George Spindler Bibliography Definition


Together with my partner, colleague, best friend, lover, and wife Louise Spindler, I have had essentially four careers. One in the anthropology of education (or educational anthropology), one in psychological anthropology, one in teaching, and one in editing. These four careers inter-relate and, to us, were never separated by more than convention, but our colleagues seem to have viewed them as separate. I don't think that many of our anthropologist colleagues know much about our careers in the anthropology of education, nor do I think that our educator colleagues know much about our careers in psychological anthropology. They may know more about our careers as teachers and editors, though I doubt it.

On January 23, 1997, my dear wife slipped away after our seminar in ethnographic methods at Stanford University. She had been in ill health for some time but had bravely kept on working and coteaching classes with me. I go forward now, helped by my new partner, Lorie Hammond, a professor at California State University at Sacramento. I was psychologically unprepared for Louise's death, despite her long decline, and it took me some time to regroup. But I had a lot of help: from colleagues; old friends; students; people we met in our field work (I hesitate to call them “informants”); members of my family, particularly my daughter, Sue Coleman, and her husband, Lee; and Lorie and her extended family and friends. This essay is about the more than 50 years that Louise and I worked together, so it does not take into account any of the changes that have taken place in my outlook or experience since her death.

In keeping with our (Louise and my) attitude that these four careers were not separate, I discourse about them without regard for disciplinary, conceptual, or action boundaries. For my part, I think I was born an anthropologist. I spent a lot of time as a child living in caves with my “caveman” and “cavewomen” friends. We sat before a fire and talked about neat things like how to hunt mammoths without getting killed. I surprised my mother and father (I was an only child) by bringing in to lunch with me a set of tools I had manufactured to be used when we all went to live in the cave of choice. My mother's mop and broom handles had disappeared to become spears, knives (with wooden handles), and digging sticks. The knives and spears sported points of carefully hammered tin lids from canned-goods containers. My parents were a bit surprised at this presentation but showed what seemed to be serious interest in my activities and particularly in my fantasies (my father was a William James psychologist). My mother showed great restraint in not expressing more than momentary dismay at the fate of her housekeeping tools. I think they decided my fantasies were harmless, since I exhibited no diminution of interest in daily life, and particularly in eating, which was always a favorite activity of mine.

What little I knew about “primitive” life was transmitted by several books that my parents had read to me. I continued reading books about hunters, Indians, explorers, and Daniel Boone types throughout my formative years. My father prevented a limiting concentration on such literature by giving me readings from his library. When he found me one night reading “Snappy Bedtime Stories” and “Parisian Nights” by flashlight, he gave me an illustrated edition of Decameron's Boccacio, which went considerably further than did “Snappy Bedtime Stories” and further stimulated my interest in the “other.” Though in my preteen years my interests had shifted to cowboys, by the time I was 13 I was reading Varieties of Religious Experience, by William James. My education went on from there, mostly at the hands of my father and my mother, who had been a court reporter and college registrar, rather than from school.

Louise came by her introduction to an anthropological perspective by being part of a family that visited California gold mines that had been “played out,” to see what could be produced by a reworking of them. The area, near Tehechapi, afforded a typical Sierra experience, with the beauty of a thoroughly natural environment and friends that she would never have met in her regular school. The Mexican and Chinese offspring of workers in the gold mines her father was reworking became her best friends, and she lived through each winter in the confines of a white suburban school and community in keen anticipation of her return to the mines, the mountains, and her friends. This went on for four years, from childhood at five to young girlhood at nine. At that point, her father, having lost his shirt on gold mines that really had been picked over thoroughly, gave up his dream, and the wonderful summers ended for Louise. But she never forgot them and her friends and continued to look for experiences in nature and for contacts with “others.”

As an adult, she became a teacher of German, interested in drama and art. But when I went to graduate school after World War II, she found her soul in anthropology. Immediately she began to work toward a PhD, which she attained in 1956, becoming the first graduate of the Department of Anthropology at Stanford. She had participated in classes and seminars at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, where I attended graduate school for three years, and at UCLA, where I attended for two years, so she was well prepared for advanced work at Stanford. Early on she developed a strong interest in women's lives and contributed a genderized perspective to our joint work while also pursuing her own interests in women's roles and struggles. She was never a militant, but women graduate students at Stanford recognized her as one of the “foremothers” of the women's movement in anthropology.

Louise and I started working in anthropology together in 1948, our first year in the field with the Menominee Indians. We worked every summer, from early June to late September, for seven years. We lived in a tent on the edge of the reservation, where we were not affiliated with any specific Menominee family. It was a thoroughly undeveloped area, around a lake unknown to anyone but a few local fishermen, where our Menominee friends could visit us freely. Those years were golden for us and our daughter, Sue, who spent seven years, from age 4 to 11, thinking she was an Indian. As with her mother, her best friends were “others,” and she knew them in a beautiful natural environment. Living in a tent was our choice. We had started camping the same month we were married (May 29, 1942) and continued doing so for the rest of our lives together. Living in a camp in the forest seemed perfectly natural to the Menominee we were most interested in and with whom we became most intimate, the “native oriented” or traditional Menominee. They lived in the northwest corner of the reservation, spread about in the forest, residing in rough structures they built themselves of discarded wood, bent saplings, and tar paper. They carried on a way of life that seemed very traditional to us: speaking Menominee at all ceremonial events; carrying on the Medicine Lodge (Mitäwin), the Dream Dance (Nemehetwin), the Chief's Dance (Oketcheteweshemon), and other nonseasonal rituals, such as naming ceremonies and ghost feasts (held in celebration of a person who had died). It was traditional all right, but because the participants wanted it to be so. This group of “native-oriented” were participating in a reaffirmative movement. All the people in it excepting the elders had lived in mainstream society, working for a living at a wide variety of jobs. They had sickened of life in that society and come back home. They had all experienced the Menominee way in early childhood, and in some cases longer, and wanted to “get a hold” of that way of life. They sought out the elders who were survivors of the past, to learn their language and acquire the culture as it was practiced by them.

We did not fully understand that we were studying a reaffirmative movement until about the third season of fieldwork. We actually did research on all the other kinds of Menominee we could identify and constructed from our interviews and observational data five sociocultural groups: the native oriented, peyote, transitional, lower status acculturated, and elite acculturated. But our hearts were with the native oriented. We not only found them most interesting, we also felt most at home with them. When we came “home” each summer, we went to see them first. We made close friends with several, friendships that lasted for a lifetime. And about them we have written most extensively and in greater depth, and we think with greater sensitivity, than we have about any of the other group we studied. In retrospect, we came to see that we related so strongly to this group for reasons that were not exactly scientific.

We were both deeply motivated by early childhood experiences and fantasies. We both were looking for ways of life that would in some ways complement or extend the kind of life that we had both imagined and experienced to some degree as children. Another colleague who had worked with the Menominee remarked that “these are not the Menominee I know.” His bias was toward what we termed the “acculturated.” To him they were the ones coping with the exigencies of modern life. The “native-oriented” were of little interest, and not once in his several months of field work with the Menominee had he gone to see any of what the most acculturated Menominee, the officials, and priests termed the “traditionals,” or sometimes “those dirty Indians.”

A number of publications issued from this field work. There were two primary publications (G Spindler 1955, L Spindler 1962), but many others followed. My first publications on the Menominee were actually in 1952 (Spindler & Goldschmidt 1952, G Spindler 1952). My first lesson in the fallibility of the icons of anthropology came with the rejection of the Spindler & Goldschmidt (1952) article by Mel Herskovits, then editor of the American Anthropologist. It became the most reprinted article I ever wrote. It was accepted by the Southwestern Journal of Anthropology. Several other publications followed shortly (L Spindler & G Spindler 1958, 1978;, G Spindler & L Spindler 1957, 1961) and all stemmed from this first seven years of field research. In 1990, we published a comprehensive comparative analysis of male and female adaptations in four changing cultures, the Menominee, Blood, Germany, and Cree, for the Melford Spiro Festschrift (G Spindler & L Spindler 1990a).

In 1971 we wrote a book entitled Dreamers Without Power: The Menominee Indians (G Spindler & L Spindler 1971). Several summers later we went back to the Menominee reservation to participate in their annual pageant and fair. Hung across State Highway 47, which went through the heart of the reservations, was a huge white banner with foot-high red letters that read DREAMERS WITH POWER: THE MENOMINEE. With the leadership of Ada Deer and her associates, they had, after much negotiation and some well-timed militant protests, succeeded in getting the termination order reversed that had nearly ruined the Menominee economy as well as their social structure. The Menominee were not feeling powerless! Our initial meaning had been that their sacred power had been lost in the conflict with whites. But we took heed of their implied admonition and put out a new edition entitled Dreamers with Power: The Menominee Indians (G Spindler & L Spindler 1984).

This book has been popular with Native Americans. It draws heavily from our first publications on the Menominee and includes later obervations made during our frequent revisits to the reservation in subsequent years. I was particularly pleased by an event on a revisit to the Menominee during the summer of 1999. Lorie, my daughter, Sue, Sue's husband, and I were invited to a Nemehetwin ceremony, the summer ceremony. There were more people attending than had ever attended a Nemehetwin ceremony during the early period of our field research, and it was held in a recently constructed octagonal structure many times larger than the meager quonset-type huts it had been held in during the early period. The usual drummers and big drums were in full swing, with people dancing in the solemn way dancing happens at such ceremonies. During the break, the ceremonial leader, as usual, got up to make a speech, but he kept referring to “The Writing.” He said, “Before I lead one of these ceremonies I always read the writing.” Afterwards many people came up to me and said “I have read the writing.” I was baffled until it suddenly dawned on me that they were talking about the Dreamers book! It had become a sort of manual, a guide to the ceremony and its meaning. No one ever had higher praise heaped on them for anything they wrote about any Native American tribe. I cast about for some explanation, for there are a number of publications that are more directly a description of the Nemehetwin. What the Menominee at that meeting were responding to was that our case study of the Menominee, of which a description of the Nemehetwin is a part, was in substantial degree composed of quotes from Menominee participants. They were reading the words of their own grandparents and parents! Giving voice to informants, it seems, has value.

The last piece I wrote solely on the Menominee, about a schizophrenic Menominee peyotist, first published in German, was a Festschrift for George Devereux (Spindler 1986) later reprinted in English (Spindler 1987). Devereux, with whom Louise and I had formed a bond of friendship starting with the first AAA meeting we attended in 1947, remarked in his critical response to what others had written for his Festschrift, “If only everyone understood my work as well as George Spindler!” He was, in fact, deadly critical of many of the pieces submitted by well-known scholars, most of them with a psychoanalytic bent. In fact his criticisms created somewhat of a stir in intellectual circles in Europe. My thesis was that the schizophrenic process removed Joe Nepah from meaningful participation both in the peyote ceremony and with other peyotists, even though hallucinations were a kingpin of peyotism. He could not believe in them as a nonschizophrenic person could because there was no “normal” for him to contrast them with. He didn't know when he was having a hallucination, so there was nothing special that he could attribute to other-worldly power, to a “Master Peyote.” I drew from Devereux's concepts of “normal” and “abnormal” in this interpretation. Or perhaps he liked my piece because he admired Louise.

