Attack the Block: my vote for finest film of the year

These are such busy times -- non-stop, hectic -- but I was able to get out and see a very fine movie called "Attack the Block." Now, don't be turned off by the "aliens attack" set-up. The movie avoids that cliched, open world scenario in which all-powerful creatures vaporize Paris, cause tidal waves, bite the head off the Statue of Liberty and so forth.

For one thing, the alien creatures are earthy and highly kill-able mammal types -- hairy beasts that look like hedgehog wolf-bears, with some gorilla thrown into the genetic mix. The beasts don't have any death rays, just claws and fearsome teeth, which crackle and buzz and emit a strange blue glow like fluorescent track lighting.

For another, the alien invasion focuses on a single building in a dangerous London neighborhood and surrounding alleyways, trash-strewn fields, rubbish bins, etc. The aliens' combatants are mostly a group of young people who are well on their way to becoming thugs. The housing project houses three generations of full-blown and potential criminals: two older crime bosses, their adolescent henchmen, and, coming up just behind them, two little tyros who idolize the henchmen and are always trying to show them up. Stand this gang up against a group of alien creatures and you've got a truly novel fight to the death scenario.

I can tell that the makers of this movie put a great deal of thought into all this -- the hierarchy of the gang, and even the way the creatures interact with one another and what drives them to attack (which I won't reveal here).

The high-rise apartment complex is put to excellent use. I have a feeling that location scouts explored every nook of a real high-rise, considering every way that the garage underneath the complex, the tight and endless hallways, two creaking elevators, stairwells and skyways with perilous drops separating them, can be mined for suspense and shocks. They also though long and hard about all the things that scare us, and transported these old phobias from a 'scary woods' scenario to a 'scary city' scenario --the feeling of entrapment, disorientation, feeling pursued without knowing where you are, having to make a break from a safe zone while having no idea if something terrible is waiting just outside the door or the garbage bin.

All in all it was a wickedly clever film. Yes, it's funny, but it will also make you jump, shake, and spill your popcorn all over the place.

See it now, preferably in a nice, claustrophobic theater. I would recommend Haight-Ashbury's Red Vic, but someone told me that it just shut down for good. If true, this is very sad news.

Cactuseaters: back from my grand tour of the California Southlands (Santa Monica and beyond)

Don't count me among the Santa Cruzans who drive around with bumpers that say "We're back. L.A. sucked."

I, for one, enjoyed every moment of my grand Southlands tour which included Santa Monica, Westwood, Hollywood, Reseda, Tarzana, Redondo and Palos Verdes. Yes, there was a bit of sprawl, and yes, their was a bit of traffic (I almost got clipped in half by a Hummer, and had to rev my engine and drive like mad on the Rosecrans entrance to the 405), and yes, the place is humongous, but I loved the aspirational energy, the food, and the sense that I was putting every bit of my Driver's Ed training -- including all those "Red Asphalt" movies -- to the test. I went into a wonderful Bay Cities Italian deli in the middle of Santa Monica, and it was bedlam -- everyone clamoring for the same eggplant paninis and turkey Reubens. The struggle, the waiting, the clawing and shouting, made my sandwich taste even better.

We spent a good sized chunk of our time in Santa Monica, in a lovely rented house in a leafy, mostly quiet neighborhood -- I say mostly because it lies directly in the flight path of the Santa Monica Airport. The planes did not bother us at all, even though they swooped above us at regular intervals. I imagine it would be more of a problem if you lived on that street year-round and had to deal with the planes all of the time. (see the bottom of this post)

In the course of the week, I found that "nearby" highlights in Los Angeles are nowhere near each other, even if they look cheek-by-jowl on a Southlands map. For instance it took FOREVER to go from Santa Monica to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, but it was worth the extremely long trek. I especially loved the Zodiac heads sculpture by Ai Weiwei, now on exhibit at the Broad Contemporary Art Museum at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. The heads – a rooster, a pig, a dragon, and a toothy sheep, among others –were beautiful and unsettling. All of them stare down from six foot spikes, and bare their teeth. They stand in judgment of the viewer. I read that Wei Wei based this sculpture on a looted work of art, erected in China by Jesuits and and pillaged by invading French and British forces in 1860. Most of the animal heads in that garden – save for the ones that inspired the animal heads in Wei Wei’s magisterial work, were carted off or destroyed. “You can scarcely imagine the beauty and magnificence of the place we burnt,” lamented the regretful Charles George Gordon, the British captain who led the mission.

The Broad museum itself was another surprise; a series of escalators (like the ones at the Pompidou) deposit you on the top floor. It's a bit like a fun house; enormous dinner plates that spin and threaten to topple over on you when your circle around them, Jeff Koons' larger-than-life Michael and Bubbles sculpture, and, on the first floor, a Richard Serra installation called "Band" that overwhelms with its scale and grace.

Incidentally, I was saddened but not entirely surprised to hear that a plane actually crashed right near where we were staying -- on the same block of the same street, no less.

(Fortunately, no one was seriously injured in that crash. Still, these good folks should think about moving the airport some place else. I guess the other alternative is moving the houses, but that would be harder.)

"Someone I'd Like You To Meet" author profile

I know my three readers keep checking for new content (I can see you from here). I am working on a piece about my journey to Los Angeles, but meanwhile here is an interesting profile. Also, in the unlikely event that you've never heard of them, I love these literary blogs: The Millions, Bookslut, and The Rumpus.

Emilio Estevez's new mainstream movie about a long-distance trail (and it's not the PCT!)

This just in. Someone just sent me a link to a preview about a movie starring Martin Sheen, and directed by his son, Emilio Estevez (remember Repo Man?) concerning a certain famous long-distance hiking trail. But it's not about the PCT, and it's not about the Appalachian Trail, either.

If you're all out of guesses, go ahead and watch the trailer. Anyhow, if you're reading this, and you feel like making a movie out of you-know-what, you know how to reach me. Forgot to mention that three Hollywood screenwriters contacted me when it first came out, hoping to get it made into a movie, but I guess these things take time. And lots of financing, too. Anyhow, you have to wonder if this is going to be first in a pack of "do the trail" movies, or if it's just a one-off. I think long-distance trails would be good movie subjects and backgrounds, with the potential for conflict, loose bands of friends, odd coincidences, animal attacks, etc. On the down side, it would be mighty hard to haul decent equipment up and over all those danged passes.

Southern California bound

... just for a little while. Please send me your dining recommendations.

