Analyses of James Bond seem to fall into two categories: analytical or anecdotal. The former is the most common -- generally consisting of a look into such quantitative topics as what kind of cigarettes he smokes, how he prepares his martinis, and other easily categorized trivia. But such an analysis -- while thoroughly enjoyable -- never seems to answer the larger question that looms in everyone's mind: "Just why is this guy so cool?"

"Dressed to Kill: James Bond, The Suited Hero" does an admirable job of handling this question. Half a collection of essays, and half a picture-laden coffee table book, "Dressed to Kill" purports to examine the way 007 attires himself and how this has both borrowed from the heroes of the past and contributed to the heroes of the present.

Four essays on Bond are sprinkled throughout the book, written by authors like Jay McIrnery and Nick Sullivan. The essays range from rambling expositions of a boy's love for the hero his parents forbade him to watch, to an almost scholarly look at Bond's dressing habits and how this has contributed to the character.

But the real stars are the pictures. Compiled within "Dressed to Kill" is perhaps the best collection of Bond pictures this side of Cubby Brocolli's personal photo album. The pictures range from Dr. No to GoldenEye, from publicity stills to advertising copy, from black-and-white to color, and they neatly explain the mystique of 007 at a level that the essays never reach. The pictures have been culled from the EON Picture Archive and other collections, and each includes a knowledgeable quote explaining just what 007 is wearing and why.

While Bond receives star billing, the book does try to expand the examination to "the suited hero" in general. Non-bond pictures include such figures as James Coburn as Our Man Flint, Alan Ladd (he had his suits tailored to make him look taller), Humprhey Bogart from Casablanca (the predecessor to Bond's "tuxedo in the midst of chaos" look), and such anti-suits as Bruce Willis from Die Hard and Harrison Ford from Indiana Jones. In discussing the latter two, and Hollywood's eschewing of the suit, Neil Norman writes:

"At the same time, a curious thing happened. The suit wouldn't die. It simply transferred its allegiance from hero to villain. Paul Freeman's villainous Frenchman Belloq, in Raiders, confronted Indy in an immaculate linen suit. And the moment that Alan Rickman strode on to the screen to do battle Bruce Willis's slobbily attired cop hero, villainy meant tailoring sharp enough to slash your wrists on."

In and around the essays are picture-filled asides devoted to topics like Bond's three-piece suits, his sport coats, his naval style, and his tuxedo bow ties:

"The width remains fairly constant while the depth rises and falls, beginning with Sean Connery's 'Slim Jims' up to Roger Moore's velvet high of 1974, and gradually shrinking back down to Timothy Dalton's restrained 1987 version, before deepening yet again for GoldenEye."

"Dressed to Kill" is a wonderful celebration of everyone's favorite secret agent. If you can't tell an Armani from a Brioni, or if you can't tell in which film Bond's "lightweight suit, whose cut, along with the curled trilby hat, gives him the look of a traveling businessman," then it's time for you to give up your underwear and T-shirt look just long enough to get to a bookstore.

(Deane Barker is the forum manager for The World of James Bond on The Microsoft Network

DRESSED TO KILL explores the mystique of Bond in a tasteful coffee-table edition crammed full of rare photographs and enjoyable essays addressing the age old question of just what suits a man.

It wasn't until I read this book that I realized the profound cultural impact which the Bond movies had and have, and the deep and lasting impact they'd had on me, personally, and how they'd unconsciously formed the basis of my impressions of male style.

From the suited hero of the 40's, 50's and 60's (witness Cary Grant), to the styleless 70's (Roger Moore's mod Bond looks just a little ridiculous amongst the Jermyn Street of Connery and the Brioni of Brosnan), the suited antihero of the 80's (and his doppleganger the antisuited hero of the "Die Hard" and Indiana Jones ilk), into the 90's and the new millennium, this ultimately enjoyable book is a paean to the way we all want to look. Gentlemen, fold your pocket squares!

How many steps is it from a boy in a sport jacket pretending to be Bond to an Armani man carrying a slim black briefcase? Not so far as you'd think. Rate this one FIFTY GOLD SOVEREIGNS.

The pictures, most of which are black and white, highlight his early childhood and his rise to stardom, and then show him as a silver-haired gentleman. He had an interesting life, and him and his Rat Pack had some fun times. Reading this book helps me feel like I knew those times as well. He sure had style!