I said this was the last paper I wrote on the Menominee. This is not quite true because we wrote one other that drew from Menominee material (G Spindler & L Spindler 1992a). In this article we compared the samples of Rorschachs that Hallowell and his students collected from three groups of Ojibwa resembling the native-oriented, transitional, and acculturated Menominee in the sociocultral dimension. The parallels are dramatically close and raise interesting questions about the uniformity of psychological processes in relation to sociocultural processes for a very large sector of Native North Americans.

But such questions are interesting only if one accepts both psychological interpretations and the validity of the Rorschach projective technique as denoting psychological process. Most anthropologists do neither. And thereby hangs a problem for us. Although I had taken the written portion of my PhD exams at Wisconsin in order to participate in Bruno Klopfer's seminar on projective techniques, in 1948 I went to UCLA. I was planning to stay for one year, then return to Wisconsin. Instead, I stayed for two years, took the seminar for three semesters, and did my doctoral work under the supervision of Walter Goldschmidt, with whom I still maintain significant social and intellectual contact. At Wisconsin, Louise and I had studied as doctoral candidates under Scudder Mekeel, a psychological anthropologist who introduced us to the concept of basic personality structure and other foundations of psychological anthropology as it existed at that time. I had entered graduate school at Wisconsin in 1945, the day after I was mustered out of the army, to become a physical anthropologist, and I had the good fortune to study under WW Howells and act as his teaching assistant. He provided me with an inspirational model as a teacher and a scholar as well as a gentleman, but the lure of psychological interpretations drew me away from a career in physical anthropology and into the witches' brew called at that time “personality and culture.” Scudder Mekeel became our model and his influence was profound, but he died suddenly of a heart attack in the summer of 1947, leaving us temporarily adrift.

We had been attracted to A Irving (Pete) Hallowell and his work with the Ojibwa, and it was this attraction that led to our trip to UCLA and Bruno Klopfer's seminar. Pete had used the Rorschach in his extensive study of the Ojibwa and their adaptation to Western culture. We used the Rorschach in our Menominee study, and though we did a thorough ethnography of the Menominee, the Rorschach results became a strong focus in the conceptualization of the study, its methodology, and the interpretations applied. We became major advocates of the Rorschach as a tool that would help solve some of the vexing problems of trying to deal with psychological process in relation to sociocultural process. This was not entirely to our advantage. While I was at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences (1956), a senior anthropologist whom I admired very much took me aside to say, “Everyone thinks that you are intelligent and that you have an excellent understanding of anthropological principles, but you are hooked on the Rorschach and this will be of no advantage to you.” This was a dash of cold water in the face. But we persisted. Our careers in psychological anthropology were seriously affected, but we felt that the understanding of what we were trying to do was poor and that unfair judgments were being made. We continued to feel that way. The defense of the use of the Rorschach is too complex to pursue here. If any reader is interested, the articles cited will provide the rebuttal.

In any event, the Rorschach gave us an excuse to go from house to house on the Menominee and the Blood Indian reservations asking people if they would look at some pictures. This seemed harmless enough to most, and they would invite us in, usually to spend several hours administering the Rorschach, myself to the man, Louise to the woman, observing the household in interaction, and chatting about various matters of mutual interest. In our work on the Menominee and Blood reservations we were in fact only refused once. In the case of the Blood, we depended on our friend and guide, Ben Calfrobe, who knew everyone and seemed related to most. In the case of the Menominee, we depended on our own friendly approach and our growing network of acquaintances to provide the necessary contacts. We collected similar samples in both communties, about 70 males and a like number of females. From the beginning of our work together, Louise had insisted that the number of cases collected from women be equal to that collected from men. For each “case” we collected not only Rorschach responses but also observations and interviews.

And this brings me to our work with the Blood, who occupy a large reservation between Cardston and Fort Macleod, Alberta, Canada. We started there in the summer of 1958 and worked the summers of 1959 and 1960, and intermittently through 1973. Our purpose in going there was to collect a sample of Rorschachs comparable to those we had collected from the Menominee, with the same attention to sociocultural position, to see whether or not Rorschach patterns of response varied in the same way with respect to sociocultural variables. They did not, for the Blood were much more homogeneous culturally than were the Menominee, even though their socioeconomic positions varied, and they were more homogeneous psychologically. In our Menominee sample, however, every defined sociocultural group produced Rorschachs that, group-wise, were homogenous but that were sharply differentiated from all other groups. We had initially selected the Blood for study because they, like the Menominee, were relatively wealthy, thus allowing for economic divisions to occur, and because they, too, were Algonquian speaking.

We camped along the Belly River, across from Standoff, a major Blood village, and downstream from the Standoff Hutterite Colony. We were in a good position to study Hutterites, for we had our daughter and a friend of hers along, and they proved to be a magnet for the Hutterite boys, who visited our campsite often in the evenings. But we let it be known that we had come there to study Blood culture and psychology, not Hutterite. I think this increased our rapport with the Hutterites even more. Later on, Bloods would visit us at our camp. We have subsequently visited the Blood a number of times. In 1998, Lorie and I visited them just as the annual Sun Dance was being “put up.” It was a poignant time for me. The Sun Dance encampment was larger than at any time during Louise's and my fieldwork, and the participants were on the whole much younger. Their attitude of welcome and openness had also changed. We were obviously regarded as white intruders by some. They had not known Louise and me during the earlier period, and a new self assertiveness had developed, a healthy situation for the Blood, but not as comfortable for the visiting anthropologist.

Of particular significance to Louise and me was the development and first use of the Instrumental Activities Inventory (IAI) as a consequence of our need to go further into the practical choices our respondents were making, and to not stay at the abstract level of inquiry of the Rorschach. We were given most useful help designing the technique by John Collier Jr, who had worked with us before in the interpretation of Menominee photographs. The IAI was what we called a “provocative stimulus,” a genre of technique useful as a supplement in interview situations. Ours consisted of line drawings made by a Blood Indian artist, Gerald Tailfeathers, from our sizable collection of slides on all aspects of Blood Indian Life. The 34 IAI pictures he produced ranged from drawings of activities, possessions, situations, and displays of traditional qualities to drawings representing activities, possessions, and situations engaged in only by highly acculturated people. Respondents were asked to pick out drawings they particularly liked, for themselves or their children, and ones they did not like, and then to explain why they liked or did not like them. In a pilot study, we first administered the whole set to a number of people representing the sociocultural groups on the reservation. We then eliminated the more unproductive ones, leaving us with 24 pictures that we used to collect our sample. We proceeded as we had with the Rorschach, visiting homes representing all the socioculural categories present in the reservation community, but this time with no guide. We felt that we had come to know those on the reservation well enough that they would permit us to guide ourselves.

Many of our colleagues avoid such techniques as the IAI for various reasons, among them that they are too “etic.” This always seemed to us to be due to a misunderstanding of the nature of the drawings. They were drawings of real activities, possessions, and situations, real in the experience of the Blood. Admittedly, the fact that we were representing something in drawings that one must choose from is a Western idea, but the Blood were sophisticated enough to make this objection somewhat irrelevant. The most broad objection was simply that something is being introduced into the situation the ethnographer is in that is not there “naturally,” thus affecting what is happening and interfering with direct observation. This objection had the greatest validit, in our view, but we opted for using the IAI because we felt that given our research objectives, the values of comparability between samples outweighed the objection. We were obviously not “pure” ethnographers, but we felt that wherever we were, we always did a thorough job of ethnography and did not allow our use of “foreign” techniques to distract us from that objective.

In any event, the Blood respondents seemed to embrace the IAI enthusiastically. Most of them carried on a conversation with us about matters that had only tangentially to do with the IAI. This “provocative stimulus” was indeed “provoking.”

For whatever reason, though we worked energetically for each of the four summers devoted to research on the Blood, we never exploited our materials with anything near the intensity we did with our Menominee data. We had the misfortune of losing our two first “guides,” Ben Calfrobe and Percy Two Gun, one to a heart attack and the other to overexposure in a howling blizzard. But by the third year of our research, we were able to get along quite well by ourselves. Perhaps we didn't relate to the Blood data in the same way as we had the Menominee because we started field research in Germany in the fall of 1959 with students in courses at the Stanford Overseas Campus in Germany, though we didn't really get the research part under way until we returned to Germany in 1967. Perhaps it was because we were tired of working with Native Americans. Or perhaps it was because the Blood reservation was so big and the people so scattered over huge expanses of prairie that we rarely saw them more than once or twice, so we never knew them as intimately as we came to know the Menominee.

All these reasons are probably accountable for the meager number of publications issuing from the Blood research (G Spindler & L Spindler 1965, 1978b). Those and various articles in which we made some minor comparisons between Menominee and the Blood are the sum total of all we published. Though we scored all the Blood Rorshachs, we did not apply the statistical comparisons to either Blood-to-Blood groups or Blood-to-Menominee groups. Perhaps I will finish the job if I live long enough. The IAI proved useful in a six-week study of the Mistassini Cree that we mounted in 1966, and in applications to the German Research, which follow as a part of another research career, educational anthropology.


I came to Stanford in the fall of 1950, after a full summer of research with the Menominee, to be an anthropologist on a team consisting of two professional educators, one sociologist, and a psychiatrist. Dr. Robert Bush, the director of the project, did not know exactly what an anthropologist should do in a study of schooling, but he wanted to try one out. The objective of the study, supported with Rosenberg Foundation money, was to do case studies of teachers in their classrooms, principals in their schools, and superintendents in their school systems. Our mode of operation was to go to a school, or a principal, or superintendent, explain what we wanted to do and describe it as a way of “improving professional competence.” This was apparently appealing to school faculties, etc, because everyone we approached volunteered as a subject for study. Our promise was to do a thorough study of whatever the given situation was and provide feedback of the relevant parts, violating no “privacy,” in order to improve the insight of the subject into what s/he was doing and to what effect.

In one of the schools, which I shall call Washington School, all of the faculty volunteered. We put their names on slips of paper and deposited them into a hat, from which we drew three names—one for an educator, one for the sociologist, and one for me. I met with “Roger Harker,” my volunteer, that same afternoon and explained who I was and what (I thought) I would be doing. He turned out to be a healthy-looking young white man from a local family of upper-middle-class origin. He was 25 years of age and had three years of teaching experience. I started visiting his fifth grade classroom the next day.