Welcome back, and read these next

I hope you all had a good trip. I honestly think you'll enjoy Family Fang by Kevin Wilson. Deadpan, sometimes blood-curling, surprisingly good-humored. Performance art and fame are the "lenses" into loopy family life. The potato-gun scene is an all-time classic. Can't get enough of Lynda Barry's Picture This, which brings me back to the days of purposeless (and therefore blissful) creation. It is, mostly, a picture book but I think you will like it anyhow. I've read it three times so far. I also read Robin Black's If I Loved You I Would Tell You This with admiration. Aside from that, I'm pretty fired up about One Day I Will Write About This Place, by Binyavanga Wainana, which I've only just started.

Anyhow, I hope you brought us back some Hungarian sausages and perhaps a few containers of stroopwafels. I'm hungry right now; I could really eat them.

Someone I'd Like You to Meet in the Atlantic Monthly

Normally, I hesitate to brag about the achievements of writing friends because it makes me feel a bit like Cartman in the South Park Movie: "Yes, that's right, I saw the Terrance and Phillip movie. Now who wants to touch me?" But I'll make an exception in this case, because it's a great story and I want you to read it. The name of the story is "Someone I'd Like You To Meet." The author is Santa Cruz's own Elizabeth McKenzie, who is a Kresge lecturer at UCSC. Here is the story, right here.

Cat massage link, and apologies for accidentally deleting a bunch of my postings

Um ... I never have any idea if people are actually reading this blog unless I erase something accidentally, and then, suddenly, I get lots of complaints. Sorry. I will try to restore the things I erased by mistake. Must have pressed the wrong darned button.

By the way, someone just asked me to publish this goofy link about massaging cats properly. Wow -- I had no idea there were time-tested techniques for such a thing. To be honest, I think this link is kind of weird, although I thought the feline facial exfoliation part was pretty hilarious.

By the way, I used to have a "spyware" program that gave me IPO addresses of people who read this blog regularly and told me where the "hits" are coming from but I got bored with it so I unsubscribed. In other words, I have no way of knowing who is tuning in. In other words, if you want to be a blog stalker, go right ahead.

Building pop-star golems out of vintage threads: Jay Kang on Amy Winehouse

Jay Kang (an outstanding writer whose first book will be coming out next year) penned this sad, thought-provoking essay about the late Amy Winehouse.

More info (and book cover picture) of 36 Hours book

Here is the snazzy cover for that upcoming book (I like the tassels hanging out of it like little tongues) and a link to some info about the content.

Stop writing books!

I love reading books (and writing) and yet I found this Bill Keller article perversely comforting, especially the part about making bail.

What would Falstaff wear? (and how about the Tavern Tarts?)

Sir John Falstaff is a boozer, a braggart, and a womanizing slob. He claims he can fight 50 men at a time, but flees from any hint of danger. He says his waistline was once as slender as an eagle's talon. Now his stomach threatens to pop out of his shirt. Still, he's very fond of himself.

Falstaff is one of Shakespeare's richest characters, but the great playwright had surprisingly little to say about his costume, or the clothes of any other character.

How would such a vain and dissipated man dress himself? What would those clothes say about Falstaff's past, his view of himself, and how he wants others to see him?

Such questions drive costume designer B. Modern as she puts together the clothes for Shakespeare Santa Cruz's upcoming production of Henry IV, Part One, which opens August 5 at the Mainstage Theater on campus.

Read the full story here

Pieces of memory: Alice LaPlante's Turn of Mind

You (my one reader) have carped.

You claim that I'm giving you too many dark and unsettling book recommendations. Too much old age (Emily Alone), too much bigamy (Silver Sparrow) and romantic regret (Say Her Name.).

Well, here's another dark one, but maybe you should read something uplifting and zany before making your descent into Alice LaPlante's Turn of Mind, a novel written from the perspective of a former surgeon, long retired and speaking through the clouds of advanced Alzheimer's.

This is a story about an aging woman's "half state" existence, and her "life in the shadows.'' Does this sound like a bummer to you? All I know is that I'm hooked.

I just started reading Turn of Mind this week; that's why I had to (politely) shush someone in the audience at the Capitola Book Cafe, where LaPlante read on Thursday evening; I feared she was about to spoil the ending. Don't look for chapters here; LaPlante wrote this book in short blocks of prose with ominous white spaces between them; it's like looking at rocks through a fog. LaPlante's reading was unsettling; you get a strong sense of disorientation and unfamiliar faces. You sense the former doctor casting her clinical eye on details she never noticed before; she's held onto her analytical powers, even as her mind erases its own memory cues. The doctor must delve into her surviving memories, and her notebooks, to help her understand why people react to her so strangely. "I bitterly accept that I'm famous, beloved even, among strangers," she says, "a legend in my own mind."

LaPlante, the author of several well-regarded texts about the writing process, could have chosen any number of ways-in for this novel, but she threw herself into the story by writing from the perspective of Dr. Jennifer White. This created a challenge: how do you get inside such a character's mind without leaving your readers confused and left behind? LaPlante solved this problem by drawing freely from the "unreliable narrator" tradition (at the Book Cafe, she mentioned Nabakov's brilliant but morally suspect Humbert Humbert in Lolita, and Ken Kesey's hallucination-prone "Chief" Bromden in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.) Like Nabakov and Kesey, LaPlante makes sure to leave some touchstones to help the reader. Though the main character's grip on reality loosens throughout the story, LaPlante is kind enough to leave a few reliable sources for us: some notebook entries, written before the onset of White's dementia, and a cast of supporting characters who (unlike White herself) can be taken at their word.

By the way, if my recommendations are making you sad, you can always send a funny recommendation. I'm open to suggestions, but I won't blog about it unless I like it.

Oodles of baked goods for Santa Cruz doggie

I have it on good authority that a certain local dog owner takes his fuzzy friend to The Buttery and feeds it a warm croissant every week.

My eyewitness saw the whole thing.

"He leaned over and gave the dog half," she said. "It seemed like it went down in one bite."

This doesn't sound like a good idea. Wouldn't a dog react to a rich puff pastry in disgusting ways? The people over at Answers.com addressed the issue in a recent posting. Their verdict is this: "Yes dogs can eat croissants, but i wouldn't recommend feeding them croissants regularly, on occasions as a treat would be fine but dog food or treats are better." Wow. That is one of the most horribly written sentences I've read in a long while!

Anyhow, you'll never guess the breed of dog.

