These case studies explore how competing interests among the keepers of a community's heritage shape how that community both regards itself and reveals itself to others. As editors Celeste Ray and Luke Eric Lassiter note in their introduction, such stakeholders are no longer just of the community itself, but are now often ""outsiders""--tourists, the mass media, and even anthropologists and folklorists. The setting of each study is a different marginalized community in the South. Arranged around three themes that have often surfaced in debates about public folklore and anthropology over the last two decades, the studies consider issues of representation, identity, and practice. One study of representation discusses how Appalachian Pentecostal serpent handlers try to reconcile their exotic popular image with their personal religious beliefs. A case study on identity tells why a segment of the Cajun population has appropriated the term ""coonass,"" once widely considered derogatory. Essays on practice look at an Appalachian Virginia coal town and Snee Farm, a National Heritage Site in lowland South Carolina. Both pieces reveal how dynamic and contradictory views of community life can be silenced in favor of producing a more easily consumable vision of a ""past."" Signifying Serpents and Mardi Gras Runners offers challenging new insights into some of the roles that the media, tourism, and charismatic community members can play when a community compromises its heritage or even denies it.

On January 9th 2014, residents across Charleston, West Virginia, awoke to an unusual liquorice smell in the air and a similar taste in the public drinking water. That evening residents were informed that the tap water in tens of thousands of homes, hundred of businesses, and dozens of schools and hospitals - the water made available to as many as 300,00 citizens in a nine-county region - had been contaminated with a chemical used for cleaning crushed coal. This books tells a particular set of stories about that chemical spill and its aftermath, an unfolding water crisis that would lead to months, even years, of fear and distrust. It is both oral history and collaborative ethnography, jointly conceptualised, researched, and written by people - more than fifty in all - across various positions in academia and local communities. I'm Afraid of That Water foregrounds the ongoing concerns of West Virginians (and people in comparable situations in places like Flint, Michigan) confronted by the problem of contamination, where thresholds for official safety may be crossed, but a genuine return to normality is elusive.

In Social Memory and History, a group of anthropologists, sociologists, social linguists, gerontologists, and historians explore the ways in which memory reconstructs the past and constructs the present. A substantial introduction by the editors outlines the key issues in the understanding of social memory: its nature and process, its personal and political implications, the crisis in memory, and the relationship between social and individual memory. Ten cross-cultural case studies-groups ranging from Kiowa songsters, Burgundian farmers, elderly Phildelaphia whites, Chilean political activists, American immigrants to Israel, and Irish working class women-then explore how social memory transmits culture or contests it at the individual, community, and national levels in both tangible and symbolic spheres.

Collaboration between ethnographers and subjects has long been a product of the close, intimate relationships that define ethnographic research. But increasingly collaboration is no longer viewed as merely a consequence of fieldwork; instead collaboration now preconditions and shapes research design as well as its dissemination. As a result, ethnographic subjects are shifting from being informants to being consultants. The emergence of collaborative ethnography highlights this relationship between consultant and ethnographer, moving it to center stage as a calculated part not only of fieldwork but also of the writing process itself. "The Chicago Guide to Collaborative Ethnography" presents a historical, theoretical, and practice-oriented road map for this shift from incidental collaboration to a more conscious and explicit collaborative strategy. Luke Eric Lassiter charts the history of collaborative ethnography from its earliest implementation to its contemporary emergence in fields such as feminism, humanistic anthropology, and critical ethnography. On this historical and theoretical base, Lassiter outlines concrete steps for achieving a more deliberate and overt collaborative practice throughout the processes of fieldwork and writing. As a participatory action situated in the ethical commitments between ethnographers and consultants and focused on the co-construction of texts, collaborative ethnography, argues Lassiter, is among the most powerful ways to press ethnographic fieldwork and writing into the service of an applied and public scholarship. A comprehensive and highly accessible handbook for ethnographers of all stripes, "The Chicago Guide to Collaborative Ethnography" will become a fixture in the development of a critical practice of anthropology, invaluable to undergraduates, graduate students, and faculty alike.

This anthology examines the origins, meanings, and enduring power of the powwow. Held on and off reservations, in rural and urban settings, powwows are an important vehicle for Native peoples to gather regularly. Although sometimes a paradoxical combination of both tribal and intertribal identities, they are a medium by which many groups maintain important practices. "Powwow" begins with an exploration of the history and significance of powwows, ranging from the Hochunk dances of the early twentieth century to present-day Southern Cheyenne gatherings to the contemporary powwow circuit of the northern plains. Contributors discuss the powwow's performative and cultural dimensions, including emcees, song and dance, the expression of traditional values, and the Powwow Princess. The final section examines how powwow practices have been appropriated and transformed by Natives and non-Natives during the past few decades. Of special note is the use of powwows by Native communities in the eastern United States, by Germans, by gay and lesbian Natives, and by New Agers.