I wondered what I should observe and take notes on that first day and continued to wonder for the next few weeks. It was so boring! I had just come from the Menominee, where Louise and I had a most active summer, including my getting witched at a Medicine Lodge ceremony and landing the next day in a hospital with a high fever of “undiagnosed origin.” I went to a shaman whom I had met who was a leader at the ceremony and asked him for an amulet or something that would give me protection in similar circumstances. He expressed surprise that the sorcery would work on a white man, but he acquiesced, telling me to return in four days and, with my participation, he would “bless” the amulet he would have prepared by then. I came as scheduled, he “installed” the amulet, and I have carried it ever since. I am happy to say that I have not been subject to successful sorcery since that one time. I knew I was doing anthropology. I wrote up the event, reinterviewed the shaman and numerous others, took further notes, and in general exploited my experience and my feelings to the fullest degree. But in Roger Harker's classroom, there was nothing to see, nothing to take notes on. I thought.

Then one day, as I looked over the class of 35 fifth graders, I noticed that all the good readers were on one side of the classroom and all the poor readers were on the other side. (I had observed reading several times by then.) I further noticed that all the good readers excepting two were white and middle class, and that all the poor readers appeared to be members of minority groups and seemed to be of lower socioeconomic status. I devoted my next few visits to checking out this observation. I interviewed each child, consulted school records, and placed each child according to residential status. (The sociologist and I had drawn up a map, placing each residence according to a Lloyd Warner type scale—by type, size, location, and condition. We canvassed the entire school district on foot.) My observations proved to be correct.

This started the ethnographic engine, and I set about preparing various situations in which Roger's relationships with these two types of children would be displayed, besides observing him behave as a fifth grade teacher. I also devised a questionnaire, using a Likert-type scale, that I administered to him, to the principal and vice principal, and to various members of the superintendent's staff, as well as to the superintendent himself. The questionnaire contained 16 statements about this teacher, such as “This teacher is accessible to children with problems.” Those administered the questionnaire were asked to rate each statement according to one of five assessments: “much more so than most teachers,” “somewhat more so than most teachers,” “about as much so as most teachers,” “less so than most teachers,” and “much less so than most teachers.” The “situations” I devised for him consisted of such things as a request that he write down the names of the children whom he regarded as “best adjusted” (and define adjustment), or the names of those “most liked by their classmates,” “most successful academically,” “best liked by me” (the teacher), and so on. I also collected a sociogram, which showed social preferences among the children, for the class as a whole, administered to the children a questionnaire similar to the one I had administered to the teacher and the others who observed him, and interviewed each child about his/her relationships with the teacher. I also interviewed each of the respondents to the questionnaire (principal, assistant principal, superintendent's staff, etc).

The mass of data I collected was almost too much. I also collected a Rorschach and a Murray Thematic Apperception Test from Roger and did an expressive autobiographic interview with him (a technique Louise had used in her study of Menominee women).

Everything pointed in the same direction. He was strongly biased on the side of the white middle class and upper-middle-class children. He knew more information about them, he predicted success for them and failure for those of lower socioeconomic status, and he described their relationships with each other in different terms, complimentary to the higher-status children. In all dimensions, Roger came down on the higher-status side. He wasn't mean or hostile to the lower-status children. He was a “nice” teacher. But he constructed a classroom that was conducive to learning for the higher-status and discouraging to lower-status children. He constructed a mirror in which he, himself, was reflected (Spindler 1959).

What was particularly impressive about all this was that he was unaware that it was happening, as were all of the “others” who rated him. He was uniformly regarded as one of their best young teachers, and he regarded himself, rating their perceptions of him on the same questionnaire, as one of the best. Only the children detected anything amiss.

The higher-status children rated him higher than the lower-status ones, but there were respondents from both groups who rated him low on “accessibility” and “easy to go to with problems.” And there were numerous other indications of bias. Asked to describe the outstanding children in the sociogram of the classroom, including their standing with each other, he consistently described the higher-status children as highly popular with their classmates whereas the converse was more often true.

When I began to feed these data back to him, as my contract required, he became very upset, accusing me of skewing the data. But eventually he saw the truth of what I was telling him, and he began acquiring skills that would enable him to more effectively relate his teaching to all the children who were being taught.

What impressed me most was that the whole educational situation in which Roger was imbedded was biased in the same way as he was. (I later did a study of the success or failure of Mexican-American children in that community and discovered that the longer a child of that ethnicity attended school, the lower his or her academic achievement score, and the lower the score on the mental maturity scale.) If I had not happened along when I did, Roger would have been promoted to administration and continued to compound his errors. He was promoted eventually anyhow, but after he had revised his construction of his classrooom and teaching orientation.

This case, my first one, made a deep impression on me and influenced the next 50 years of professional development. My next one, done in the early 1950s, also impressed me deeply, for somewhat the same reasons, but with a difference (Spindler 1974a)

We decided that we wanted to study someone whom the faculty of a school determined to be “adjusted,” so we advanced this idea to one of the schools cooperating with us. The staff concurred enthusiastically. At the next faculty meeting they were ready. A well-dressed, brown-haired girl 10 and a half years old, “one of the best students in the school,” from a “good family,” “well-liked by her classmates, in fact a leader among them,” “pleasant and cooperative” had been selected. The criteria for “adjustment” were “academically successful, well organized, well liked by her peers, cooperative, gets along well with everyone.” We started observing her the next day.

We began with the Thematic Apperception Test and the Rorschach. We took her academic standings and California Mental Maturity from school records. Both were at the high end of performance. To our surprise, “Beth Anne” exhibited some difficulties in her responses to the two projective techniques. She was quite emotionally constricted, either unwilling or unable to let her imagination loose to help her solve problems posed by the stimuli of the two techniques. She appeared to be anxious to please—concerned about whether she had given enough responses, whether they were like what others had produced, whether she had made them clear. If she dropped a Rorschach card two inches to the table she said, “Oh! Pardon me!”

Observations of her in her classroom group revealed other characteristics that did not fit the characterizations provided by the faculty. She seemed standoffish with her peers, relating well to only one other girl who appeared to be of the same social background (this was confirmed in an interview with the parents). She appeared worried about assignments, asking querulously about them when they were made. She was absent more often than the other fifth graders. A sociogram developed from responses to the question “Whom would you like to sit next to in this classroom?” showed her to be virtually isolated, only chosen second by her “best friend!”

A home visit revealed a very comfortable upper-middle-class domicile, with a somewhat worried-looking woman, Beth Anne's mother, who assured me immediately that her husband would be home “any minute.” He was, and we immediately started in on the interview, though the first question was asked by him. “What are you studying about Beth Anne and what have you found out?” I explained the reasons for studying her and the methods we used and told them selectively what we had found out.

To make a long story short, the parents had noted some of the characteristics that we did and had, in a limited way, worried about them. Among other things the parents had noticed was an “abdominal tic” that she had exhibited in the past six months. The family doctor had told them “not to worry about it,” that she would get over it “in due course.” We discussed all this and concluded that an effort should be made to relax some of the extraordinarily high expectations concerning her behavior and achievements.

When we took the report to the teachers we received a mixed reception. Some were openly skeptical about the significance of our observations and data. “She'll be fine.” “She's a great reader.” “There's nothing wrong with her imagination.” “Her folks take her everywhere.” “They went to Alaska last summer.” “She will have an active social life, I am sure.” “She'll belong to a sorority.” Others began to see things that they had not mentioned when the choice of “best adjusted” was made. “I know you mentioned her little worried look.” “She was always friendly with me but I noticed that she seemed a little standoffish with the other children.”

We obviously did not have a well-adjusted child as the focus of our study. She gave every evidence of a personality under siege. She was defending herself as best she could but it wasn't working. The question we were left with was how could a whole faculty come to such a wrong conclusion? The answer, we decided, was that the teachers picked a child who conformed in every respect to their ideals, their projections of the good and desirable. She appeared to them to be what they would want their daughters to be.

In a way, Beth Anne was like Roger Harker. Both represented idealizations projected from judges within the system. Neither fit the reality of the situation within which their efficacy had to be evaluated.

Roger's fifth grade classroom had become too diverse to fit the unicultural mold that he, and the school system at that time, represented. The school, for Beth Anne, was likewise too diverse. She could not relate to her classmates because they mostly represented social statuses and ethnicities that were not hers, and her parents did not help her to see their value. But she was suffering from a general oppression that resulted from a concerted drive on the part of both teachers and parents to be all she could be—to fulfill their dreams.

These two cases, encountered so early in my career as educational anthropologist, influenced everything I did from that point on. The experience made me rediscover the old anthropological adage “Nothing is as it seems.” In February of this year I delivered a paper at a national ethnographic meeting at Houston that I titled “The Collusion of Illusions: How to Find out What People Don't Know.” The basic idea is that whole school systems (or social systems anywhere) may be centered on illusions about the nature of the situation they are dealing with, and responsible people will make decisions on the basis of them. The paper took off from where I have taken you with the first two cases and goes further. I follow it a bit in order to communicate where Louise's and my journey took us in the anthropology of education.

In the fall of 1959 we went to Germany to teach at the Stanford Overseas Campus Beutelsbach, outside Stuttgart. The courses we were to teach were courses we had taught at Stanford, namely Introduction to Sociocultural Anthropology (Anthropology 001) and American Culture (Anthropology 015). I started out the quarter doing pretty much what I had done at Stanford, but somehow it rang hollow. One day I stood on the rim of the Remstal (Rems valley) looking at the five villages and the vineyards spread out before me and wondered why we were studying Anthro 001, and American Culture 015 when we had those villages spread out before us in the valley below, all of them going through the pangs of adaptation to a changing world. The next day I told the approximately 80 students, most of them sophomores, that the syllabi, directions for papers, etc, were null and void. We were going to study what was there in the valley before us. They were enthused, and that afternoon the first of what was a 16-year ethnographic field trip began. The results were so good that in 1973 I published a case study using a great deal of their work (Spindler & students 1973). Louise and I supervised their work and integrated their findings interpretively in our weekly class sessions. Of course there was a certain discontinuity over the years, since we were not at the Center more than three months at a time, and not every year. But the students learned so quickly that we were able to get going each new quarter without delay. Meanwhile our own interest in the Remstal as a research site grew, and before the Center closed in 1975, we had started some projects of our own. Our Blood Indian research was winding down by then and we were looking for new territory. We came back to Germany in 1977 to begin a follow-up of research I had begun in 1968. Louise entered into the school research full force at that time. Her presence made all the difference in the success of the project, both because she was another worker and a female, and because she was an especially sensitive one. We returned in 1981 and 1985. We had meanwhile returned in 1969, 1970, 1972, 1973, and 1975 to teach at Stanford-in-Germany. While we were teaching we did research ourselves, besides having 60–80 eager ethnographers pouring data into our files. I don't think anyone had ever had it so good in the field. My department objected to my being gone so much, but the university administration gave me the Dinkelspeil Award for Outstanding Service to Undergraduate Education for it, citing my using Beutelsbach as a “fresh window on the larger world.” It is one of the prizes I have particularly enjoyed.

