Buford attempted to infiltrate these groups in order to gather a better understanding of these young men as individuals. He learned that most are uneducated and unemployed, and if employed, usually in menial, low-paying jobs. They are the dregs of society, without much hope of improving their station. This theme was continuous throughout the work, be it in reference to "soccer hooligans," or skinhead fascists.

By coming together in a loosely organized fashion, with a common rallying point, these men find their niche. They are no longer pariahs, but rather one powerful body. Then, this powerful body feels the need to exercise its new found strengths. It exercises its vengeance upon the same humanity that banished them from a respectable place.

Buford offered no answers the problems of societal violence, but did provide some reasons. Throughout the work he makes reference to class struggle and the discrepancies between rich and poor. No work, and no opportunity leads to a stressful situation. A boiling point appears and the pressure must be relieved. For many of the younger generation, the pressure is relived in random street violence under the guise of European football rivalries.

But I will admit to reading these tales with a healthy bit of skepticism. An American-born and bred editor of a sober literary journal gaining access to the very heart of these groups? It stretches the imagination.

I have to take Buford at his word, but I read the book with a very arched eyebrow. Especially the parts where he gets carried away by the goings-on and partakes in some violence himself. I laughed at that point; surely, not the reaction the author intended.

That said, it is useless and self-defeating to even attempt to apprehend what Buford writes of from an American perspective. We do not have a cultural analog to the English football firm.

This being the case, as a professional journalist with a background in anthropology, I can assure readers of Bufords work, that he comes as close to objectivity in his reporting as is possible. --It should be noted here that objectivity is a goal, something to be strived for, and not an end in and of itself, for it is ultimately unattainable. It is through the process of seeking objectivity, and not through its actual attainment, that we accomplish truly fine journalism.--

All of the above being so, it is my measured opinion that Bill Buford is successful in "Among The Thugs." While there are portions of the book that are cumbersome, do not read easily, for the most part it is a powerful and telling account of what Buford was able to find, one that is written and reported with the greatest degree of objectivity possible given the circumstances.

Read the excellent Barmy Army or Everywhere We Go (Doug Brimson) or GuvNors (Micky Francis) to read what really makes English hooligans tick.

This book is remarkable document. It pulls no punches-- I felt a lot of sympathy and kinship with many of the hooligans. They are simply people who are bored by all the trivial entertainment around us and want a more visceral and demanding set of experiences from life.

Their crime? Too much passion. Too much patriotism. Too much of a desire to leave the everyday world of dead-end jobs behind.

This book is much better than something like Fight Club. I recommend it to any amateur anthropologist interested in the modern human condition.

A far better book on this subject is one which is sadly not available in the US but is entitled Barmy Army by Dougie Brimson.

The first thing that is fascinating was his ability to "infiltrate" and gain the trust of the Manchester United supporters. This trust was not easily gained, but once attained it took him into several unforgettable situations.

Looking at the book within the wider scope of mob & crowd violence is an interesting point of view. Buford argues that once one person crosses the "threshold of violence" in a group then everyone feels like its okay. The larger the group is the easier it is to negate an individuals responsibility. He talks at length about the phenonmenon of the crowd taking on its dynamic and how the individual gets sucked into the moment and passion. Anyone that has ever attended a sporting event, a large concert or a street festival can surely attest to the excitement that exists when vast numbers of people are assembled. Add violence to that recipe of large crowds and excitement and you have a potential disaster on your hands. His tales of people that engage in violence as a form or recreation are befuddling and fascinating. Bufords writing draws you into the fervor of the crowd and you find yourself always wondering if "its going to go off." (A phrase used throughout the book.)

Aside from looking at the book in a larger sociological frame of reference, it is also quite enthralling as personal anecdote. Buford goes to Italy (twice) and all over England with a bunch of rowdy bruisers and other places in Europe.

It is interesting to see how someone with such a good education and an upbringing different from the other supporters (Buford is American) could so easily get swept along in all the excitement. He never participates in the violence himself (although some could argue repeatedly witnessing this behaviour with no intervention would be a form of violence) he eventually pays the price for running "among the thugs."

I HIGHLY recommend this book as a sociological study, a travel diary of sorts, as well as just a fine piece of writing.

I wanted to comment on the one reviewer that mentioned that he thought these things werent possible to get away with or that they are exaggerated. Either the whole country of England has got the rest of the world duped or these things really happen. Ive talked with several people from the UK that dont know each other and they all have stories to tell of things theyve either witnessed or participated in at football (soccer) matches.

Not only that, but this behaviour (which is only engaged in by a SMALL PORTION of fans) is a great source of embarrassment for the rest of the honest sport loving supporters of the UK.

What really bothers me about this book is the recurrent disconnect between over-the-top acts of violence and the consequences thereof. Bufords graphic description of homicidal aggression is never seen with a meaningful (i.e. consistent with human nature) aftermath. For example, supporters (the rabid hooligan-fans) visiting Turin, Italy, trash the city, leaving anyone in their wake beaten to a pulp, perhaps murdered; and then the next day, for all intents and purposes, the Italian perspective is portrayed as a sort of grumbling resentment as opposed to, say, murderous rage. In the most unbelievable episode, a supporter blunders into a party (comprised of police officers, no less), and assaults one of the guests in such a manner as to surpass your most deranged, paranoid and sadistic fantasies. In the next scene, the supporter rejoins his wife at home, albeit with a great quantity of blood on his shirt (la-di-freakin-da). I mean, how did he get out of there and then elude capture (believe me, this guy would be hunted down as if he were public enemy number one)?

