In "quick, translucent prose" (Michiko Kakutani, New York Times) that is at once lyrical and unsentimental, D. J. Waldie recounts growing up in Lakewood, California, a prototypical post-World War II suburb. Laid out in 316 sections as carefully measured as a grid of tract houses, Holy Land is by turns touching, eerie, funny, and encyclopedic in its handling of what was gained and lost when thousands of blue-collar families were thrown together in the suburbs of the 1950s. An intensely realized and wholly original memoir about the way in which a place can shape a life, Holy Land is ultimately about the resonance of choices—how wide a street should be, what to name a park—and the hopes that are realized in the habits of everyday life.

    John s is known as a flourishing port city, a cultural gem, and popular tourist destination: a picturesque city of pubs and restaurants, music and colourful houses. But a thriving sex trade quietly exists beneath that polished conception, a trade few are aware of or even understand. In an engaging journalistic style, Kerri Cull respectfully reveals the people who make up the city s surprisingly diverse sex industry and, in the process, makes a compelling humanistic argument for understanding before judgment."