We started with a migration and assimilation model. We had thought that our focus should be on the mutual adaptation of the Einheimischen (natives) and the Fluchtlinge (those who fled from East Germany and homelands in Silesia, Russia, and Czechoslovakia) and other Zugezogenen (newcomers). Our first publication (Spindler 1973) was done with some 400 students whose ethnographic studies contributed directly to the publication. In it we tried to give a picture of the various kinds of people who lived in Beutelsbach (Burgbach) at that time and contrasted this diversity with the simple social structure of the pre World War II period. During and since the war, the once village had swollen to well over twice its former size with newcomers with different religions (largely Catholic), including more urban dwellers, who were more educated, more often professional, speaking a different dialect than the Swabish spoken by the natives, and with quite different values. Our ethnographic work, by students and ourselves, had been aimed at nailing down the cultural features of each group and their relationships with each other. The role of the Grundschule (elementary school) in these relationships was of particular interest. We spent many hours in the school, observing, socializing, and trying to understand how the school operated, what mission the teachers and principal felt they had, and how the school as a village entity related to the larger structure of education in Baden-Wurtemburg (The Land, equivalent to province or state). We interacted with the staff. I went on hikes, watched ball games, ate lunch, and played with the children. Louise packed up to 10 little girls into our Volkswagen before school and told jokes and riddles with them. I tried doing the work of the third-grade child to try to understand what it was like for them to be in school. They treated me like a big dumb kid, for my German was not quite up to third-grade level at that time. And besides, third-grade German is remarkably different from adult Hoch Deutsch. I gave it up after a few weeks because I could not keep up with the work and do ethnography, but it was revealing, and it improved my rapport with the children.

A published study (Spindler 1974b) examined these themes, with a focus on the IAI that we had adapted to use in Germany and that was constructed so as to reveal the dynamics of changes from traditional to urbanized modern. Other publications followed (Spindler 1976, 1987b, c;, G Spindler & L Spinder 1978a, 1987). (Later entries in the list represent a period of expansion in the German project.) We concentrated solely on the German Grundschule in “Schönhausen” (a pseudonym) through the 1981 visit, our purpose being to determine the role of the school in the massive changes taking place in the Remstal. We focused on the teachers as cultural transmitters and concluded that they were a conservative influence, despite the fact (a) that older teachers had been replaced by younger recent graduates of the training institutions for teachers and (b) that all of the curriculum had been changed and the textbooks replaced in the sweeping reforms that the federal government had implemented. In fact, the school appeared to act as a conservative factor of substantial proportions throughout the entire reform. To determine this, we studied each teacher carefully, stressing advocacies, emphases, relationships with state-sponsored projects and curricular content, and their responses to the IAI, which were uniformly on the culturally conservative side, making traditional instrumental choices.

We moved to a concept of self in our further analyses and defined an “enduring self” that we described as romantic-idealistic and a “situated self” that we described as pragmatic. In these terms, the enduring self was supported in the school's cultural transmission, with less enthusiasm devoted to the situated self. These two selves were represented in the transformative culture change overtaking the Remstal. This development was presented in various publications (e.g. G Spindler & L Spindler 1989b).

In our 1981 field trip to the Remstal, we had films we had taken in 1977 and 1981 of the teachers and the Schönhausen environs that we showed to teachers with the idea that we would use them as provocative stimuli for discussions. They did act in this way, and we found our studies of individual classrooms to be enhanced. However, the interest of the teachers in their own behaviors and that of other teachers was so intense we could hardly get into the conversations, which ranged all over the place. The teachers were so invigorated by seeing themselves teach that they asked us to bring some similar films from a comparable school in the United States when we came back again.

That we did. We started work in a comparable school in “Roseville,” Wisconsin, upon returning to the United States and took films (later converted to videos) of classrooms in a school that was impressively like the German school. It was semirural and of comparable size and age and grade range, and it used similar content for the curriculum, categorized into literature, grammar, mathematics, and civics or social studies.

We took films in the Roseville school that were virtual counterparts of the German films. We showed the Roseville teachers their own films and the German films and recorded their reactions. We then returned to Germany to do the same with the Schönhausen teachers, children, and superintendent.

This move started a whole new phase of the German research, which became transformed into a German/American comparative study (see Spindler 1993). Showing the films to the two audiences was an experience in itself. We had an initial interview with the Schulamptdirektor (superintendent) to ask permission to carry out another period of research in one of his schools. When he heard that we had taken films of an American school comparable to Schönhausen Grundschule, he insisted on seeing them immediately, as he was leaving on a trip the next day. So we gathered our films and our wits together (we had been in Germany only one day and our German was pretty rusty) and arrived at his office suite around 7:00 PM. To our surprise, the principal and all of the Grundschule teachers were there.

Over excellent Remstal wine and fresh Kuchen, we showed the films and discussed them. Everything was recorded. The superintendent spoke first. Roughly translated, he said: “It is difficult for me to see whether these films are typical of either the school or of other schools in a broader area. If they are typical we come to a situation. I must say there is between the school in Roseville and that in Schönhausen a clear difference, a decisive difference. Our teachers, our understanding about school, are situated in a specific system. This system is influenced directly from above, from the school system viewpoint.” He went on to describe how there was a curricular plan formed from above that each teacher must follow, how the teacher brought together all the themes delineated in the plan, and how everyone reached the same goal of instruction. He commented further on Roseville. “If I am to take these pictures (of Roseville) that we have seen as typical, and you say they are, then it is very difficult for me to understand how instruction and progress can move together. There are many questions, many. For example, are the children able to reach, to proceed in similar steps towards learning goals? How does the teacher handle the problem of having one group further along and the other hanging behind? I am not one to think there is only one way to get to Rome. But without doubt for us a goal is a goal and without doubt a goal is to be obtained. Leistungsfähigkeit [productive efficiency] for the group is the purpose, not the purpose of the individual.” He had more to say but these quotes sum up his views and to a considerable degree those of the teachers, though there was some variation among them and they did not all take quite as hard a line as he did.

We showed the films again to the teachers, and to all the grades in both the Schönhausen and the Roseville schools. The reactions showed clearly that each group within each school had somewhat different perceptions of the differences between the two schools, but they also shared certain perceptions. This revealed the nature of the culture of each school and showed how the cultures were formed both from common features and from differences.

Teachers revealed sentiments they had never been able to enunciate in interviews, sentiments concerning individualism, authority, control, achievement, responsibility, and so forth. And in the light of the biases of the “other,” their own responses made visible to themselves their own culturally determined biases.

This experience acted as a form of “cultural therapy,” which is the next topic.

The problem with Roger Harker and with the faculty that selected Beth Anne as the best adjusted child in the school was that they were virtually unaware of their own biases. They were operating with illusions about the reality that confronted them each day as they taught. These illusions stemmed directly from their own social experiences, both in their families of origin and in their social-professional lives. Cultural therapy is the process of bringing those illusions to conscious realization so that they can be dealt with in discussion and instructional experiences.

Cultural therapy first occurred to me when I worked with Roger Harker, and it is mentioned prominently in the first writing I did featuring his case (Spindler 1959). It lay more or less dormant through the years until the German and American studies brought it out again. In 1993, Louise and I formulated the concept further (G Spindler & L Spindler 1993, 1994a). [See also G Spindler & L Spindler (1994b), which includes our presentation of the concept and ten chapters by others, many of them our former students, on their experiences with cultural therapy.]

There is more to our careers as educational anthropologists, but these are the promontories for us as researchers. We also wrote a number of essays that were probably as significant, perhaps more so, in establishing a reputation in the field (Spindler 1997). The underlying purpose of all our efforts was to work toward equity, to make it possible for all children, irrespective of ethnicity or socioeconomic status, to receive a good education. Of course we were also interested in contributing to the developing understanding of the processes involved in cultural transmission.

Our careers in educational anthropology have been summed up elsewhere (Spindler 2000). We now turn to another dimension of our careers.


To Louise and me, teaching was just as significant as research. Everything about the research university militates against such a position. But Stanford did not mind if you still spent a lot of time and energy on your courses, as long as you kept up a steady flow of publications. We taught courses and seminars in both the Department of Anthropology and the School of Education. Students could take most of our courses as either anthropology or education. Our favorite course was Anthropology 001, Introduction to Sociocultural Anthropology (with nods in the direction of primatology and human evolution). We started teaching it in 1953, when Felix (Fee) Keesing left for the Pacific, and continued teaching it until 1992. Students could not take it as Education, but they could take it at either the regular level (001) or for graduate credit (101). Others taught it during that period, of course, and I do not speak for them. We depended heavily on audiovisual materials—films, slides, and even tapes from the field. Each week had its film, with additional materials added as needed to feature the particular culture case we were using. Fee remarked, in irritation, that we were “feeding them pap.” But he did not interfere with our doing it. Perhaps as departmental chair he was influenced by the growing enrollment in the course. With the exception of Introduction to Psychology, taught by the master, Ernest Hilgard, it was, for a while, the largest introductory course in the behavioral or social sciences at Stanford. The “case study” approach was much used in all our courses. This was not the casual use of culture cases to give the students some idea of what a whole culture was like. We used the particular cultures we assigned as reference points for the major generalizations and interpretations we wanted to make. For example, we assigned case studies on Australian aboriginal culture, showed films on the culture in its traditional form, and used, in particular, aboriginal social organization as a model for discussion of kinship. This might seem foolhardy, since Australian aboriginal kinship is one of the most complex known to anthropologists, but Stanford students enjoyed untangling the complexities, getting them down to their essential elements, then generalizing, with help from the instructors, to other kinship systems, including Americas'. And so it went with all the other aspects of culture and social structure. Our own bent was toward cultural transmission, socialization, culture change, and adaptation, but we didn't neglect any substantial dimension of sociocultural anthropology.

What was our purpose in teaching introductory anthropology (G Spindler & L Spindler 1996, 1997)? It was the same as that of essentially all other teachers of introductory courses, as represented in the American Anthropological Association publication on the teaching of anthropology (see G Spindler & L Spindler 1996): to broaden young minds, to make them receptive to diversity in human behavior, to take them past their narrow class and ethnic cultures. In other words, cultural therapy was the purpose. And it was the purpose behind most of our other teaching in anthropology and in the School of Education. Even our supposedly technically advanced courses in ethnography, and in psychological anthropology, had this, among others, as a basic purpose. Most of our colleagues felt that they taught content, skills, and theory. We thought we taught content, skills, and culture cases. And, yes, also theory, to broaden minds to surmount boundaries and barriers imposed by one's own socialization, even one's training in anthropology. I realize there is a certain arrogance implied by this position. Why did we think we were in a position to “broaden” other people's minds, to overcome their socialization, even to restructure their training in anthropology? This is the nature of the do-gooder, the reformist. One can only say that humility must accompany arrogance.