But in spite of some wide credibility gaps, Buford chillingly describes mob and crowd dynamics, the creepy fascistic underpinnings of this scene, and the working class vacuum that is filled by this malignant sense of purpose. Im just not sure if I can believe it all.

Dick Singer, Dallas

Theres much to commend Bufords book. The portraits of the people he comes to know are pointed, vivid, and well rounded. Hes particularly able as a narrator of violence, carrying the reader along for page after page of his accounts of riots forming and then "coming off."

Much of whats interesting about the book is Bufords account of his own recognition of the inner thug, so to speak. When he begins his story, Buford is full of smug generalities and facile answers. Hes sure he knows who the thugs are -- young, unemployed, uneducated yobs -- and why theyre wild in the streets -- social protest. Then he begins to meet some of them and enter their social sphere, and realizes hes wrong. Many of them are older than hed thought, family men with children and decent jobs. Theyre not protesting anything -- theyre fighting because its fun. And as he gains acceptance among them, Buford realizes that he, too, feels an atavistic thrill when the combat begins.

English readers have suggested that Buford may have been taken in a few times by Brits having some fun with a gullible Yank. That might well be, but most of the book is an eyewitness account. Compelling reading.

As he relates his journey into the world of the yobs, we get a vivid picture of the people and the events, but no real glimpse into what is behind the football mob violence -- even after Buford spends most of the second half of the book trying to work it out. The only real insight were provided is that the mob becomes greater than the sum of its parts, and that there is a line where a person within the mob ceases to be an individual, and becomes a compnent of a greater organism.

However, questions such as why sporting crowds in the US, Canada, or other countries never reach the level of violence or mob mentality as seen in England are never addressed, nor are questions of why this sort of violent behavior seems to be limited to a very large degree to football (soccer) crowds. Of course, that subject is beyond the scope of any one book.

Still, the snapshot into the seedy world of NF members, jingoistic supporters, drunks and felons provided by Buford is entertaining, in a voyeuristic sort of way. Besides, unless you are intimately familiar with crowds at English, or any European, football matches, Bufords book is best if taken as a sort of superficial sociological travelogue, offering a glimpse into a strange land, complete with foreign customs, traditions, uniforms and etiquette.

Reading Thugs wont provide too much enlightentment on sports violence or the psychology of mobs, but it will entertain. And with the coming Euro2000 tournament, reading this may prove timely, as well.

As he relates his journey into the world of the yobs, we get a vivid picture of the people and the events, but no real glimpse into what is behind the football mob violence -- even after Buford spends most of the second half of the book trying to work it out. The only real insight were provided is that the mob becomes greater than the sum of its parts, and that there is a line where a person within the mob ceases to be an individual, and becomes a compnent of a greater organism.

However, questions such as why sporting crowds in the US, Canada, or other countries never reach the level of violence or mob mentality as seen in England are never addressed, nor are questions of why this sort of violent behavior seems to be limited to a very large degree to football (soccer) crowds. Of course, that subject is beyond the scope of any one book.

Still, the snapshot into the seedy world of NF members, jingoistic supporters, drunks and felons provided by Buford is entertaining, in a voyeuristic sort of way. Besides, unless you are intimately familiar with crowds at English, or any European, football matches, Bufords book is best if taken as a sort of superficial sociological travelogue, offering a glimpse into a strange land, complete with foreign customs, traditions, uniforms and etiquette.

Reading Thugs wont provide too much enlightentment on sports violence or the psychology of mobs, but it will entertain. And with the coming Euro2000 tournament, reading this may prove timely, as well.

From I true football fan. Enjoy

In simply describing these scenes, Buford is brilliant. Where he, and the book, overreach is in trying to determine why such seemingly ordinary people regularly go off the deep end. Bufords attempts at explanation are somewhat ponderous and, at the same time, superficial. Still, the stilted social commentary hardly detracts from what is an otherwise excellent read.

But..

He does seem to be a bit naive at times though, Ive never met anyone to back up the eyeball sucking story. Correct me if Im wrong...

Also, the book is a bit out of date now, no mention of organising via mobile phone. There arent mass rows on the terraces (what terraces? Greatly missed, no one sits down anyway!). A better book on the whole culture is Hoolifan even though its about Chelscum. Gardiner, your missing out on making some money here! Anyway, were in Europe and THEY still have terracing...

Come on you fucking Irons...

One last thought, we often hear that it was the average person that served as the guards in concentration camps, etc., well after reading this book I think it is the thugs who are described here, not the average Joe - so I feel better about the rest of humanity.

Bufords second technique, employed in the middle section, uses a more scholarly approach as the author relates the supporters behavior to the tenets of modern sociology, especially those that deal with the dynamics of the group or the crowd.

Although possessing a thoroughly interesting subject, especially for Americans whose sports are comparitively homoginized in the face of such thuggery, Bufords somewhat schitzophrenic approach takes away from the novel as a whole. When Buford immerses himself in the thug life, the reader immerses himself, too, thus providing for entertaining and slightly voyeuristic literature. Bufords sociology lesson is boring and repetitive, however, and the incompatible narrative methods keep the book from attaining its full depth.

In all, Buford presents an flawed yet interesting tale about a subject to which few Americans can relate.

I hope that the next book that comes out is by a policeman who had to stare into the eyes of 1000 screaming hooligans hell-bent on destroying everything in their path.

Have a nice day.

Mark Lewis.