On January 9th 2014, residents across Charleston, West Virginia, awoke to an unusual liquorice smell in the air and a similar taste in the public drinking water. That evening residents were informed that the tap water in tens of thousands of homes, hundred of businesses, and dozens of schools and hospitals - the water made available to as many as 300,00 citizens in a nine-county region - had been contaminated with a chemical used for cleaning crushed coal. This books tells a particular set of stories about that chemical spill and its aftermath, an unfolding water crisis that would lead to months, even years, of fear and distrust. It is both oral history and collaborative ethnography, jointly conceptualised, researched, and written by people - more than fifty in all - across various positions in academia and local communities. I'm Afraid of That Water foregrounds the ongoing concerns of West Virginians (and people in comparable situations in places like Flint, Michigan) confronted by the problem of contamination, where thresholds for official safety may be crossed, but a genuine return to normality is elusive.

These case studies explore how competing interests among the keepers of a community's heritage shape how that community both regards itself and reveals itself to others. As editors Celeste Ray and Luke Eric Lassiter note in their introduction, such stakeholders are no longer just of the community itself but are now often "outsiders" -- tourists, the mass media, and even anthropologists and folklorists.

The setting of each study is a different marginalized community in the South. Arranged around three themes that have often surfaced in debates about public folklore and anthropology over the last two decades, the studies consider issues of representation, identity, and practice. One study of representation discusses how Appalachian Pentecostal serpent handlers try to reconcile their exotic popular image with their personal religious beliefs. Another looks at how Cajun Mardi Gras customs in rural Louisiana have been sanitized for mass consumption.

A case study on identity tells why a segment of the Cajun population has appropriated the term "coonass, " once widely considered derogatory. One essay focusing on Native Americans shows how the establishment of powwows has helped the Haliwa-Saponi of North Carolina affirm both their tribal and wider ethnic identity. Finally, essays on practice look at an Appalachian Virginia coal town and Snee Farm, a National Heritage Site in lowland South Carolina. Both pieces reveal how dynamic and contradictory views of community life can be silenced in favor of producing a more easily consumable vision of a "past."

Signifying Serpents and Mardi Gras Runners offers challenging new insights into some of the roles that the media, tourism, and charismaticcommunity members can play when a community compromises its heritage or even denies it.

Explorations in Cultural Anthropology is a collection of readings chosen to demonstrate the varied and valuable applications of the anthropological perspective to real-world problems on local, regional, and global scales. It introduces undergraduates to the exciting, perplexing, and troubling issues that socio-cultural anthropologists confront in their work in academia and beyond. Students now have a one-stop source for a variety of key ethnographic and cultural materials without having to buy or search for numerous texts. Explorations in Cultural Anthropology offers 31 classic readings and contemporary anthropological essays as well as pieces written by journalists, scholars from other disciplines, cultural consultants, and community leaders. The selections are meant to thoughtfully challenge students and provoke further discussion within introductory-level classrooms. The book is organized into nine parts that reflect significant themes and current trends in cultural anthropology: Culture; Fieldwork and Ethnography; Language, Communication, and Expressive Culture; Socio-economic and Political Systems in a Changing World; Race and Ethnicity; Gender and Sexuality; Marriage, Family, and Kinship; Belief Systems; and Applied and Future Anthropologies. Each part introduces the articles therein and provides probing questions per article for student response. This outstanding collection perfectly complements Luke Eric Lassiter's Invitation to Cultural Anthropology textbook but has wide appeal for all introductory cultural anthropology courses.

Prompted by the overt omission of Muncie's black community from the famous community study by Robert S. Lynd and Helen Merrell Lynd, Middletown: A Study in Modern American Culture, the authors initiated this project to reveal the unrecorded historical and contemporary life of Middletown, a well-known pseudonym for the Midwestern city of Muncie, Indiana. As a collaboration of community and campus, this book recounts the early efforts of Hurley Goodall to develop a community history and archive that told the story of the African American community, and rectify the representation of small town America as exclusively white. The authors designed and implemented a collaborative ethnographic field project that involved intensive interviews, research, and writing between community organizations, local experts, ethnographers, and teams of college students. This book is a unique model for collaborative research, easily accessible to students. It will be a valuable resource for instructors in anthropology, creative writing, sociology, community research, and African American studies.

Collaboration between ethnographers and subjects has long been a product of the close, intimate relationships that define ethnographic research. But increasingly collaboration is no longer viewed as merely a consequence of fieldwork; instead collaboration now preconditions and shapes research design as well as its dissemination. As a result, ethnographic subjects are shifting from being informants to being consultants. The emergence of collaborative ethnography highlights this relationship between consultant and ethnographer, moving it to center stage as a calculated part not only of fieldwork but also of the writing process itself. "The Chicago Guide to Collaborative Ethnography" presents a historical, theoretical, and practice-oriented road map for this shift from incidental collaboration to a more conscious and explicit collaborative strategy. Luke Eric Lassiter charts the history of collaborative ethnography from its earliest implementation to its contemporary emergence in fields such as feminism, humanistic anthropology, and critical ethnography. On this historical and theoretical base, Lassiter outlines concrete steps for achieving a more deliberate and overt collaborative practice throughout the processes of fieldwork and writing. As a participatory action situated in the ethical commitments between ethnographers and consultants and focused on the co-construction of texts, collaborative ethnography, argues Lassiter, is among the most powerful ways to press ethnographic fieldwork and writing into the service of an applied and public scholarship. A comprehensive and highly accessible handbook for ethnographers of all stripes, "The Chicago Guide to Collaborative Ethnography" will become a fixture in the development of a critical practice of anthropology, invaluable to undergraduates, graduate students, and faculty alike.