It all started in 1950 at Stanford. One day, John Bartky, Dean of the School of Education, walked into my office and said, “Spindler, I want you to teach Social Foundations (of Education) and Psychological Foundations next year. What about it?” “Sure” was the only thing I could think to say! John Bartky was an innovative thinker and a man of action (perhaps that is why he was always in trouble with his faculty). He, like Robert Bush, the director of the case studies project, wanted to see what an anthropologist would do with such an assignment. So the next year (1951–1952), I became a temporary assistant professor and taught those two courses, in addition to working on the research project and writing occasionally on my dissertation. Bartky's hopes were realized. After a cursory look at established texts for both courses, I resorted to anthropological treatments of various kinds and started collecting life history data from students, which I interpreted, with their help, as relevant both to the teaching role and to the process of learning. After all, the students were products of our culture and times. I taught those two courses for 10 years and I learned a lot about teaching in that time. Dr. Bush gave me the summer off to finish writing my dissertation (1951), for which I was most grateful. I was appointed a full-time assistant professor of education and anthropology and started a long career, not yet finished, in a dual appointment (education and anthropology, which in 1962 became anthropology and education). I didn't realize what hard work being in a dual appointment would be until I took early retirement in 1978, not to get out of the appointment but to free up Louise and myself so we could go places and do things unconstrained by an academic program. It didn't quite turn out that way in that we taught as much or more at Stanford and at other places, did more research, supervised more dissertations, traveled more, and in general lived the life of Riley (whoever that was) for a little more than a decade (until Louise started on her long decline from osteoporosis, congestive heart failure, and emphysema). I often wondered why I had so much more time, and felt so creative, and it occurred to me one day that it was because I didn't have to help run the university! I didn't do more than anyone else of senior rank, excepting that I did it in two places (education and anthropology). I served my time, if not with distinction then with efficiency, as departmental chair, for one long period and two short ones. One of the short ones (9 months) was in 1984, after I had retired.

There is more that could be said about our teaching career. Teaching was always exciting to us. Teaching a class always made us sit up and look at our data. We used our research in our teaching, but teaching informed our research as much as research informed our teaching. And we almost never wrote anything that we had not taught more than once.

Now I turn to our last career to be discussed in this essay—editing.


When Howard Chandler of Dryden Press signed the contract for the Case Studies in Cultural Anthropology (CSCA) in 1957 he said, “You will be better known as editors of this series than for anything else you accomplish.” This was a shocking statement to us, for we thought we would do some worthwhile things and we didn't expect the case study series to be particularly prominent. Little did we know that 40 years later we would have published about 200 case studies and that they would appear most places anthropology was taught.

We devised the studies in response to a need felt on our part for readable, relatively short “ethnographies” written by seasoned anthropologists about the places in which and the people with whom they had done in-depth fieldwork. The first six studies were by Homer Barnett (Being a Paluan), John Beattie (Bunyoro: An African Kingdom), CWM Hart and Arnold Pilling (The Tiwi of North Australia), E Adamson Hoebel (The Cheyennes: Indians of the Great Plains), Oscar Lewis (Tepoztlan: Village in Mexico), and Ernestine Friedl (Vasilika: A Village in Modern Greece). These first studies stayed in print for 40 years, and all but one are still in print. One other was commissioned, The Ojibwa by A Irving Hallowell, but the manuscript was lost. It was found in 1990 in draft form, in the archives of the University of Pennsylvania by Jennifer S Brown, a Canadian historian). Dr. Brown edited the draft, added notes and illustrations, and published the case study in the series in 1992.

We started working on the series while we were at the Center for Advanced Studies in the Behavioral Sciences in 1956. At that time, Clyde Kluckhohn, Alfred Kroeber, and Morris Opler were there (Kroeber was in and out), and we consulted with them, and with any anthropologist who came by. At the AAA meetings that year, we invited various anthropologists to our hotel room, furnished refreshments, and talked about what was needed in the teaching of anthropology. In particular I remember Ad Hoebel, Bill Stanner, Pete Murdoch, Pete Hallowell, Margaret Mead, and Ernie Friedel, but there were others. Pete Murdoch sticks in my mind. He was lying on the bed and suddenly leapt to his feet and shouted, “You've got to get the guts of the culture into those things!” And he was not referring to footnotes and kinship terms.

So the case study series got off to a good start. Holt, Rinehart and Winston (HRW) swallowed up Dryden, then CBS swallowed up HRW. Dave Boynton came with HRW, and no one could have had a better editor. He had good book sense and was very interested in all aspects of anthropology. He actually attended professional meetings in order to keep abreast of developments. He left in 1983, and we had a succession of others who were not of his caliber. Currently, HRW has been swallowed up by Harcourt.

As the surviving editor I am solely responsible, at least for the time being, for the continuation of the series. Sometimes it is not easy to decide whether I should accept a proposal or not. Anthropology has changed and is continuing to change. The bugaboo of essentialism haunts the operation. We have, I think, successfully avoided the label in all our recent publications, and as I look at the older ones it seems to me that they are reporting the way things were. But it is easy for authors to over-extend and seem essentialistic when they are not essentially so (sic!).

When Dave Boynton was anthropology editor, we also started several other similar series. Studies in Education and Culture, with 17 cases, was considered successful, but it never had enough users to keep it going. Studies in Anthropological Method, with 13 titles, was also well reviewed and regarded as successful, but again, there were not enough users. Basic anthropology units, basic units in linguistics, archeology, primatology, religion, kinship…eventually some became small textbooks, but others went out of print. But the CSCA keep rolling on. We started out, as noted, with only senior authors, but soon new PhDs became more the norm, though a few well-known anthropologists kept producing case studies. We kept on soliciting and developing culture cases, working with authors, trying to keep abreast of developments. Sometimes it seemed like a full-time job.

We engaged in a number of other editorial efforts as well. Four years as editors of the American Anthropologist

At the AAA 1997 meetings the SANA Graduate Student Caucus decided to develop a bibliography intended for graduate students as they prepare for comprehensive exams. It may also be useful for course preparation and beginning reading lists for post-doctoral scholars. We gathered bibliographies from graduate students and syllabi from professors. I (Jenell Williams Paris, Bethel College) compiled the lists into this bibliography.

This bibliography is not comprehensive. It includes the categories and citations which I received. So, for instance, sections on African-Americans and the Caribbean are fairly well developed, while sections on Asians and Latinos are fairly slim. There is no section for Native Americans in the United States, though I did receive a small section on Native Canadians. Also, a note that while most authors are trained as anthropologists, some are from other disciplines. I included geographers, historians, sociologists and others who are important to dialogue in a given area.

I think this bibliography will be best used as a guide for students entering the literature for the first time. It points to key works and key scholars in various areas, and if students use these citations as a guide, they will soon enter into a fuller scholarly conversation within their area.

I hope it is helpful! You are free to copy and distribute this bibliography. I welcome any comments.

Jenell Williams Paris (Student Board Member, SANA)
Bethel College, 3900 Bethel Dr., St. Paul, MN, 55112.


On Anthropology in the U.S.

Arensberg, Conrad
1955 American Communities. American Anthropologist 57:1143-1162.
Auge, Marc
1998 A Sense for the Other: The Timeliness and Relevance of Anthropology. Stanford: Stanford U Press.
Borneman, John
1995 American Anthropology as Foreign Policy. American Anthropologist 97(4): 663-672.
Cole, Johnetta
1988 Anthropology for the Nineties: Introductory Readings. New York: The Free Press.
DiLeonardo, Micaela
1998 Exotics at Home: Anthropologies, Others, American Modernity.
Dorst, John D.
The Written Suburb: An American Site, an Ethnographic Dilemma. Philadelphia: U Pennsylvania Press.
DuBois, Cora
1955 The Dominant Value Profile of American Culture. American Anthropologist 57: 1232-1239.
Eddy, Elizabeth and William Partridge, eds.
1978 Applied Anthropology in America. New York: Columbia U Press.
Errington, Frederick
1987 Reflexivity Deflected: The Festival of Nations as an American Cultural Performance. American Ethnologist 14:654-667.
Fitzgerald, Frances
1986 Cities on a Hill: A Journey Through Contemporary American Cultures. NY: Simon and Schuster.
Forman, Shepard, ed.
1995 Diagnosing America: Anthropology and Public Engagement. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan Press.
Fox, Richard
1991 Recapturing Anthropology. Santa Fe: SAR Press.
Fox, Richard and Robert B. Westbrook, eds.
1997 In Face of the Facts: Moral Inquiry in American Scholarship. New York: Cambridge U Press.
Goldschmidt, Walter
1995 The Unfamiliar in the Familiar. NAPA Bulletin 16: Insider Anthropology, E.L. Cerroni-Long, ed. Washington, D.C.: American Anthropological Association.
Hall, Peter Dobkin
1982 The Organization of American Culture, 1700-1900. New York: NYU Press.
Hallowell, A. Irving
1976 The Beginnings of Anthropology in America. In Selected Papers from the American Anthropologist. F. De Laguna, ed. Washington, D.C.: American Anthropological Association.
Harrison, Faye, ed.
1991 Decolonizing Anthropology. Washington, D.C.: American Anthropological Association.
Henry, Jules
1974 A Theory for an Anthropological Analysis of American Culture. In Anthropology and American Life. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, Inc.
Hinsley, C.M.
1985 Hemispheric Hegemony in Early American Anthropology, 1841-1851: Reflections on John Lloyd Stephens and Lewis Henry Morgan. In Social Contexts of American Ethnology: 1840-1984.
Holland, Dorothy and Andrew Kipnis
1994 Metaphors for Embarrassment and Stories of Exposure: The Not-So-Egocentric Self in American Culture. Ethos 22:3:316-342.
Hymes, Dell, ed.
1974 Reinventing Anthropology. NY: Vintage.
Jaffe, Alexandra
1995 The Limits of Detachment: A Non-Ethnography of the Military. NAPA Bulletin 16: Insider Anthropology. E.L. Cerroni-Long, ed. Washington, D.C.: American Anthropological Association.
Jones, Delmos J.
1970 Towards a Native Anthropology. Human Organization 29:4:251-259.
Kelly, Lawrence C.
19?? Why Applied Anthropology Developed When it Did: A Commentary on People, Money, and Changing Times, 1930-1945. In Social Contexts of American Ethnology, 1840-1984.
Kimball, Solon T.
1955 Problems of Studying American Culture. American Anthropologist 57: 1131-1142.
Lofgren, Ovar
1989 Anthropologizing America. American Ethnologist 16: 366-74.
Lutz, Catherine and Jane Collins
1993 Reading National Geographic. Chicago, U of Chicago Press.
Marcus, George and Michael Fischer
1986 Anthropology as Cultural Critique. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Mead, Margaret
1965 And Keep Your Powder Dry: An Anthropologist Looks at America. New York: Morrow.
Messerschmidt, ed.
1981 Anthropologists at Home in North America. Cambridge U Press.
Moffatt, Michael
1992 Ethnographic Writing About American Culture. In Annual Review of Anthropology.
Narayan, Kirin
1993 How Native is a “Native” Anthropologist? American Anthropologist 95: 3: 671-686.
Ortner, Sherry
1991 Reading America: Preliminary Notes on Class and Culture. In Recapturing Anthropology. Richard G. Fox, ed. Pp. 163-189. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press.
Peacock, James
1994 American Cultural Values: Disorders and Challenges. In Diagnosing America: Anthropology and Public Engagement. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan Press.
Powdermaker, Hortense
1951 Hollywood: The Dream Factory. London: Seeker and Warburg.
Rappaport, Roy A.
1994 Disorders of our Own. In Diagnosing America: Anthropology and Public Engagement. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan Press.
Spindler, George and Louise Spindler
1983 Anthropologists View American Culture. In Annual Review of Anthropology.
Stocking, George, ed.
1989 Romantic Motives: Essays on Anthropological Sensibility. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Strathern, Marilyn
1987 The Limits of Auto-Ethnography. In Anthropology at Home. Andrew Jackson, ed. London: Tavistock.
Trouillot, Michel-Rolph
1990 Good-Day Columbus: Silences, Power and Public History (1492-1892).
Varenne, Herve, ed.
1977 Americans Together; Structured Diversity in a Midwestern Town. New York: Teacher’s College Press.
1986 Symbolizing America. Lincoln: U of Nebraska Press.
Warner, Lloyd
1959 The Living and the Dead: A Study of the Symbolic Life of Americans. New Haven: Yale University Press.
1963 Yankee City. New Haven: Yale U Press.
Weiner, Annette
1996 Culture and our Discontents. American Anthropologist 97(1): 14-21.
Whisnant, David E.
1983 All that is Native and Fine: The Politics of Culture in an American Region. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina Press.
Wolf, Eric
1975 American Anthropologists and American Society. In The Nacirema: Readings on American Culture. Boston: Little, Brown and Company.
Zinn, Maxine Boca
1979 Field Research in Minority Communities: Ethical, Methodological and Political Observations by an Insider. Social Problems 27: 209-219.

