Becoming a case study: The Sopranos take academia.

When HBO launched a series about a family man who just happened to be a "Family" man in 1999, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Subscribers, it seems, were searching for a cutting-edge series that embodied humor, heart and characters willing to stop the humor by literally stopping hearts. Sure, the cable and satellite network had seen comedic success in the past with Brian Benben's hallucinatory romp, Dream On and Sarah Jessica Parker's headboard-banging tour of Manhattan, Sex and the City. But until the arrival of The Sopranos, HBO hadn't fared as well with dramas--and the network couldn't have asked for a show with more "Bada Bing" than this one.

The fourth season of The Sopranos (which is produced by Brad Grey Television and distributed internationally by Warner Bros.) began after an unprecedented 16-month hiatus, and along with the return of first-run episodes came a glut of new books that pick apart the show's every nuance, shot and line of dialogue. Not since Seinfeld spawned a similar flurry of books has a series so dominated the American popular culture that even intellectuals are seeking to ride its coattails to fame. More than a dozen books on this Mafia family have been published this year alone. Historians, scholars, literary critics and feminists are all trying to analyze their way into the public consciousness by probing the series' very essence--and what readers are discovering is that most of these authors have a bit too much time on their hands.

The Sopranos has arguably done more to inspire both the awe of the general public and the ire of Italian-Americans than any other show in history. A large and rather vocal faction of ItalianAmericans feel that the show reinforces the negative stereotypes of their people they've been trying to combat for years. New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg was even forced to bow out of a planned Columbus Day parade (a celebration which has special meaning for Italian-Americans), when Italians took offense that he'd invited two Sopranos cast members to join in on the patriotic fun.

A new book now seeks to explain what the fuss is all about. Edited by Regina Barreca, a professor of English and feminist theory at the University of Connecticut, "A Sitdown with the Sopranos: Watching Italian-American Culture on TV's Most Talked-About Series" (Palgrave Macmillan Books) is a collection of essays by eight leading Italian-American writers, including Barreca herself. The essayists wax poetic on such topics as the women of The Sopranos (whom Barreca admits to liking though her feminist sensibilities clearly shudder at the admission), the ambiguous role of Catholicism in the Mafia household ("the show needs more rosaries," writes Carla Gardina Pestana), and a dilemma facing many Italian-Americans in this era: "How Italian? How American?" queries E. Anthony Rotundo, a question many Sopranos detractors have themselves asked.

In fact, commented VideoAge editor Dom Serafini, "Catholicism serves the Mafia well, since criminals have an opportunity to repent through confession and then go back and do the same thing." Surprisingly, reported Serafini, the show was a flop in Italy. Italians were amused by the furor the series generated among Italian-Americans. Some Italian-American community leaders even tried to enlist the support of political and institutional figures in Italy for their anti-Sopranos campaign, but had little success.

"The Psychology of the Sopranos" (Basic Books), written by Glen O. Gabbard, a professor of psychology at Baylor College of Medicine, takes the route one might expect of an analyst, asking such questions as "Is Tony [the series' key character] a psychopath?" (no, he answers) and "Will Dr. Jennifer Melfi [Tony's psychiatrist] ever act on her [sexual] attraction to Tony?" (no, he answers again).

But if reading about "Melfi's efforts to form a therapeutic alliance with Tony" isn't your bag, there's Maurice Yacowar's "The Sopranos on the Couch: Analyzing Television's Greatest Series" (Continuum Books), which claims to be "a critical analysis without the dead weight of academic jargon." Some dead weight might have been nice, though: in Yacowar's misguided attempts to engage the reader sans scholarly palaver, he confuses Paulie for Silvio and then, inexplicably, outs himself as a Renee Zeliweger fan.

Criminologist David Simon's "Tony Soprano's America: The Criminal Side of the American Dream" (Westview Press), explores morality and social dynamics in The Sopranos universe. In his statistics-laden tome, Simon claims the show represents all the ills of the nation, asserting that "Tony Soprano represents a piece of our Jungian dark sides that has broken into the light."

Edited by David Lavery, "This Thing of Ours: Investigating the Sopranos" (Columbia University Press), is a collection of essays that examines everything from Tony's hefty frame to the objectification of women at the "Bada Bing," Tony's strip club of choice. It is a tad ironic that Lavery's in-depth study would come from Columbia -- Tony's daughter Meadow studies there.

Other recent releases include: "The Gospel According to Tony Soprano: An Unauthorized Look into the Soul of TV's Top Mob Boss and His Family" (J.B. Tarcher Books), which investigates the theology of the mob; "Gangland U.S.A: An Illustrated History of the Mafia in America, from Al Capone to Tony Soprano" (Time Books) which does just that; and "The Waste Fix: Seizures of the Sacred, From Upton Sinclair to The Sopranos" (Routledge Books), a book about, of all things, waste management. Even the New York Times is getting in on the action, publishing "The New York Times on the Sopranos" (iBooks), an updated collection of articles on the show. And of course, what show about Italians would be complete without its very own how-to culinary manual? "The Sopranos Family Cookbook: As Compiled by Artie Bucco" (Warner Books) dishes out recipes and party tips for an organized crime good time.

U.S. viewership was down this season -- a phenomenon that was attributed both to the extended hiatus and to lackluster plotlines But perhaps this complete oversaturation of publications was also partially at fault; a plethora of publicity has been known to backfire in the past. However, fans of the show shouldn't fret just yet. The fat lady hasn't sung. The end of The Sopranos isn't nigh. Relax a little. Eat some cannoli. Would HBO let its flagship show die a prolonged, painful, mob-style death? Fuhgeddaboutit.