See the dictionary of "Rat Pack Lingo" on page 103 to learn the meaning of "charlies" "clyde" "harve" "ring-a-ding" and a dozen others. And who knew that Shirley MacLaine was the "Mascot" of the Rat Pack? What fun times they had! If you are interested in an era that is now gone, you will love this book.

The main thesis of "The Good Society" is simple: we, meaning American society, are no longer in control of our institutions. The authors define institutions in a broad sweep, encompassing economic, political, religious, educational, law, and international organizations and bodies (while curiously ignoring the media, the most egregious institution of them all because they help prop up all of the other ones). Only by regaining control over institutions, by making them responsive to democratic ideals, can we achieve what the authors refer to as a "good society." An introductory chapter introduces the reader to several individuals involved in daily life, from a woman working for a company facing a merger to a couple attempting to help the poor in an underdeveloped urban area to an economist forced to make cost-benefit analyses with people's lives. Each of these people understands there is something wrong with the way they do things and the results of their actions. The authors point out that this is because people no longer challenge, let alone recognize, the underlying institutions responsible for our lives. For example, the woman facing problems from the company merger does not think to question the underlying economic system that reduces her to a mere number on a piece of paper. In short, people consider institutions as fixed, permanent entities impervious to change.

Central to this theme of institutional chaos is an examination of John Locke's belief in the rugged individual determining his own future in the social and economic realm. The authors argue that this old belief is no longer valid in today's world even though people still cling to those ideas. Through an examination of the economic history of the United States, "The Good Society" shows how the emergence of huge capitalist enterprises at the end of the 19th century effectively blunted any hopes that an individual could control his destiny. Even more dangerous to the Lockean ideal as it appears in the modern consciousness is the realization that corporations are not subject to democratic restrictions. Unfortunately, many institutions imitate or act as a support system (again, the media being the most rabid supporter) to corporations in today's society, with a concomitant resiliency to the type of public responsibility required in a healthy democratic state.

All of this high falutin' talk sounds interesting to those who live and breath politics or believe that corporations are out to run the world. But the book goes beyond mere political discourse to include analyses on education, religion, and law. Time and time again, the authors discover a sense of powerlessness among citizens when it comes to dealing with public institutions. A chapter on education shows how students who should come away with a broad area of knowledge end up as stooges for the business world. The section on religion reveals very little about deep theological discussion but much about how to cope in a world run by elites operating with the agendas of profit and politics. What ultimately emerges is how little effect real people are having on any social system existing today. The individual is dead, replaced by Howard Beale's humanoids, creatures that look human but are not as we gamely try to keep abreast of our chaotic, soulless institutions.

The book concludes with some recommendations about how to restore sanity. I do not really want to insult the authors, but these points for the recovery of our institutions are about as useless as Saddam Hussein running for president of the United States in 2004. For any type of sweeping change to work in this society, a devoted and dedicated populace is paramount. Instead, we have some 200 million couch potatoes, work dodgers, and celebrity worshippers. As long as the ballgame is on television, the mall is open, and the car is in the garage most people are content to let things ride.

The biggest problem I had with this book was the dense language. It seemed as though the authors had a problem paring their ideas down to a manageable length. I personally do not have a problem reading a big book with difficult prose, but if the authors wished to stay true to their goal of informing the public about institutional problems they failed miserably. "The Good Society" is just not accessible to the general population. Many people I know would read roughly one page of the text and put it down in a hurry. How are you going to solve the problems of unresponsive institutions when people will not turn off the television long enough to realize they need to become a force for change?

"The Good Society" covers interesting ground, but the treatment needs some serious editing in order to reach a wider audience.

There aren't too many full page illustrations, usually 2 or 3 to a page, and I suspect the colors are quite muted compared to the originals...but it makes up for this in quantity and variety. It also includes a chapter on Chicano art, as well as an extensive bibliography by country.

Each chapter is by a writer familiar with the art of the country being discussed (most of them museum directors/curators or art history professors), and though the writing style may vary, it's informative...the print however, is painfully small, limiting its use for my eyes as a reference book, rather than one I could read cover to cover.

Three pieces I love are from Mexico: The incredible Rodolfo Morales' "Juicio Final" (pg. 15), from Cuba: Mariano Rodriguez' "El Gallo Pintado" (pg.91), and from Venezuela: Hector Poleo's "Los Comisarios" (pg. 142).