Back to index

On Race/Ethnicity

Anderson, Kay
1988 Cultural Hegemony and the Race Definition Process in Chinatown, Vancouver, 1880-1980. Environment and Planning: Society and Space 6: 127-149.
Chock, Phyllis Pease
1987 The Irony of Stereotypes: Toward an Anthropology of Ethnicity. Cultural Anthropology 2: 347-368.
Gregory, Steve and Roger Sanjek, eds.
1994 Race. New York: Cornell U Press.
Harrison, Faye
1995 The Persistent Power of Race in the Cultural and Political Economy of Racism. Annual Review of Anthropology 24: 47-74.
Myrdal, Gunnar
1944 An American Dilemma. New York: Harper.
Sollors, Werner
1986 Beyond Ethnicity: Consent and Descent in American Culture. New York: Oxford U Press.
Sollors, Werner, ed.
1989 The Invention of Ethnicity. New York and Oxford: Oxford U Press.
Steinberg, Stephen
1989 The Ethnic Myth: Race, Ethnicity and Class in America. Boston: Beacon Press.
Turner, Terence
1993 Anthropology and Multiculturalism. Cultural Anthropology. 411-29.
Williams, Brackette
1991 A Class Act: Anthropology and the Race to Nation Across Ethnic Terrain. Annual Review of Anthropology 18: 401-444.

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Bourgois, Philippe
1995 In Search of Respect. New York: Basic Books.
Darder, Antonia and Rodolfo D. Torres, ed.
1998 The Latino Studies Reader: Culture, Economy, and Society. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers.
Rodriguez, Clara
1994 Challenging Racial Hegemony: Puerto Ricans in the US. In Race. Gregory, S. and R. Sanjek, eds.
Zavella, Patricia
1993 Feminist Insider Dilemmas: Constructing Ethnic Identity with ‘Chicana’ Informants.Frontiers 8(3):54-77.

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Kyeyoung, Park
1996 The Use and Abuse of Race and Culture: Black Korean Tension in America. American Anthropologist 98(3).
Lowe, Lisa
1996 Immigrants Acts: On Asian American Cultural Politics. Duke U Press.
Pitkow, Marlene
1987 A Temple for Tourists in New York’s Chinatown. Journal of American Culture 10:107-114.

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Abrahams, Roger
1963 Deep Down in the Jungle: Negro Narrative Folklore From the Streets of Philadelphia. Reprint edition, 1970. Chicago: Aldine publishing Co.
Baker, Lee
1994 The Location of Franz Boas within the African American Struggle. Critique of Anthropology.
Bell, M.J.
1983 The World From Brown’s Lounge: An Ethnography of Black Middle Class Play. Urbana: U of Illinois Press.
Blauner, Robert
1970 Black Culture: Myth or Reality?” in N. Whitten and J. Szwed, eds. Afro-American Anthropology. Pp. 347-366. Free Press.
Davis, Allison, Burleigh G. Gardner and Mary R. Gardner
1941 Deep South: A Social Anthropological Study of Caste and Class. Chicago, IL: U of Chicago Press.
Dollard, John
1937 Caste and Class in a Southern Town. New Haven, CT: Yale U Press.
Drake, St. Clair and Horace R. Cayton
1945 Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City. Reprinted 1993. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Du Bois, W.E.B.
1899 The Philadelphia Negro: A Social Study. Reprint edition 1967. New York: Shocken Books.
Frazier, E. Franklin
1939 The Negro Family in the United States. Revised and abridged by Nathan Glazer. 1966. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
1949 The Negro in the United States. New York: Macmillan.
1957 Black Bourgeoisie. Reprint edition, 1967. New York: Collier.
Gregory, Steven
1992 The Changing Significance of Race and Class in an African-American Community. American Ethnologist 19(2): 255-274.
1993 Race, Rubbish, and Resistance: Empowering Difference in Community Politics. Cultural Anthropology 8(1): 24-48.
Gwaltney, John
1980 Drylongso: A Self-Portrait of Black America. New York: Vintage Books.
1981 Common Sense and Science: Urban Core Black Observations. IN Anthropologists at Home in North America: Methods and Issues in the Study of One’s Own Society. D.A. Messerschmidt, ed. Cambridge, Cambridge U Press.
Hannerz, Ulf
1969 Soulside: Inquiries into Ghetto Culture and Community. New York: Columbia U Press.
Harrison, Faye
1988 Introduction: An African Diaspora Perspective on Urban Anthropology. Urban Anthropology 17(2- 3): 111-142.
Hernandez, Graciela
1995 Multiple Subjectivities and Strategic Positionality: Zora Neal Hurston’s Experimental Ethnographies. In Women Writing Culture. Ruth Behar and D. Gordon, eds.
Herskovits, Melville J.
1941 The Myth of the Negro Past. Boston: Beacon.
Hurston, Zora Neale
1935 Mules and Men. 1990 reprint. NY: Perennial Library.
Jones, Jacqueline
1995 Labor of Love, Labor of Sorrow: Black Women, Work, and the Family, From Slavery to the Present. New York: Random House.
Liebow, Elliot
1967 Tally’s Corner: A Study of Negro Streetcorner Men. Boston: Little, Brown.
Mintz, Sidney and Richard Price
1992 The Birth of African-American Culture: An Anthropological Perspective. Boston: Beacon Press.
Orsi, Robert
1992 The Religious Boundaries of an In-Between People: Street Fest and the Problem of the Dark- Skinned Other in Harlem, 1920-1990. American Quarterly 44: 313-347.
Powdermaker, Hortense
1939 After Freedom: A Cultural Study of the Deep South. New York: Viking Press.
Rose, Tricia
1994 Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America. NH: Wesleyan U Press.
Sandford, Mariellen R.
1987 Tourism in Harlem: Between Negative Sightseeing and Gentrification. Journal of American Culture 10:99-105.
Stack, Carol
1974 All Our Kin: Strategies for Survival in a Black Community. New York: Harper and Row.
Szwed, John
1972 An American Anthropological Dilemma: The Politics of Afro-American Culture. In Reinventing Anthropology. D. Hymes, ed. Pp. 153-181. NY: Pantheon Books.
1996 Call to Home: African Americans Reclaim the Rural South. New York: Basic Books.
Valentine, Bettylou
1978 Hustling and Other Hard Work: Lifestyles in the Ghetto. New York: The Free Press.
Valentine, Charles A.
1972 Racism and Recent Anthropological Studies of US Blacks. Human Organization 31: 95-98.

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Di Leonardo, Micaela
1984 Varieties of Ethnic Experience: Kinship, Class and Gender Among California Italian Americans. Ithaca: Cornell U Press.
Dominguez, Virginia R.
1986 White by Definition: Social Classification in Creole Louisiana. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers U Press.
Frankenberg, Ruth
1993 White Women, Race Matters: The Social Construction of Whiteness. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota Press.
Lynd, Robert and Helen Merrill
1929 Middletown. Harcourt Brace.
Myerhoff, Barbara
? The Los Angeles Jews’ “Walk for Solidarity:” Parade, Festival, Pilgrimage. In Symbolizing America. Herve Varenne, ed. Liincoln and London: U of Nebraska Press.
Peltz, Rakhmiel
1997 From Immigrant to Ethnic Culture: American Yiddish in South Philadelphia. CA: Stanford U Press.
Roediger, David R.
1991 The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class. New York: Verso.
Sacks, Karen Brodkin
1995 How did Jews Become White Folks? In Race. Steven Gregory and Roger Sanjek, eds.
Spiro, Melford E.
1955 The Acculturation of American Ethnic Groups. American Anthropologist 57: 1240-1252.

