This is one of the most disappointing books I have read in years; Smith's problem seems to be that he was fascinated by space movies as a 10-year-old and has never gotten beyond that stage.

The book reads as if it was a cut-and-paste Internet collection of everything imaginable that might relate to the so-called "Roswell Incident" -- supposedly the crash of a flying saucer near Roswell in 1947 -- compiled with a studious avoidance of anything serious, plus at least an occasional inexactitude with facts. One of the simplest facts he ignores is the US Air Force funding of "flying saucer" research in the 1950's; think of it, a 199-page book that totally ignores the only known research done on the feasibility of building and flying a genuine flying saucer.

Let's face it. New Mexico is one of the poorest states (I lived there off and on since 1967, as recently as 1996), with some of the lowest education standards in the nation. Albuquerque, where Smith is based, has one of the nation's highest crime rates -- the city has declined precipitously since the 1960's. You don't see states at the top of the economic and social scale claiming to see "flying saucers" that are driven by kind-hearted ambassadors who will rescue us earthlings from our folly. Like the 'cargo cults' in the South Pacific after World War II, such miraculous interventions are the product of a superstitious culture without much hope for improvement.

Roswell is in "Little Texas," not quite in the oil-patch but close enough to be infected. Except for the political boundary, it's more Texas in attitude than New Mexico. Smith misses this primary element of the Roswell area, and in general ignores the mystical "New Age" atmosphere of New Mexico. It's his major fault -- the book doesn't have a specific focus. It wanders from topic to topic like a bored TV viewer with 500 channels to watch, never stopping long enough to understand anything.

It's a shame. Smith tackled one of the most interesting situations in New Mexico, and turned it into utter boredom. Roswell, the 'little gray men," flying saucers and the nature of government coverups deserve much better.

I'm afraid Teddy Rushton is a little misleading with his review. He either doesn't read much, saying this was one of the most disappointing books he's read, or the author ran over his dog. I don't get it. To say that this book was pasted from internet information is absurd. This book is original from beginning to end. Little Gray Men isn't a history lesson about the Roswell incident, it is a look at the Alien culture that came after the supposed landing. I don't think Rushton got it. I'm not sure what Rushton has against New Mexico either. I've been there as well and think it is a very pretty state. I wasn't robbled or held up. Did he get a hangnail, a nosebleed? We don't know, but his personal attact on this author is not justified nor is the grade he gives this book. I found Little Gray Men comical and highly entertaining. Smith's look at the pop culture that has been created from the alien invasion of America is observant. I'd like to know when Rushton will be back in New Mexico, so I can meet him there and show him to a bookstore.

Believe, baby. Believe that the key event in all history happened on July 4 (or maybe July 5; sources disagree), 1947, and that most homo sapiens still don't know about it. Screaming from night skies outside of Roswell fell ... something. A UFO, stated an early radio report, man's first contact with extra-terrestrials. And our own government has stashed the bodies, deduced Those Who Believe.

So began Roswell's auspicious ascent to synonymy with a UFO obsession that would color conspiracies and entertainment for the remainder of the century. From the so-called Roswell Incident, too, Toby Smith's Little Gray Men takes off (hee hee) on a frequently funny pastiche of New Mexico's oddest socio-phenomenon.

Smith displays a Roswell known and unknown -- how many of the attendees at 50th Anniversary bash Encounter '97 had ever heard of formerly neighboring town Blackdom? -- on his tour through a pop culture mecca's half-century. Personalities haunt these pages with rocketeer Robert Goddard, sci-fi scribe Jack Williamson and golfer Nancy Lopez rubbing shoulders with nonplussed, bumper sticker-hawking locals. And even Governor "Toke" Johnson makes a cameo to state he knows what happened, but ain't tellin'.

Mr. Smith amuses throughout, admirably tracing public consciousness of Roswell from New Yorker cartoons to incessant "X-Files" subplots (subtract a few points, though, for omitting mention of a certain Chevy Malibu in the classic flick Repo Man). Over-embellishment is sometimes problematic, but wackiness definitely predominates.

And the Incident? That's easy: experimental military technology; nothing more, nothing less. Obviously.