Although this book was published in 2000, anyone who's seen an episode or two of Miami Ink or LA Ink can tell you that what DeMello writes about hasn't changed in the past decade: with middle-class respectability comes middle-class constructions of tattooing, the body, and the self. DeMello showcases a number of these "tattoo narratives," almost all of which highlight:

1. the tattooed person's difference from "the type of person who usually gets tattooed" (inmates, sailors, bikers, gang members, etc.--basically, coded ways of talking about lower socioeconomic classes),

2. the amount of thought and consideration that went into choosing a design (reflecting middle-class values of independence and discipline, and the idea of the body as a temple that should be decorated thoughtfully, not desecrated with something lame like Yosemite Sam or Calvin peeing on a Ford logo), and

3. personally symbolic, often spirituality-inflected, readings of the tattoo itself (often involving something about a personal struggle or crisis, or imbued with other meanings that seem, whether or not the tattooed person is aware of it, to be taken from various self-help movements from the '70s and '80s).

I got a tattoo over the summer, and I will confess that I'm totally guilty of creating this kind of narrative. Reading DeMello's book, I felt a bit sheepish, to say the least, when I started thinking about how my narrative--while completely in keeping with the ones we've all come to expect from TV, the mainstream (and even niche, pro-tattoo) media, etc.--is inherently classist, inherently oppositional, and...well, kind of stupid. When I was getting my tattoo, gawkers in the shop would come over to the counter and ask, "What does your tattoo mean?" and at the time all I could think was, "Dudes, this is not Miami Ink or my therapist's office; I am not interesting in sharing with you." But what I was seeing as an unfortunate side effect of reality TV may actually have roots deeper in middle class American culture: "What does your tattoo mean?" could also have meant, "Tell us why someone like you would choose to get a tattoo."

There's more to the book than my own feelings of class guilt, obviously. DeMello does a solid job of grounding her study in scholarship about class and the body, and this is interesting both as a history of tattooing in the West (primarily in the U.S.) and as an anthropological study of contemporary American tattoo culture, the tensions within it, and how that plays out in stories and on skin. ( )

This is an academic book. It offers a very particular reading on the practice and culture of tattooing in the united states. It has the usual academic style with lots of footnotes (which would be much better placed on the page itself rather than the back of the book in my humble opinion) and a concise yet informative history of tattooing worldwide.
The analysis is very class based, and as such if offers a bit of insight and plausible explanations for trends and behaviors in the tattoo world. Tattooing in America has gone from freak show to working class folk art to middle class luxury, and all along the discourses of tattooers and tattooed people have changed to adapt to the ways and behaviors of these classes, sometimes even with big contradictions involved. A folk art once is presented with a cleaned up appearance to the middle class, yet, there is talk of respecting the "traditions" and so forth. This put a lot of things in context for me regarding the almost conservative stance of the tattoo "industry" and it's reluctance to receive members, the emphasis on educated art backgrounds, the spiritualization of the practice, the subtle differences in body images and uses between middle class white folks and working class sailors, or bikers. The subtle changes in narrative to justify body decoration. So, although the prose is academically stiff, the analysis is very enlightening. ( )