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Austin, Diane J.
1984 Urban Life in Kingston, Jamaica. New York: Gordon and Breach Science Publishers.
Basch, Linda G.
1987 The Politics of Caribbeanization: Vincentians and Grenadians in New York. In Caribbean Life in New York City: Sociocultural Dimensions. C.R. Sutton and E.M. Chaney, eds. New York: Center for Migration Studies of New York, Inc.
Chevannes, Barry, ed.
1998 Rastafari and Other African-Caribbean Worldviews. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers.
Hurston, Zora Neale
1938 Tell My Horse: Voodoo and Life in Haiti and Jamaica. Reprint edition, 1990. NY: Harper & Row.
Kasinitz, Philip
1992 Caribbean New York: Black Immigrants and the Politics of Race. Ithaca, NY: Cornell U Press.
Kasinitz, Philip and Judith Freidenberg-Herbstein
1987 The Puerto Rican Parade and West Indian Carnival: Public Celebrations in New York City. In Caribbean Life in New York City. Constance R. Sutton and Elsa M. Chaney, eds. Pp. 327-360. New York: Center for Migration Studies.
Laguerre, Michel S.
1982 Urban Life in the Caribbean: A Study of a Haitian Community. Cambridge, MA: Schenkman.
Mintz, Sidney and Sally Price, eds.
1985 Caribbean Contours. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins U Press.
Stewart, John O.
1989 Drinkers, Drummer, and Decent Folk: Ethnographic Narratives of Village Trinidad. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Sutton, Constance R.
1974 Cultural duality in the Caribbean. Caribbean Quarterly 14(2): 96-101.
Sutton, Constance and E.M. Chaney, eds.
1987 Caribbean Life in New York City: Sociocultural Dimensions. New York: Center for Migration Studies of New York, Inc.
Williams, Brackette F.
1991 Stains on My Name, War in My Veins: Guyana and the Politics of Cultural Struggle. Durham, NC: Duke U Press.
Wilson, Peter
1973 Crab Antics: The Social Anthropology of English-Speaking Negro Societies of the Caribbean. New Haven, CT: Yale U Press.

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Medical Anthropology

Balshem, Martha
1993 Cancer in the Community: Class and Medical Authority. Washington, D.C. Smithsonian Press.
Brown, Peter J.
1998 Understanding and Applying Medical Anthropology. Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing.
Carlson, Robert
1996 The Political Economy of AIDS Among Drug Users in the U.S. American Anthropologist.
Davis, Leonard J., ed.
1997 The Disability Studies Reader. New York: Routledge.
Hoffert, Sylvia D.
1989 Private Matters: American Attitudes toward Childbearing and Infant Nurture in the Urban North, 1800-1860. Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois Press.
Martin, Emily
1994 Flexible Bodies: Tracking Immunity in American Culture: From the Days of Polio to the Age of AIDS. Beacon.
McGuire, Meredith B.
1988 Ritual Healing in Suburban America. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers U Press.

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Class: Poor, Working Class

Auletta, Ken
1982 The Underclass. New York: Random House.
Burgess, Ernest W. and Donald J. Bogue, eds.
1964 Contributions to Urban Sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Jencks, Christopher and Paul Peterson, eds.
1991 The Urban Underclass. Washington, DC: Brookings Institute Press.
Katz, Michael B.
1989 The Undeserving Poor: From the War on Poverty to the War on Welfare. New York: Pantheon.
1995 Improving Poor People: The Welfare State, the ‘Underclass’ and Urban Schools as History. Princeton: Princeton U Press.
Leacock, Eleanor, ed.
1971 The Culture of Poverty: A Critique. New York: Simon and Schuster.
Lewis, Oscar
1966 The Culture of Poverty. Scientific American 215(4):19-25.
1966 La Vida. New York: Random House.
Lykes, M. Brinton, Ali Banuazizi, Ramsay Liem and Michael Morris, eds.
1992 Myths About the Powerless: Contesting Social Inequalities. Philadelphia: Temple U Press.
Nash, June C.
1989 From Tanktown to High Tech: The Clash of Community and Industrial Cycles. Albany: SUNY.
Pappas, G.
1989 The Magic City: Unemployment in a Working Class Community. Ithaca: Cornell U Press.
Peiss, Kathy
1986 Cheap Amusements: Working Women and Leisure in Turn of the Century New York. Philadelphia: Temple U Press.
Stacey, Judy
1990 Brave New Families: Stories of Domestic Upheaval in Late Twentieth Century America. NY: Basic Books.
Susser, Ida
1982 Norman Street: Poverty and Politics in an Urban Neighborhood. New York: Oxford.
1996 The Construction of Poverty and Homelessness in US Cities. Annual Review of Anthropology 25.
Valentine, Charles
1968 Culture and Poverty: Critique and Counter-Proposals. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Whyte, William Foote
1943 Street Corner Society: The Social Structure of an Italian Slum. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Wilson, William Julius
1987 The Truly Disadvantaged: The Inner City, the Underclass, and Public Policy. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
1989 The Underclass: Issues, Perspectives, and Public Policy. Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Sciences 501: 182-192.
1996 When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.

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Class: Middle, Upper

Blu, Karen
1979 Race and Ethnicity: Changing Symbols of Dominance and Hierarchy in the United States. Anthropological Quarterly 52: 77-85.
Goldschmidt, Walter
1955 Social Class and the Dynamics of Status in America. American Anthropologist 57: 1209-1217.
1974 Social Class and the Dynamics of Status in America. In Anthropology and American Life. Joseph G. Jorgensen and Marcello Truzzi, eds. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc.
Kottak, Conrad Phillip
1990 Prime-time Society: An Anthropological Analysis of Television and Culture. Belmont: Wadsworth, Inc.
Marcus, George with Peter Dobkin Hall
1994 Lives in Trust: The Fortunes of Dynastic Families in Late Twentieth-Century America. Boulder, San Francisco, Oxford: Westview Press.
McCarthy, Kathleen D.
1991 Women’s Culture: American Philanthropy and Art, 1830-1930. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Mills, C. Wright
1956 The Power Elite. New York: Oxford U Press.
Myerhoff, Barbara
1994 Number Our Days. NAL/Dutton.
Newman, Katherine S.
1988 Falling From Grace: The Experience of Downward Mobility in the American Middle Class. New York: Vintage Books.
1994 Deindustrialization, Poverty, and Downward Mobility: Toward an Anthropology of Economic Disorder. In Diagnosing America. Shepard Forman, ed. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan Press.
Odendahl, Theresa
1990 Charity Begins at Home: Generosity and Self-Interest Among the Philanthropic Elite. New York: Basic Books, Inc.
Perin, Constance
1988 Belonging in America: Reading Between the Lines. Madison: U of Wisconsin Press.
Shi, David
1985 The Simple Life; Plain Living and High Thinking in American Culture. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Silverman, Debora
1986 Selling Culture: Bloomingdale’s, Diana Vreeland and the Aristocracy of Taste in America. New York: Pantheon.
Veblen, Thorstein
1953 The Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study of Institutions. New York: New American Library.
Warner, W. Lloyd, M. Meeker and K. Eels
1949 Social Class in America. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Weatherford, J. McIver
1985 Tribes on the Hill: The US Congress Rituals and Realities. New York: Bergin & Garvey.
Weber, Max
1958 Class, Status, Party. In From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology. H.H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills, eds. Pp. 180-195. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Rethinking Family/Kinship

Collier, Jane and Sylvia Yanagisako, eds.
1987 Gender and Kinship. Palo Alto: Stanford.
Collier, Jane, M. Rosaldo and S. Yanagisako
1982 Is There a Family? New Anthropological Views. In Rethinking the Family. B. Thorne, M. Yalom, eds.
DiLeonardo, Micaela
1987 The Female World of Cards and Holidays: Women, Families, and the Work of Kinship. Signs 12: 440-453.
Ginsburg, Faye and Anna Tsing
1990 Uncertain Terms; Negotiating Gender in American Culture. Boston: Beacon.
Harding, Susan
1981 Family Reform Movements: Recent Feminism and Its Opposition. Feminist Studies 7:57-75.
Lipsitz, George
1986 The Meaning of Memory: Family, Class and Ethnicity in Early Network Television Programs. Cultural Anthropology 1:4:355-387.
Peletz, Michael
1995 Kinship Studies in Late Twentieth-Century America. Annual Review of Anthropology. 24: 343- 446.
Ragone, Helena
1996 Surrogate Mothers: Adoptive Mothers and Fathers. American Ethnologist 352-365.
Rapp, Rayna
1981 Family and Class in Contemporary America: Notes Toward an Understanding of Ideology. In Rethinking the Family. Barrie Thorne and Marilyn Yalom, ed. Longman.
Scheffler, H.
1976 The Meaning of Kinship in American Culture: Another View. In Meaning in Anthropology. k. Basso and H. Selby, eds. Albuquerque.
Schneider, David
1968 American Kinship: A Cultural Account. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
1980 [1968] American Kinship: A Cultural Account. U Chicago Press.
1977 Kinship, Community and Locality in American Culture. In Kin and Communities. A. Lichtman, J. Chalinor, eds. Smithsonian Press.
1986 A Critique of the Study of Kinship. Michigan.
Wallace, Anthony
1969 Review of American Kinship. American Anthropologist 71: 100-106.
Yanagisako, Sylvia Junko
1979 Family and Household: The Analysis of Domestic Groups. Annual Review of Anthropology 8: 161-205.

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Feminist Anthropology

DiLeonardo, Micaela, ed.
1991 Gender at the Crossroads of Knowledge: Feminist Anthropology in the Postmodern Era. Berkeley: U of California Press.
Epstein, Barbara
1981 The Politics of Domesticity. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan U Press.
Ginsburg, Faye and Rayna Rapp, eds.
1989 Contested Lives: The Abortion Debate in an American Community. Berkeley: U of California.
1991 Gender Politics and the Contradictions of Nurturance: Moral Authority and Constraints to Action for Female Abortion Activists. Social Research 58(5): 653-676.
1995 Conceiving the New World Order: The Global Politics of Reproduction. Berkeley: U of California Press.
Harding, Sandra
1998 Is Science Multi-Cultural?: Postcolonialisms, Feminisms, and Epistemologies. Bloomington: Indiana U Press.
Lamphere, Louise
1986 From Working Daughters to Working Mothers: Production and Reproduction in an Industrial Community. American Ethnologist 12: 118-130.
Martin, Emily
1987 The Woman in the Body: A Cultural Analysis of Reproduction. Boston: Beacon.
Peiss, Kathy Lee
1986 Cheap Amusements: Working Women and Leisure in Turn-of-the-Century New York.
Rosaldo, Michelle Zimbalist and Louise Lamphere, eds.
1974 Women, Culture, and Society. Stanford: Stanford U Press.
Sanday, Peggy Reeves and Ruth Gallagher Goodenough, eds.
1990 Beyond the Second Sex: New Directions in the Anthropology of Gender. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania Press.
Snitow, Ann, Christene Stansell, and S. Thompson, eds.
1983 The Powers of Desire. New York: Monthly Review.
Tilly, Louise A., and Joan W. Scott
1978 Women, Work, and Family. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

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Gay/Lesbian Anthropology

Bell, David and Gill Valentine
1995 Mapping Desire. New York: Routledge.
Duggan, Lisa
1994 Queering the State. Social Text 39:1-14.
Faderman, Lillian
1991 Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America. New York: Penguin Books.
Kennedy, Elizabeth and Madeline Davis
1993 Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community. New York: Penguin Books.
Lauria, Mickey and Lawrence Knopp
1985 Toward an Analysis of the Role of Gay Communities in the Urban Renaissance. Urban Geography 6(2):152-169.
Leap, William
1996 Word is Out: Gay Men’s English. Mpls: U of Minnesota Press.
Lewin, Ellen
1993 Lesbian Mothers: Accounts of Gender in American Culture. Ithaca: Cornell U Press.
1995 On the Outside Looking In: The Politics of Lesbian Motherhood. In Conceiving the New World Order: The Global Politics of Reproduction. U of California Press.
Newton, Esther
1993 Cherry Grove, Fire Island: Sixty Years in America’s First Gay and Lesbian Town. Boston: Beacon Press.
1993 My Best Informant’s Dress: The Erotic Equation in Fieldwork. Cultural Anthropology 8 (1): 3-23.
Weston, Kath
1991 Families We Choose. Columbia U Press.