Read this next: Tayari Jones, Silver Sparrow

First of all, I am glad you liked Emily Alone. That is good to hear. Now, the one to read is Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones. The book is a pitcher plant. You just fall right into it, right from the beginning, and you never get a chance to escape. After a while, you dissolve. OK -- block that metaphor -- but it's nice to see a literary work that consumes you like this. One other thing -- I like the way it hauls the problems that drive the story into the light, but it doesn't try to solve them all like some cheesy ABC After School Special. It does what a good story should do -- shines a light on human lives and situations, and when the book ends, the characters go on living without your help. In several instances, I wanted to intervene -- help these people out -- and then I remembered that she made it up.

"Why are all the other drivers honking and waving their hands at me?"

"Why are all the other drivers honking and waving their hands at me right now? Why are they tailgating me and flashing their lights? There's a guy driving close to my bumper now, and he's mouthing out something but I can't understand what he's saying.

Why is he so upset?

People keep swerving out of my way. What am I doing wrong?

Geez. I guess I'd better stop typing this and put my hands back on the steering wheel."

French Cactus Eaters

Thanks to Mr. Victor White for contributing this theme-appropriate photo, taken during a visit to Paris.

(this is part of reruns, series five. Working on a new post about Amy Stewart and the new Wicked Plants exhibit, but it's taking me a long, long time. don't rush me.)

Graduate student takes 40 years to earn his Ph.D.

Sometimes I hear people complain about taking seven or eight years out of their lives to go to graduate school.

And then there's this guy. When he started working toward his Ph.D., Nixon was still in office, the Beatles had only just broken up, Jim Morrison was still alive, and "All in the Family" was the number-one TV program. I think it's good to remember, in this era of instant gratification, that worthwhile goals can take a long (long!) time... I was so surprised by his story that I decided to write something about it. Here's my recent posting:

Earning an advanced degree can seem to take forever.

In the case of one recent UCSC graduate, it almost did.

History of Consciousness Program grad Peter Miller received his Ph.D. last week at the Graduate Division commencement ceremony. It took him 40 years.

"I'm probably the person who has the record of how long it took to complete a doctoral degree (at UCSC)," said Miller, 66, who lined up with a crowd of students, some of them as much as four decades younger than him, last week at the Graduate Division commencement ceremony on the East Field.

Technically speaking, he's been pursuing his UCSC advanced degree in political theory and community technology since 1971. Back in 1975, he wrote his qualifying essay and passed his oral examination. All that remained was to write his dissertation.

Why did it take so long? Read the rest of the story here:

Coming soon: The New York Times 36 Hours: 150 Weekends in the USA & Canada

This just in. Someone just sent me the Amazon link to the upcoming The New York Times 36 Hours book, published by Taschen and containing updated and expanded versions of two of my travel columns. I'm really excited about this, although it seems (from the Amazon thread) that it won't be hitting the shelves of your local store until early October or so.

Rose Harden's Life-Sized Mouse Trap

I just found out about this. Remember that game, Mousetrap, involving a highly complex, Rube Goldberg-esque contraption? Rose has undertaken an enormous, human-sized version of this game. I've never seen anything quite like this. The accordions are a great touch, too.

Read this next, anonymous: David Bezmogis, The Free World

A group of Jewish emigrants from Latvia passes some time in Rome while waiting for the next way station in their lives. America, perhaps, or maybe Canada. Doesn't this sound like the recipe for a truly shmaltzy novel?In lesser hands, it would be, but this work of diaspora fiction is field-stripped of sentimentality. You will wait, patiently, for the stodgy old patriarch, Samuil, to reveal the tenderness within. You keep thinking he's going to redeem himself with an adorable gesture, or some unsolicited act of generosity. It never happens. You keep waiting for nostalgia, and the novel's romantic setting, to overwhelm the story. It never does. This must be the least sentimental story about the immigrant experience that I've ever read. You get the overwhelming impression that life, for these people, was a real struggle. Every day they face moral compromises. Rome is an in-between place for them in more ways than one. The characters must deal with challenges to their various loyalties: spouses, countries, political groups, parents. There is nothing cute or sweet about this extended family. The story is spare and unsparing.

But unsentimental does not mean devoid of feeling. In this debut novel, there is a palpable sense of yearning for a better time that never really existed.

I admired these characters just for getting by.

The Atherton Book Club: Packing For Mars and much more

Last year I was proud to be the inaugural author featured in the brand-new Atherton Book Club, otherwise known as Reading In Good Company. Now the book club continues with a whole new lineup of great events. Book Club leader Annie Pena tells me that Mary will be participating via Skype during the June 14 meeting about Roach's latest book, Packing For Mars.Even if you don't live on the Peninsula, this is worth the drive. (Mothra/Godzilla photo from Toho Archives.)

"I'll just try to eat around it" --- (never eat an apricot with a hole in it)

Just got back from a Santa Cruz-area farmer's market, where I paid $5 a pound for fancy apricots. One of them looked so good that I started eating it in spite of the obvious hole in it. "I'll just eat around it," I said to myself.

So there I was, chomping away, but when I got to the pit, there was a fat, juicy, disgusting earwig sitting in the middle of that apricot, clacking its mandibles, wiggling its antenna, with a "what the &%$@ are you looking at?" expression on its face.

The weird thing is, the bug was so much bigger than the hole it must have crawled into to go inside the apricot in the first place. I guess he hung out there for a while, eating the inside of the apricot and getting so fat that he couldn't get out again, like the squirrel protagonist in Timmy Tiptoes. Next time I'll stick with the nectarines.

Rise of the Slug: the once-subversive banana slug mascot turns 25 at UCSC

At the bottom of this blog entry, you will find a link to my brief cultural history of the UCSC Banana Slug, published on UCSC's news page. Just so you know, the slug mascot turns 25 this year. As I mention in my story, the slug is popular now but it used to be a counter-cultural upstart, caught in a rivalry with another animal that wanted to represent UCSC. To find out which animal I'm talking about, you'll just have to click on that link and read the whole thing.

As part of my due diligence for this story, I asked for (and received) permission from Hank Card of the Austin Lounge Lizards to use their unofficial UCSC banana slug fight song in the story. You can hear it in both video clips. By the way, Hank Card was kind enough to give me a bit of background about the song.

"As far as the origins of the song go, you're right that we've got a connection to Santa Cruz and have played at the Kuumbwa (concert venue) many times. We always thought the banana slugs mascot was really funny and even got slimed at the Strawberry Festival."

"I'm from Oklahoma, where football is big, so the college fight song is part of my culture. I just got curious to see if there was a UCSC fight song. Since there wasn't, my wife Kristen and I wrote one just for fun. The S-U-L-G-S spelling in the middle was a mistake we made at practice, but we thought it was funny so we left it in."

