When I'm feeling dickish I will often pop into my "Post-Modern Smughole" phase (or, P.M.S.) in order to review culturally relevant books in the style of academics and writers that I loathe more than, say, primal scream therapy with Richard Simmons. Now, the temptation was great with this excellent book, since it just seems to scream "Overanalyze my mostly textless profundity!" But I can't. I just can't. I got as far as drily setting my cappuccino to one side, feathering back my moustache, and coming up with the "new" po-mo phrase Histopia to describe this book. It is an account of what gentrification and overly whiting-out a city's past can do to a skyline. Take those bits of DC north of the Capitol. Swathes of Manhattan, like Harlem. Much of Baltimore's character. Cities drown in Starbucks, Barnes & Noble, and mustachoied, mocha-sipping, insufferable "young" people. Vanishing Seattle is a pictorial account of all the weird, groovy shit that used to pulse just beneath the surface of the city. Depressing and enlightening at the same time for, my god, Dave, what are we doing to ourselves?!