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Cities and Suburbs

Caro, Peter
1974 The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York.
Castells, Manuel
1983 The City and the Grassroots. Berkeley: U of California Press.
Cronon, William
1991 Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West.
Davis, Mike
1990 City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles.
Harvey, David
1973 Social Justice and the City.
1989 The Urban Experience. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins.
Jackson, Kenneth T.
1985 Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States.
Jacobs, Jane
1961 The Death and Life of Great American Cities.
Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Barbara
1988 Ordinary People/Everyday Life: Folk Culture in New York City. In Urban Life: Readings in Urban Anthropology. George Gmelch and Walter Zenner, eds. Prospect Heights: U of Illinois Press.
Osofsky, Gilbert
1966 Harlem, The Making of a Ghetto: Negro New York, 1890-1930.
Mullings, Leith, ed.
1987 Cities of the United States. New York: Columbia U Press.
Mumford, Lewis
1938 The Culture of Cities.
1961 The City in History: Its Origins, Its Transformations, and Its Prospects.
Stansell, Christene
1986 City of Women: Sex and Class in New York, 1789-1860.
Wade, Richard C.
1959 The Urban Frontier: The Rise of Western Cities, 1790-1830.
Warner, Sam Bass
1962 Streetcar Suburbs: The Process of Growth in Boston, 1870-1900.
1968 The Private City: Philadelphia in Three Periods of Its Growth.
1972 The Urban Wilderness: A History of the American City.
Waterston, Alisse
1993 Street Addicts in the Political Economy. Philadelphia: Temple U Press.
1999 Love, Sorrow and Rage: Destitute Women in a Manhattan Residence. Philadelphia: Temple U Press.
Zukin, Sharon
1987 Gentrification: Culture and Capital in the Urban Core. Annual Review of Sociology 13: 129-147.
1995 The Cultures of Cities. Cambridge: Blackwell.

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Native Canadians

Alfred, Gerald R.
1995 Heeding the Voices of our Ancestors: Kahnawake Mohawk Politics and the Rise of Native Nationalism. Toronto: Oxford U Press.
Glavin, Terry
1990 A Death Feast in Dimlahamid. Vancouver: New Star Books.
1996 Dead Reckoning: Confronting the Crisis in Pacific Fisheries. Vancouver: Greystone Books.
Handler, Richard
1993 Fieldwork in Quebec. In When They Read What We Write: The Politics of Ethnography. Carolin B. Bretell, ed. Westport: Bergin and Garvey.
Long, David Alan and Olive Patricia Dickason
1996 Visions of the Heart: Canadian Aboriginal Issues. Toronto: Harcourt Brace and Company.
Monture-Angus, Patricia
1995 Thunder in My Soul: A Mohawk Woman Speaks. Halifax: Fernwood Publishing.
Mills, Antonia
1994 Eagle Down is our Law: Witsuwit’en Law, Feasts, and Land Claims. Vancouver: UBC Press.
Newell, Dianne
1993 Tangled Webs of History: Indians and the Law in Canada’s Pacific Coast Fisheries.
Phillips, Ruth
What is ‘Huron Art?’ Native American Art and the New Art History. Canadian Journal of Native Studies 9: 2: 162-186.

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North American Nationalism

Anderson, Benedict
1991 Imagined Communities. London: Verso.
Bercovitch, Sacvan
1978 The American Jeremiad. Madison, WI: U of Wisconsin Press.
Connerton, Paul
1989 How Societies Remember. Cambridge: Cambridge U Press.
Foster, David
1991 Making National Cultures in the Global Ecumene. Annual Review of Anthropology 10: 235-260.
Fox, Richard G., ed.
1990 Introduction. Nationalist Ideologies and the Production of National Cultures. Washington: American Anthropological Association.
Handler, Richard
1988 Nationalism and the Politics of Culture in Quebec. Madison: U of Wisconsin Press.
Hobsbawm, Eric and Terence Ranger, eds.
1983 The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge U Press.
Kammen, Michael
1991 Mystic Chords of Memory: The Transformation of Tradition in American Culture. New York: Knopf.
Siskind, Janet
1992 The Invention of Thanksgiving. Critique of Anthropology 12: 167-191.
Zelinsky, Wilbur
1988 Nation into State: The Shifting Symbolic Foundations of American Nationalism. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina Press.

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Adams, David Wallace
1995 Education for Extinction: American Indians and the Boarding School Experience, 1875-1928. Lawrence, KS: U of Kansas Press.
Alonso, A.M.
1995 Thread of Blooc: Colonialism, Revolution, and Gender on Mexico’s Northern Frontier. Tucson: U of Arizona Press.
Anderson, James D.
1988 The Education of Blacks in the South, 1860-1935. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina Press.
Apple, Michael
1988 Teachers and Texts: A Political Economy of Class and Gender Relations in Education. New York: Routledge.
1996 Cultural Politics and Education. New York: Teachers College Press.
Bowles, S. And H. Gintis
1976 Schooling in Capitalist America. New York: Basic Books.
Cohen, Rosetta Morantz, and Samule Scheer
1997 The Work of Teachers in America: A Social History Through Stories. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers.
Counts, George
1932 Dare the School Build a New Social Order? New York: John Day.
Davis, Allison
1948 Social Class Influences Upon Learning. Cambridge, MA: Harvard U Press.
Drake, St. Clair and Horace Cayton
1993 [1945] Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern city. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Foley, Douglas E.
1990 Learning Capitalist Culture: Deep in the Heart of Tejas. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania Press.
Fordham, Signithia
1996 Blacked Out: Dilemmas of Race, Identity, and Success at Capital High. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Illich, Ivan
1970 Deschooling Society. New York: Harper and Row.
Jencks, Christopher, et. Al.
1972 Inequality: A Reassurance of the Effects of Family and Schooling in America. New York: Basic Books.
Joseph, Gilbert M. And Daniel Nugent
1994 Popular Culture and State Formation in Revolutionary Mexico. In Everyday Forms of State Formation: Revolution and the Negotiation of Rule in Modern Mexico. Gilbert M. Joseph and Daniel Nugent, eds. Pp. 3-23. Durham: Duke U Press.
Katz, Michael
1987 Reconstructing American Education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard U Press.
Leacock, Eleanor
1970 Teaching and Learning in City Schools: A Comparative Study. New York: Basic Books.
Lomawaima, K. Tsianina
1995 Domesticity in the Federal Indian Schools: The Power of Authority over Mind and Body. In Deviant Bodies: Critical Perspectives on Difference in Science and Popular Culture. Jennifer Terry and Jacqueline Urla, eds. Pp. 197-218. Bloomington: Indiana U Press.
MacLeod, Jay
1987 Ain’t No Makin’ It: Leveled Aspirations in a Low-Income Neighborhood. Boulder: Westview Press.
Mead, Margaret
1950 The School in American Culture. Cambridge, MA: Harvard U Press.
Rist, Ray
1973 The Urban School: A Factory for Failure–A Study of Education in American Society. Cambridge: MIT Press.
Rockwell, Elsie
1994 Schools of the Revolution: Enacting and Contesting State Forms in Tlaxcala, 1910-1930. In Everyday Forms of State Formation: Revolution and the Negotiatio of Rule in Modern Mexico. Joseph and Nugent, eds. Pp. 170-208. Durham and London: Duke U Press.
1996 Keys to Appropriation: Rural Schooling in Mexico. In The Cultural Production of the Educated Person: weight loss drug phentermine Bradley Levinson, Douglas Foley, and Dorothy Holland, eds. Pp. 301-324. Albany: SUNY Press.
Rosenfeld, Gerry
1971 Shut Those Thick Lips: A Study of Slum School Failure. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.
Shor, Ira
1986 Culture Wars: School and Society in the Conservative Restoration, 1969-1984. Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
Vaughan, Mary Key
1997 Cultural Politics in Revolution: Teachers, Peasants, and Schools in Mexico 1930-1940. Tucson: U of Arizona Press.
Ward, Martha
1971 Them Children: A Study in Language Learning. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press.

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Aho, James
1990 The Politics of Righteousness: Idaho Christian Patriotism. U of Washington Press.
Ammerman, Nancy T.
1988 Bible Believers: Fundamentalists in the Modern World. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.
Diamond, Sarah
1995 Roads to Dominion: Right-Wing Movements and Political Power in the US. Guilford.
Ginsburg, Faye
1989 Contested Lives: The Abortion Debate in an American Community. Berkeley: University of California Press.
1997 Rescuing the Nation: Operation Rescue and the Rise of Anti-Abortion Militance. In Fifty Years’ War: A Half Century of Abortion Politics, 1950-2000. R. Solinger, ed. U California Press.
Harding, Susan
1991 Representing Fundamaentalism: The Problem of the Repugnant Culture Other. Social Research 58(2): 373-393.
Mead, Sidney E.
1963 The Lively Experiment: The Shaping of Christianity in America. New York: Harper & Row.
McLoughlin, William G.
1980 Revival, Awakening, and Reform: An Essay on Religion and Social Change in America, 1607- 1977. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Ortner, Sherry
1995 Resistance and the Problem of Ethnographic Refusal. Comparative Studies in Society and History 37(1): 173-193.
Peshkin, Alan
1986 God’s Choice: The Total World of a Fundamentalist Christian School. Chicago: U of Chicago Press.
Rose, Susan
1988 Keeping Them Out of the Hands of Satan: Evangelical Schooling in America. New York and London: Routledge.

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