And here is the story. The video is by Mara Waldhorn.

Things you should never do in the backcountry. Selected Cactuseaters re-runs, part 17

OK, this post is older than the hills, but a couple of people mentioned it to me so here it is a second time. It's a list of things you should never, ever do during any outdoor excursion.

The Cactuseaters List of Backcountry "Don'ts'' (the unexpurgated version!)

NEVER bring a fondue maker into the woods with you. The bread crumbs, fruit wedges, gas and molten cheese will form a white magma that will spew all over you, leaving fourth-degree burns all over your entire body.

NEVER cook a meal while sitting inside your tent, even when it’s raining outside. (Trust me. Your tent will explode.)

NEVER forget that “freeze-dried’’ and “chili’’ is a very bad combination. (Trust me. You will explode.)

NEVER try to reason with anyone riding an All-Terrain Vehicle --- especially if he or she is drunk and holding a 12-gauge Mossberg hunting rifle and wearing a knit cap that says "I Like Big Jugs.''

NEVER try to make your girlfriend, or boyfriend, hike faster by calling out a military cadence in a fake Southern accent. ("Sound off, sound off, one, two, three, foe!")

NEVER attempt to brush your teeth in total darkness. Preparation H does not fight gum recession. And it tastes fishy.

NEVER bring artisan-quality cheddar cheese into the Mojave Desert with you in mid-June. A horrid white pus will extrude from the cheese, and you will vomit.

NEVER set up your tent in the middle of a mule trail in the North Cascades. Brighty, Big Snort and Old Thunder will trample you to death in your sleep.

NEVER underestimate the amount of toilet paper you will use in the backcountry. Sticks and stones won't break your bones but they will leave nicks and abrasions on your derriere.)

NEVER camp at a suspiciously beautiful, yet strangely empty, lakeside campsite. It is probably empty for very good reasons (think “flood plain,’’ “poisoned water’’ and “spaniel-sized mosquitoes.’’)

NEVER eat the freeze-dried stroganoff. It has been mummified and sealed away for good reason.

NEVER cut the handles off the toothbrush “to save pack weight.’’ Toothbrushes weigh less than an ounce – and if you try to brush your teeth with the head of a toothbrush, it will fall down your throat and lodge in your trachea, and you will die.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for my comprehensive history of the banana slug mascot, and for my report on the Wicked Bugs reading. But I can't be rushed. I've got brain freeze and it might take me a while to upload all this stuff.

My neighbor is moving.

I see a Mayflower truck out there right now.

Hooray!

I mean, "Bon voyage"!

Violent gardeners and Amy Stewart's Wicked Bugs

There is a violent gardener in my neighborhood.

Call him Mister Green Fist.

He put a defeatist sign up in front of his victory garden. The sign (which faces a busy thoroughfare) warns that he'll "beat the crap" out of anyone who messes with his flowers.

Will upload a photo of that sign when I work up the courage to take a snapshot.

Speaking of wickedness and extreme gardening, I am eager to go see Amy Stewart, bestselling author of Wicked Plants, when she arrives in Capitola to read from her new book, Wicked Bugs, on Wednesday June 8 at the Book Cafe. The talk begins at 7:30 p.m. I didn't realize that Ms. Stewart is a former Santa Cruzan. For the sake of this book, she tracked down 100 of our most horrifying bug enemies, from disease-vector flies to bugs that can turn entire libraries into mulch. Stewart's books are witty and informative, but she also deserves props for the design, layout, and artistry.

I found out about Stewart from the incomparable Mary Harden, my botanical illustration teacher up in Golden Gate Park up until last year, when I relocated to Santa Cruz.

Hope to see you all there.

Cactuseaters Book Club part four: Read this one next: My Korean Deli

I've read so many memoirs that skirt around issues like race, class, family dynamics and the "prestige track," the rut that can trap aspiring editors and authors into low-paying but impressive and privileged positions. Ben Ryder Howe's My Korean Deli jumps into these issues right from the beginning.

Here's what happens when an author and editor refuses to get off the prestige track altogether (he refuses to abdicate his low-paying position at the Paris Review) even while taking an extreme step toward possible financial independence (he and various in-laws pool their resources to buy a delicatessen in Brooklyn.) As the book progresses, you can see the author struggling to maintain his footholds in the store and at the magazine -- an increasingly difficult task, as you'll see.

I did not know that an author could extract so much narrative juice from store ownership. If you think it looks like a static enterprise, think again.

I've been to so many New York delis, and I had no idea what it took to run them, even though I've spent years of my life as a bag boy at places like Von's and Safeway. If you buy one of these places, beware. 1. You have to deal with tobacco enforcement raids. First offense: a thousand bucks. 2. You have to deal with the intimidations and strange behaviors of packaged snack cake suppliers. 3. You may find yourself inheriting pistol-wielding employees who are not afraid to take extreme measures if someone tries to rob the place.

Another thing about this book: It really captured (for me) the best as well as the most horrible aspects of living in NYC for several years. While reading it, I remembered the heights of my experience (martinis at the Temple of Dendur, hearing a talk by Joan Didion, staggering home from an all-night gathering somewhere in Brooklyn, etc.) and the staggering lows (having a rat jump over my foot, having my car break down in frozen weather in the middle of Broadway at 1 in the morning, eating horrible falafel in Williamsburg. The chef thought to put pickles in the falafel. I was drinking Maalox for three days straight.)

A good book club choice.

Print sale: possessed owls, bristlecones, moths, weird bears and much more

Since moving back to Santa Cruz, I've added a new tradition to my life: heading up the hill, jostling for parking, and making my way to the UCSC student Print Sale, which is coming up next Friday. Some of the stuff is dirt cheap. Other stuff is quite expensive. All profits go to the artists. They have all kinds of handmade books, posters, children's illustrations, portraits and lithographs. Last year I saw pictures of bristlecones, moths, Easter Island heads, dancing bears, possessed clowns, and recreated old-time California maps. Last year I bought a wood-block print showing five owls standing in the crook of a moonlit yew tree. It's hanging above me as I write this. Below the owls, there are five dangling ribbons with an inscription running across them in French. I have no idea what it means.

Read these next: Stewart O'Nan and Francisco Goldman (and more)

Here are a few new or new-ish books that you -- both of you -- might like.

