface of Lake Superior becomes a burnished mirror, the familiar Duluth breakwater errily suspended above its own reflection. Ice encased freighters moored for the winter have a monumental potency about them. One image of the Duluth docks looks more like a vista along the ancient Nile than the gritty Iron Range. Especially for me, the photos of downtown Minneapolis capture the sense of crackling energy frozen in one vital moment. It's not so much a piece of artwork as a sensation, captured and preserved.

The book includes an essay by former Walker Art Center curator Joan Rothfuss, and most photographs have brief commentaries included in an appendix. Published by the University of Minnesota Press, the images do have a little unevenness of quality in a few--not surprising for a collection of tritones. Presented with a minimum of commentary in the actual collection, the artwork speaks brilliantly for itself.

Pithy Verdict: Extraordinary art that capture more than just the image.

The Buddhist and his AK-47.

I saw this odd little collection of portraits when it came across the desk recently. Not surprisingly, its arresting cover stuck in my mind. In a sense, it's an ingenious idea: take a massively decisive issue and actually go into people's houses and talk to them. Photographer Kyle Cassidy did just that for Armed America: Portraits of Gun Owners in Their Homes. In addition to the portraits, Cassidy includes each gun owner's answer to the question, 'Why do you own a gun?'

I have to admit, I'm conflicted about the whole gun control issue. On the one hand, I can understand people's appreciation of guns for recreation--I have, and still do, go target shooting on occassion. But I've also seen the damage these same firearms can do when in the hands of even the most careful marksman. Cassidy, to his credit, does a pretty good job of portraying people neutrally (and as an aside, I loved the humorous touch of including the family pets in the family portraits). There are plenty of people here who own guns for the pleasures that hunting and target practice bring to them. There are some surprising gun owners (a chef who wanted to shoot a wild turkey to get a sense of where food really comes from, the artist who needed a shotgun for a bronze casting, the collector with his 12 lb cannon) and some that make a lot of sense (law enforcement officers, fomer military and engineers of all sorts intrigued by a gun's mechanics). But when I read phrases like 'since the bad guys had guns, I should have one, too' or 'I refuse to become prey,' I can't help but wonder how much gun proliferation has turned into a circular argument: since most everyone can have a gun, I should have one too to protect myself from all those people with guns.

The argument has often been made that many nations (especially in Europe) with stringent gun laws have nowhere near as many instances of accidental shootings or the type of rampages that occurred at Virginia Tech or the Omaha mall. On the other hand, the lawlessness following Hurricane Katrina is cited repeatedly as an example of government breaking down, and citizens needing to defend themselves. Perhaps. With the right to bear arms so deeply entrenched in culture (and the Constitution), it's hard to see where (or if) the line should be drawn. As Cassidy's portraits demonstrate, the distinction between who own a gun and why is nowhere near black and white.

How the 0.0046% live.

I'll admit it: I love looking at home decor books. Not so much for the decoration or design of the places (let's face it--it's unlikely I would ever be able to afford the contents of a single room, much less an entire house), but for what the homes reveal of their owners. In most cases, the homes in such books are owned by very wealthy, but fairly anonymous figures. Architectural Digest, however, occassionally features homes of the rich and famous, thereby merging star oggling with the voyerism of looking at their homes.

Part of viewing other people's homes is the smugness that comes with assessing their tastes, and in that sense Hollywood at Home does not disappoint. Never a town (or nowadays, industry) known for restraint, many of the homes easily reflect their owners' larger than life personalities. The best example of excess goes to Jayne Mansfield's infamous Pink Palace, with its bathroom boasting pink shag carpeting on every flat surface (including the ceiling), but is also apparent in Cher's Italian Renaissance villa overlooking the beach, John Travolta's hangar-like home (complete with runway) or Jack Warner's 9-acre estate. Still, for every gargauntuan spread, there's a home that almost looks like mere mortals could reside within its walls. Not surprisingly, these most often belong to Hollywood stars of the past--James Stewart, Katherine Hepburn and Danny Kaye's seem almost quaint in their homey style.

The quality of the essays and photos varies across the book. Some essays concern themselves with the architectural or decorative characteristics of the house, while a few seem more like mini biographies of the famous occupant. The selection of homes is nicely mixed (including some in New York, New England and Ireland), as is the mix between old and new. Some stars are included for who they are rather than for their homes (Marilyn Monroe is here, in spite of the poor quality of images of her homes). But the point of Hollywood at Home's large, glossy format is for display on a coffee table or persual during viewings of Entertainment Tonight, and in that sense it serves its purpose admirably.

Bibliomane dies and goes to book cover heaven.

As a reader and a librarian, it would be good of me to adhere to the old maxim of not judging a book by its cover, and focus instead on the quality of the text inside. But reality usually has a way of eschewing such sampler-type wisdom, and no where is that more true in the bottom-line driven world of book design. Happily, in the right hands, a book can become its own work of art while staying faithful to ideas between its covers, and Chip Kidd: Book One: Work: 1986-2006 is a fabulous collection of just how beautiful a book as an object can be, from one of today's best designers.

In all honesty, I had no idea who this Kidd guy was prior to reading another glowing review of this book, and was only intrigued because of the promise of book cover art. When I picked it up at the local library, and started paging through its 400 pages of artwork, I had to laugh to myself, because it quickly appeared that this designer was responsible for some of the most appealing, memorable covers in recent publishing history. At times iconic, humourous, literal, controversial, intense, and exuberant, Kidd's work, to paraphrase the words of one author, uses a few symbols or images to capture the essense of complex literature.

Aside from the beautifully recreated cover art, Kidd provides humourous, insightful notes about each cover design, along with examples of source material and covers that never made it to the bookshelf. Various authors weigh in on what they liked (or didn't like) about the images for their books. Book One also offers a look into the usually tumultuous world of book publishing, especially at Knopf, where Kidd began his career twenty years ago. While hefty, Book One is entirely engrossing, and I had trouble putting it down. In the hands of anyone with an interest in publishing, design, art or books, Kidd's album is likely to have the same effect.