Pocket Symphony

With many of my friends out at the Coachella concert in Indio this weekend, I decided to brave the heat for at least a couple of hours and go to the Los Angeles 2008 Festival of Books at UCLA. While it was cool to see some great authors and some neat independent publishers, the one thing that struck me most was how the celebrity of a writer is nothing compared to the celebrity of a television personality, even in a forum that’s theoretically devoted to literature.

I arrived there in the early afternoon, and I decided that the first thing I’d do was go over to the table where Ray Bradbury was signing books. Ray’s a living legend, and at 87 years old, he’s been a hero to several generations of science fiction fans (including me). So when I got to the general area where Bradbury was supposed to be, I made a beeline for the longest line… only to discover that the long wait wasn’t for Bradbury, but for… Valerie Bertinelli! I quickly whipped out my camera for a quick picture (hey, even I enjoyed One Day At A Time) and then found the Bradbury line, which was about a third as long. While standing in line for my signed copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes, I started thinking about the fact that Bertinelli, who has written a sum total of one book (which is a memoir and almost certainly ghost-written) is given the title of “author” just as much as Bradbury. I thought about the kind of things I might say to Bradbury (”You were an incredible influence on my life,” “Your ability to create an utterly believable fantasy world from whole cloth is a constant marvel to me,” “I credit you and a very small circle of your peers with rescuing a literary genre from the trash and raising it up to a new level of critical appreciation as an art form.,”…) and imagined myself saying those things to Valerie Bertinelli. Frightening.

I did finally get up to the front of the line, where I bought my book, said a quick “thank you” - no time for fawning fanboy stuff today - snapped a picture and left to explore the rest of the Festival.

The only other thing I wanted to do that day was to hear Richard Price speak and have him sign a copy of his latest book, but that was over an hour away, so I figured I would just explore for a bit. There was a lot of excitement around the children’s section - lots of publishers and toy companies displaying their wares, in tents which radiated out from a central stage, where kid’s favorites were performing. As I wandered through, I noticed a line that made even Bertinelli’s crowd seem paltry. I walked up to the signing tent and saw that it was for Disney Channel favorites Aly & AJ. The genuine excitement that their young fans seemed to be displaying as they signed their books made a little dent in my cynical heart. I guess if even one of a kid’s treasures is a book, the U.S. literacy rate will continue to stay at a reasonably high level.

Before Richard Price spoke, I went over to the huge Borders tent to pick up a copy of his newest novel “Lush Life”. I’ve been a fan of Price’s work since I was a teenager, and I’ve been excited to read his latest, particularly after the great New York Times review by Michiko Kakutani (which begins: “No one writes better dialogue than Richard Price — not Elmore Leonard, not David Mamet, not even David Chase. Not only does Mr. Price have perfect pitch for the lingo, the rhythms and the inflections of how people talk, but he also knows how to use a line or two or even a single phrase to conjure a character’s history and emotional vibe. He’s as adept as Tom Wolfe at using his journalistic eye for social detail — for how people juggle work and love and money, and navigate the confounding maze of class and social status in big cities today — but he does so without turning his characters, as Mr. Wolfe so often does, into caricatures or cartoons.”). They had plenty of copies of his book there, all for sale at the cover price. Even though I had a “25% off” Borders coupon with me, they wouldn’t honor it, because “We’re not hooked up with the main store.” Their credit card machine seemed to be hooked up just fine, though. I coughed up the full $26 + tax and went over to the tent where Price was going to read. His reading went well, his Q&A was informative and funny, and I was able to get the book signed and even share a brief anecdote with him (almost 20 years ago, when I was working as a clerk in Tower Records in NYC, I recognized him. He had just come back from Hollywood after writing the Al Pacino movie “Sea Of Love”, and he told me about his experience as a novelist trying to break into the movie business. It was a memorable and instructive conversation).

With dinner plans an hour away, and with two signed treasures in my plastic bag, I jumped in my car and headed home.

On the way home, while stopped at a traffic light at Hollywood & Highland, I saw (fake) Snoopy and (fake) Barney having a conversation. Without the bathroom breaks and handlers that costumed folks have in theme parks, I could only imagine how horrible it must have been for them among the tourists in the sweltering heat.

I admit it, I’m a fan of Flight Of The Conchords. The clever comedy of the acoustic-folk duo from New Zealand consistently entertains me. Their HBO show, which is basically a live-action version of their BBC radio show, was a surprise hit, and their EP on Sub-Pop was able to straddle the hipster label’s music and comedy genres, and even pick up a Grammy Award.

This past Tuesday, their full-length CD was released, and two days later (that’s Thursday, for those of you playing at home), FOTC was going to do an in-store appearance at Amoeba Records, the largest independent record store in L.A. (in the world? - maybe).

[A brief aside: I love Amoeba. I often jump to its defense when friends argue that it put other mom & pop record stores out of business or that they charge too much for used CDs. But earlier in the week, I had had two disappointing Amoeba experiences: I had visited the store on Saturday for "Record Store Day" to pick up a day-only 10" by Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks, only to discover that the 15 copies(!) that the store had received had sold out within moments of the store's opening, leaving me in a extra-crowded shop with longer-than-usual lines and no special sales or discounts - and then on my return a couple of days later, I asked a clerk in the video department why used and promo copies of the excellent DVD magazine Wholphin were marked at 5 to 10 dollars over the printed cover price, considering they're still all in print and available at book stores all over the city, and was rudely told that "that's capitalism, man." (By the way, if anyone wants to sell me a copy of the Malkmus "Cold Son" 10" - let me know)]

I figured that I’d head over to Amoeba and catch the show, which was scheduled to take place at 6 p.m.

I left work around 4-ish, and went home first to walk and feed the dogs (I know I should have gone straight to Amoeba, but that would make me an irresponsible dog owner - which is one of the worst things one can be), and then headed over to the store on Sunset Blvd. When I got there, there was a line that wrapped 3/4 the way around the block, and apparently, the store was already full (we were told that 1,000 people were inside). I quickly weighed my options (1.stubbornly try to get into the store, 2. go home, 3. go someplace else), and decided to go someplace else. I remembered that my friend Jeff, who, along with his wife Diane, runs the excellent Ocean Avenue Books in San Francisco, had suggested I pick up “The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare And How It Changed America” by David Hajdu. I decided that I would go to Book Soup (a terrific independent bookstore, also on Sunset) and see if they had it. When I arrived at Book Soup, an in-store wine and beer and snack party had just begun for 4 authors from Akashic Books: Mike Farrell (ex TV-star turned activist), Elizabeth Crane, Nina Revoyr, and Abraham Rodriguez. There was no reading, no autograph table - just a bunch of people hanging out and chatting. Very civil. Unlike the massive crowd at the record store, this was a more laid-back affair. I said hello to Mike, Nina and Elizabeth and chatted for several minutes with Abraham. Before he became a novelist and moved to Berlin, he was the leader of the punk band “Urgent Fury”, so we talked about music and politics and the European perception of the US Presidential elections. He was kind enough to sign a copy of his new book, “South By South Bronx” for me. I’m looking forward to reading it. When I went to pay for the books, I noticed that Book Soup also had a copy of the brand-new issue of Wholphin, as well as an autographed copy (!) of the new Julie Andrew memoir for sale. I hung out at the register for a bit, talking about alt-rock, Blake Edwards, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle, and Buster Keaton with the clerks (more on that later, I’m sure).

In retrospect, I’m not too disappointed that I missed Flight Of The Conchords - they’re playing two nights at The Orpheum next month. Instead, I got to hang with some cool people and pick up some neat stuff. Expect some book reports here soon.