Stewart O'Nan's Emily, Alone is marvelous. In this slender book, old people live in an in-between world. Just driving across town -- braving roundabouts, moving in and out of tight garages in a big clunky boat of a car -- is an Odyssey in itself. Emily, the title character, lives in a crooked piece of time. She's trying hard to hold on to her routine, her memories, and her vitality. At the same time, she's moving toward resignation. At one point in the story, Emily is filling out holiday cards, a task she despises but can't bring herself to give up. She glances at her address book and notices a near-perfect split between the list of friends who are still alive and those who died years ago, or moved away. It's just one of the many quiet and powerful moments in this book. Reading through this, I asked myself, "Why hadn't I heard of this author before? Looks like he's written many other books before this. Who has been hiding him away from me for all these years?"

I've just started Say Her Name by Francisco Goldman, who recently spoke at the Capitola Book Cafe. In just a couple of lines, he sets up the story: from the first few opening lines, we know (in this autobiographical work of fiction) that the protagonist has lost his much-younger wife in a freak accident and that her mother blames him for what happened. Then, flip the page and see how the narrator particularizes their relationship with a description of an axolotl, "a species of salamander that never metamorphose out of the larval state, something like polliwogs that never became frogs." We learn that Aura, the young wife, was fascinated by these creatures, and loved a famous short story by Julio Cortazar in which an axolotl, and a man staring at the creature through the glass of a terrarium, swap souls; the man is trapped behind the glass, and the axolotl, in its new human skin, walks away. It's a strange and beautiful way to begin this story about love, grief, art, and identity slippage. Sarah Bakewell's How To Live is a terrific introduction to Montaigne, his essays, his adventures, friends and antagonists. I plowed right through this so quickly that I wanted more. Maybe the paperback version will include an addendum chapter in which Bakewell maps out one of those crazy, rambling, shape-shifting essays from beginning to end, stop by stop, like a tour guide. Speaking of "tour guide" and "shape shifting," Karen Russell's book Swamplandia is a jungle-boat cruise through an enchanted bog. All for now.

Also, here's an addendum: one of my readers told me that she didn't want to read Francisco Goldman's book because "it's about some lady who turns into a salamander. That sounds scary to me." That is a bit of a misreading of my blog post. His book only refers to salamanders (in a specific context) in that one scene. It is about the arc of a relationship and coping with loss, and while the book does have some fantastical elements, the work, as a whole, is most certainly not about amphibians.

Banana slug stampede in Nisene Marks

If you've never been to Nisene Marks, get in your car and go there now.

It just rained, and the place is oozing with giant banana slugs -- skinny ones, fat ones, short ones, curly ones, straight ones, green ones, yellow ones, old ones, baby ones.

I was only there for an hour, and I saw 25 of these slime-covored creatures without trying.

Strange that I saw exactly that number, considering this is the 25th anniversary of Sammy the Slug, the mascot over at UC Santa Cruz.

Coincidence? Yes.

"How come you guys never touch me on the knee?" Drunk neighbor's list of grievances

On Cinco de Mayo, one of neighbors got really drunk, staggered out into the street and began to shout a list of specific grievances to his housemates. Since I couldn't sleep anyhow (he woke me up at 1:55 in the morning with his shrieking, bellowing and sidewalk stomping), I took out a pen and wrote down his rantings, verbatim.

Here is his list of grievances:

1. His friends are insensitive to his needs.
2. His friends (male as well as female) refuse to touch him in affectionate ways. He was especially concerned that his housemates touch each other's knees during conversations but rarely if ever touch him on the knee. In fact he cannot remember "one freaking time" when they've touched him on the knee.
3. His friends rarely hug him.
3. He has low self-esteem. His friends are responsible for his lack of self esteem. The lack of knee-touching and hugs makes it worse. If his friends would only massage his knees on a regular basis, he would feel good about himself.
4. His friends do not understand him.
5. On certain occasions they will do "fun things" without alerting him to their plans. Then, when he'll find out about the fun plans, they will lie about it and cover it all up. "You make it seem like you've assembled spontaneously, when in reality, you've planned ahead and gone somewhere and never told me."

I hope my neighbor gets the comfort and knee-petting that he craves. I'll upload an illustration soon.

Pacific Crest Trail 2011: Free Range Amelia lights out from Santa Cruz

Hoping you will have kind words and perhaps some canned cling peaches with syrup for Free Range Amelia, who is representing for Santa Cruz on the Pacific Crest Trail this year.

She's doing a full-on through hike and should be arriving in Campo soon. My impression is that Free Range Amelia can throw down quite a lot of miles per day so you'll have to keep up as best you can.

She will update this journal regularly. This blog post has been amended to remove the word "GORP." Gorp is disgusting.

Drown out your annoying neighbors (and get some writing done)

I just found out about this free Web application that lets you blast white noise through your computer or iPhone.

By the way, if you're a Pacific Crest Trail hiker, you're out there hiking with an iPhone, and you want to drown out your chatty trail companions, you might want to think about this, too. Just put on those headphones and put the volume on full blast.

Living Writers series continues in Santa Cruz ... with Aimee Bender and more

O.K. That's enough about the goose for now. Here's the rest of the series. I'm staking out my parking spot; don't swoop me. Scroll down to the bottom for the full schedule. Why didn't someone tell me there was a typo in here?

(pictured: Aimee Bender)

May 5
Jessica Hagedorn

May 12
Aimee Bender

May 26
Neo Benshi, Roxi Power Hamilton, Jen Hofer and Konrad Steiner

Here is the full schedule.

Memorial service for iconic goose

I know I have been posting quite a bit about Lucy the iconic goose. Just wanted to mention that there is a memorial service at 6 p.m. today. It would feel kind of weird for me to go to such a funeral, and perhaps hypocritical [I'm eating a glazed roasted chicken for dinner this evening with all the trimmings] but I admired Lucy and will leave some kind of note if there's a visual memorial.

Lucy demise update

This is a much more detailed report than the one I read yesterday. It also includes Lucy video.

Rest in peace, Lucy the Goose

I was saddened to hear that Lucy the Goose, a tireless and resilient Santa Cruzan, was killed over the weekend.

She was an older goose -- well into her teens, which is pretty old in the goose world. She had dirty gray feathers, a baritone voice that could carry for a half mile, and a bright-orange growth, roughly the size and shape of a walnut, over her upper beak.

I know that there is a long and embattled history surrounding Lucy, and that some local neighbors were upset about the noise and droppings, etc. Did this sentiment have something to do with her demise? News reports didn't say. According to one account, she may have been the victim of an animal attack. I suppose that's possible, though it wouldn't have been easy for a creature to get her. She was fairly well-protected behind a fence, and often slept and rested in areas that were completely surrounded with water.

One of Lucy's longtime fans told me that she used to live out near that big lagoon in Live Oak, once known for its large flock of loud, knee-pecking geese. According to one account, she was "dumped" in the harbor one day. Over the years, local publications have mentioned the controversy over Lucy's noise and messes, mostly as an excuse to fold in every pun you can think of involving "fowl" and ruffled feathers, etc.

Lucy was not perfect. For one thing, she was lazy. Her trumpet was so loud you could hold your cellphone up to it, and it would hurt your listener's ears. When she walked, she swung back and forth so much that she sometimes bowled herself over just walking up a hill. Lucy could go from retiring to aggressive and back again with little warning. Sometimes Lucy would preen for her fans, then turn her back on people or shout at them for no reason.

But she was part of the harbor landscape, and a testament to perseverance. Preferring her own company, she ate and played alone, but she was indulgent towards the people who served as her unofficial caretakers.

Even the tsunami storm could not drive her out of the channel for long.

Lucy will be missed.

I hope someone gets to the bottom of this soon.

(above: image of Lucy at full wingspan)

Helene Wecker: The Golem and the Djinni

Ever read a book that isn't published just yet but you have a feeling that it will be -- and that it's only a matter of time? That's what I thought when reading early drafts of Helene Wecker's novel-in-progress, The Golem and the Djinni, which has been taking shape in various cafes and BART train rides for the past few years. Helene, an East Bay resident, just found out that her radical (and masterful) reworking of the Golem legend will be coming to a bookstore near you in 2013, from HarperCollins.

A recap of Literary Orange

I just found this one online. I remember speaking briefly with the young author in between panels.

Anyhow, my brother and I are going to put our own thoughts together about the conference. We're comparing notes and should post something soon.

Chaos, caterpillars and still life: an evening with Harry Berger

This one goes out to one reader in particular (you know who you are.) Looks interesting, doesn't it?

Great conference

Another great conference. Met many other dedicated, hard-working authors in and outside of my field. Most importantly, I was able to catch up with family and consume about 700,000 calories worth of food. Stay tuned for more detailed thoughts on this. Seems like people really enjoyed our presentation about travel and voice writing. They asked a lot of great questions. I even shot a YouTube video of sorts, though I recorded it when the coffee and gooey cookies were starting to wear off. Who knows what it is going to look like! When it was over, I went back and forth to panels all over the place, taking in other presentations. My favorite was the nonfiction panel, which was fascinating (a couple of the panelists seemed irritated at one another but that added to the drama). Ron Hansen did a great job with the opening keynote; he talked a lot about the origins of his art, attributing it to some unusual sources, including his brother, who shared an "imaginary language" that somehow turned into a seedling for Hansen's future books. He also shared some observations, courtesy of John Updike, about the beauty of the mundane. That resonated with me. More soon. .

Southern California bound

See you all in a day and a half at Literary Orange. If you're going, get there early; I hear that it's easy to get lost on campus. My panel will speaking at 1030 a.m. sharp at the UC Irvine event center. We'll talk about voice, place and memoir (I hear that some folks who missed the last Northern California event will be there.) I'm signing books from 1130 to 1230 and then I'll stay for the whole thing.

Tobias Wolff at UC Santa Cruz: reading binges and inspiration

Tobias Wolff wishes he could say that reading Thomas Mann started him out on the road to becoming an author. He remembers reading an interview with Susan Sontag in which she talked about reading Mann and Soren Kierkegaard when she was still in grade school. Sontag even managed to meet Mann in Los Angeles when she was a teenager.

“She was very precocious,” Wolff said, dryly, during his opening remarks at the first night of UCSC'S Living Writers Series, which drew a capacity crowd to the Humanities Lecture Hall on Thurday.

Each one of us has an author like that, Wolff said. “You look back and think about who it was that made you store up extra batteries in your flashlight so you could stay up reading, and put towels under the doorway so your parents couldn’t see the light shining in the room.”

For Wolff, a creative writing professor at Stanford, that man was Albert Payson Terhune, a writer and dog breeder who surrounded himself with collies, which he described as a “tawny swarm.” Terhune found fame writing genre fiction about his dogs – with many of narratives told from the point of view of the dog.

On Thursday night, Wolff talked about the way an author can store up readings, encounters and experiences over time and how these things can make their way into a creative work years later, taking the writer by surprise.

Terhune’s books were the first “reading binge” Wolff ever went on. Though Wolff now thinks Terhune was “probably certifiable,” he found himself drawn right back to those collies with one of his latest stories, “Her Dog,” in which a man has a prolonged conversation with his dead wife’s aging dog, Victor. Together they talk about fidelity, marriage, mortality and friendship, and have a standoff with a vicious dog and its thuggish – and curiously litigious – owner. In this case, it's clear that the protagonist, John, is talking with his own conscience, and using the dog as a mirror. “I could not have written this story without Albert Payson Terhune,” Wolff said.

All those childhood reading binges finally paid off, more than five decades after the fact.

Read the full story here.

[author photo by Photo by Elena Seibert]

Tobias Wolff: tomorrow in Santa Cruz. Stay tuned for a smaller photograph.

I bet you this will fill that auditorium all the way up.

Hope to see you there [but don't take my parking spot!]

Wow -- this photo is way too big for this blog entry. It jumps right out of the page. Let me try a smaller one tomorrow.All events are free and open to the public. Jump to the full schedule right here.

My upcoming appearance at Literary Orange [with additional info and added link.]

I'm off to the Southlands [soon] for Orange County's biggest literary conference on April 9 at the UC Irvine Student Center. I will be one of three featured authors on a panel that will speak about voice and place. Hope to see you there. Keynote speakers at Literary Orange 2011 are Ron Hansen, author of The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, which was adapted for a 2007 film starring Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck; and T. Jefferson Parker, an Edgar Allan Poe Award winner. Lunch will be served. Looks like you'll be able to park right there in the student lot near the event center.

And this goes out to the folks who have been asking me about this, a UCI news article with some additional info and highlights.

36 Hours Anthologized, part two: Ballard and Fremont (in Seattle)

An updated, expanded version of my New York Times story about Seattle will also be part of the new Taschen anthology of 36 Hours pieces, along with my more recent story about Santa Cruz. Should be available in bookstores worldwide this summer. (photo: Fremont Troll awaits a victim.)

Living Writers 2011: Tobias Wolff, Chang-Rae Lee, Andrew Sean Greer and Aimee Bender in Santa Cruz for free

I just found out about this 11 seconds ago. The Creative Writing Program and Literature Department is presenting the Spring 2011 Living Writers series, and they've got a pretty amazing line-up. I'm going to go to as many of these as humanly possible. Tobias Wolff, March 31. Chang-Rae Lee, April 7. Andrew Sean Greer, April 14. Claudia Rankine, April 28. Jessica Hagedorn, May 5. Aimee Bender, May 12. Neo Benshi, Roxi Power Hamilton, Jen Hofer and Konrad Steiner, May 26. All events are free and open to the public. Jump to the full schedule right here.

St Patrick's Day: pass the Maalox (and the pain relievers.)

Just got home from my first St. Patrick's Day party in 11 years. Drank a pint of Boddington's Ale (which is actually British, but my friends put a whole bunch of McCormick's green food dye in it so that makes it OK.) Ate too much corned beef and cabbage. Live chickens were running all over the property. And to top it all off, a family member head-butted me right in the teeth.

Good times.

To sustain the theme of the week, I'm reading Skippy Dies, which I highly recommend. The author's name is Paul Murray.

Santa Cruzans helping Japan

Here's the best local link I've found so far.

Alleged Sex Toy Thief Cuffed In Santa Cruz

If you saw this workplace unfriendly news story unfolding in any other city in the world, you'd never believe it for a moment. But this is Santa Cruz, so there you go.

Loved the profiling line about dreadlocks and farmers markets.

Storm damage [updated]

Everyone seems to be OK. However, I took a glimpse at the harbor and it was very scary to watch (from higher ground, of course.) Here are a few videos taken at the harbor that day.

The human scale was missing; boats were getting tossed into each other, barrels and whole chunks of the pier were bobbing around. I saw three helicopters flying low, and the Coast Guard trying to keep people off the docks and the boats. Boat owners kept scrambling toward the docks, trying protect their stuff.

There were some bad surges still hitting the harbor as of early afternoon-- and they seemed to be getting worse for some reason.

Several vessels are still knocking into each other -- and I saw a boat sinking right in front of me. Seems like they managed to evacuate just about everybody out of that area.

The bottom line is that it was frightening to witness even though the damage barely registered compared to the devastation in Japan. It was also scary to think about the fact that it only took 12 hours (!) for those swells to reach our shores. There were a few people hooting and hollering and trying to have a "tsunami party" near the steps going up to Frederick Street Park but it seemed like false bravado to me; I think everyone who saw it was thoroughly creeped out.

I wish people would take emergency warnings and safety procedures more seriously around here, considering the incredible amount of damage in other parts of the globe. In light of all that, it seemed like people were taking unnecessary risks. I just saw about a thousand people standing right in the middle of the splash zone, paddle-boarding, taking millions of pictures, shooting videos of sea gulls and eating corn dogs while staring at the water. I even saw someone standing on the viaduct over the San Lorenzo River, assuming a body-boarding stance in case the water swept over the bridge. (not good.)

Tobias Wolff

Tobias Wolff wishes he could say that reading Thomas Mann started him out on the road to becoming an author. He remembers reading an interview with Susan Sontag in which she talked about reading Mann and Kierkegaard when she was still in grade school.

"She was very precocious," he said, drily, during his opening remarks at the first night of the Humanities Division’s Living Writers reading series, which drew a capacity crowd to the Humanities Lecture Hall on Thursday.

Every one of us has an author like that, said Wolff, author of the novels The Barracks Thief and Old School, the memoirs This Boy's Life and In Pharaoh's Army, and the short story collections In the Garden of the North American Martyrs, Back in the World, and The Night in Question.

"You look back and think about who it was that made you store up extra batteries in your flashlight so you could stay up reading, and put towels under the doorway so your parents couldn’t see the light shining in the room."

For Wolff, a creative writing and English professor at Stanford University, that man was Albert Payson Terhune, a writer and dog breeder who surrounded himself with collies, which he described as a "tawny swarm." Terhune found fame writing genre fiction about his dogs – with many of narratives told from the point of view of the dog.

On Thursday night, Wolff talked about the way an author can store up readings, encounters and experiences over time and how these things can make their way into a creative work years later, taking the writer by surprise. Terhune’s books were the first "reading binge" Wolff ever went on.

Though Wolff now thinks Terhune was "probably certifiable," he found himself drawn right back to those collies with one of his latest stories, "Her Dog," in which a man has a prolonged conversation with his dead wife’s dog. Together they converse about fidelity, marriage, mortality and friendship, and have a funny standoff with a vicious dog and its thuggish – and curiously litigious – owner.

"I could not have written this story without Albert Payson Terhune," he said.

All those childhood reading binges finally paid off, more than five decades after the fact.

Wolff’s observations should encourage aspiring authors who feel sheepish about their early influences.

But he also offered encouragement to writers whose stories or books have run into dead ends. Sometimes, there is a missing ingredient that is just waiting to present itself and help you finish the story. That was the case for one of his most famous short works, "A Bullet In The Brain," about Anders, a self-satisfied book critic who is caught in the middle of a deadly bank robbery.

Wolff, responding to the request of a young student, read that work out loud on Thursday. The story starts out linear and straightforward, and seems to stop dead about halfway through. "But wait, there’s more," Wolff told the audience at the moment when the story goes from point-by-point to a more associative "dream time" structure.

It took years for the story to find its ending. The bank robbery scenario – and the doltish language of the robbers, who seem to have learned every one of their bank-robbing moves and speech mannerisms from television crime shows – was inspired by a friend’s account of a real-life Wells Fargo bank robbery. Wolff, digging for details, was "deeply disappointed … From the way my friend described it, it was one cliché after the other."

On reflection, Wolff was glad he wasn’t at that bank that day. He wondered what would have happened if he was standing in the line, snickering helplessly and making "ironic judgment" about the robbers’ speech and mannerisms. "Anders is modeled on some aspect of my own character."

But this was not enough to complete the story. Wolff "followed it up" by doing some research on the human brain. "Somehow, the completion of the story had to wait until I had the thing that would give it life. It was a long way around the barn."

Joaquin Mayer, a 22-year-old creative writing major and UCSC senior, was honored to introduce Wolff on Thursday night.

"The short story ‘Bullet In The Brain’ showed me how to incorporate significant detail and back story," said Mayer, who described the story as a creative writing master class. "The story’s words and images stuck in my head long after I finished it. I still have the original copy. The edges are disintegrating."

Peeeyew: Stinky fish on my hometown beach

Disturbing things are happening on the beach where I used to boogie-board and search for sea shells when I was a kid. Surreal and upsetting news. (and I bet it smells so bad there right now.)

Overtired

I just called one of my colleagues "Oprah" by accident. (Seriously. In an email, no less, as in "hi, Oprah." And the thing is, it was a guy, and his name doesn't look or sound anything like Oprah.)

Sonoran Desert trailhead dedicated to Gabe Zimmerman's memory

This just in: the Board of Supervisors in Pima County, Ariz., have voted unanimously to rename an Arizona desert trailhead after Gabe Zimmerman, the hard-working, socially conscious UCSC grad who died in the Jan. 8 shootings at a "Congress On Your Corner" event in Tucson, Arizona. The trail travels from the Cienega Creek Natural Preserve to the Arizona Trail. The supervisors also voted to rename the Cañada del Oro linear river park for Christina-Taylor Green, the 9-year-old girl who also died in the attack. Markers along the Zimmerman trailhead will also honor other victims of the attack. Read more here. [Photo courtesy of Ross Zimmerman.]

Thank you for a memorable event held at dog park/play area

Thanks to everyone who showed up for Saturday's grand event. I couldn't have hoped for more. Sorry I lied about serving chocolate cupcakes. Technically, it wasn't a deliberate untruth; I just changed my mind at the last minute. (See previous blog entry about cupcake imbroglio.) Anyhow, we lucked out on the weather, the bench and everything else. Hope to see you all again soon.

Dozens of baked goods squished in Welsh cupcake stampede

And meanwhile, here's a really important news story you might have missed because it happened in Wales, a place where people take their baked goods seriously.

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Tomorrow's big event

Thank you for all the "Yes" responses. Keep in mind that we'll go indoors if the weather does not cooperate.

Literary Orange is almost upon us

One month and counting. I've booked my travel plans, made lodging arrangements and ordered the chicken. Everything is set in place. There is still time for you to register for Literary Orange... but you'd better do it quickly. The spots are starting to fill up. T. Jefferson Parker will speak there. So will Ron Hansen, me, and many other folks. The conference will, unfortunately, not take place in a building shaped like a giant orange. (see photo.)

I think I've figured it out

Problem solved. The robot shall rise again soon. I think I typed the wrong stuff into the "TEMPLATE" function on my blog. Somehow, stuff got scrambled. It is almost unscrambled now. Stay tuned for a Q and A with an award-winning fictioneer, a Literary Orange update ... and more.

Something weird is going on with this blog

Having technical difficulties. Back soon.





(I found this busted robot photo on zagart.com)

Borders is bankrupt: "No worries!"

The other day, I made my way through the crowds of people picking over the remains of the local downtown Borders book store. I saw a floor manager standing near the entrance, and told him I was sad to hear the store was closing.

As I spoke to him, I remembered the huge to-do about this store when it opened: protests, recriminations, nervousness. There was a lot of worry that Borders would become an overwhelming force driving out all indie bookshops. Now it turns out that Borders itself is a casualty of more overwhelming market forces.

Read more of the story here.

She'll be mad when she finds out about this

If you're heading downtown, there's a guy standing on the corner of Cooper and Pacific, singing folk songs at the top of his lungs and looking forlorn. His guitar case is open for spare change, and he's got a sign asking people to give him whatever they can spare. "Expensive girlfriend," the sign says. "Anything helps."

Passion on the dance floor: Hard science, math students cut loose with tango

On a rainy night in downtown Santa Cruz, a dozen UCSC students, most of them math and hard-sciences majors, gathered in a church meeting room.

No one wore nerdy bifocals or carried slide rulers in their pockets. No one talked about proofs, conjunctions, flash points, or continuously differentiable functions.

They were too busy staring into each other's eyes with expressions of longing as they performed tango, the sultry dance that began in the working class districts of Argentina more than a century ago.

Read the rest of this story right here.

"Sunburned, dirty, smelly"

The other day I was minding my own business and heading towards my local bank to deposit a check. (That alone is remarkable; usually, I'm giving checks to somebody else.) On the way there, I walked past a tattoo parlor with a sign in the front spelling out the kind of people they don't want in their store. The sign was remarkably inclusive. Here it is, for your reading pleasure:

"NO CHILDREN. (Ningunas ninos.) IF YOU ARE drunk, on drugs, sick, pregnant, sunburned, dirty, smelly, eating, drinking, broke, trying to sell us something, looking for a deal, or otherwise obnoxious, please come back when you're not!!"

Near the sign, someone has put up a sticker: "People love us on Yelp!"

Cactus Eaters and "Reading in Good Company" in Atherton (new and improved posting)

Thank you, everyone, for a great event. There is always that scary moment -- just before starting -- where you wonder: "Are people going to show up??" That's how I felt right around the starting time. "Where is everybody?" Then, right at 1 p.m., a good crowd came in all at once, bearing platters of cheeses, breads, tortilla chips, salsa and a home-made torte with almond flour, orange peel and chocolate. I met people from throughout the Peninsula including a ranger who patrols a nearby park (I was glad to see he was in the middle of reading David Wicinas's Sagebrush and Cappucinno, which he saw on my list of reading recommendations at the back of The Cactus Eaters.) and a Palo Alto resident who is just about to through-hike the Pacific Crest Trail with her college-age daughter. She is a veteran of the Camino de Santiago -- in fact we were both talking about Jack Hitt's excellent book about his own camino journey, which she read in her tent during that European trek.

It was a really good, candid conversation. In fact, we talked about quite a few things that I would hesitate to post online. We discussed place writing, creating a voice in a nonfiction work, the weird history of this project and more.

Anyhow, thanks to everyone for showing up and to Annie Pena for setting this up. I also want to encourage everyone to stick with Atherton's brand new book group. Lately, we're seeing a sad decline in the number of places where people can meet, talk books and have a bit of orange-almond cake together. (Too many community centers, libraries and post offices are closing down or being consolidated, especially the smaller branches.) Anyhow, here's a list of their upcoming book choices:

March: Sex with the Queen: 900 years of vile kings, virile lovers and passionate politics by Eleanor Herman

April: The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner.

May: Pink Brain, Blue Brain: How small differences grow into troublesome gaps by Lise Eliot

June: Reader's Choice

July: Shake off the Devil: A true story of the murder that rocked New Orleans by Ethan Brown

August: The Forger's Spell by Edward Dolnick

September: The Lost City of Z by David Grann

October: The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester

Check here for more information about the book club and contact information

Book Club

See you at the book group Saturday (see Jan. 25th's blog entry below).




Photo courtesy of Jen.