I won’t actually liveblog the panel I’m attending — there are several authors, and they’re reading, and the first one, I fear, is reading too long. Instead I’ll share some thoughts. (thoughts slightly addled by corporate faux-microbrew, which was both breakfast and and lunch. Welcome to Convention-Center-bound BEA.)
- Sherman Alexie might just be the nicest, most accessible author ever. I have a pic (to be uploaded later) of him with Avalon publisher Charlie Winston, for which I interrupted them mid-conversation.
- “Litbloggers at BEA. And none of us are typing.” should be “Litbloggers at BEA. And not one of us is typing.” Sorry, my nighttime grammar disintegrates.
- There are either fewer people at BEA than last year or I’ve acclimated to the massive crowds.
- I remember there being more kooky characters. The authors dressed as princesses seem to be a thing of the past.
- Meme this year: eyepatches. Not just on pirates.
- Publishers really, really want to hand you a copy of their newest and bestest. Otherwise, they’ll have to carry it home.
- Ron saw Ernest Borgnine!
- If you want to find the NEA at a big book event, look for ever-so-tall David Kipen.
- Richard Nash can be tracked down by following the booming voice with the soft Irish accent.
- If you want to find many others, they are not nearly as easy to spot.
- I continue to adore Moleskine with all my heart.
An unplanned convening of litbloggers at Book Expo. From left to right: Dan Wickett (The Emerging Writers Network), Kassia Krozser (Booksquare), Mark Sarvas (The Elegant Variation), Ron Hogan (Galleycat, Beatrice) and me, Carolyn Kellogg (Pinky’s Paperhaus and Jacket Copy).
There’s a second litblogger photo, in which Mark looks worse but Ron looks better; might as well post it, too, so’s they can both be mad at me.
I’ve posted more photos of photos of BEA on flickr, in a set with other literary pics you might like.
I’ve gone to Book Expo twice before, and still I feel entirely unprepared for BEA 2008.
The first year, it was in Washington DC. I stayed at an unfortunately expensive shitty hotel; I had to wait in line as an intense guy checked in before me. I had never seen him before. But somehow I knew it was Ed Champion, and when he turned away from the desk, I tried saying “Ed,” loudly. He turned. Yep, it was Ed. This year, Ed will not be at BEA. Seems wrong, somehow.
Last year, in New York, I stayed with non-book friends in Brooklyn — they provided a welcome dose of sanity even though NY transit added hours to my travel time. (Strangely, those same friends will be in LA this year just in time for BEA. Maybe they’re all bookish after all). Last year, the LBC had a party, and I got to meet more fellow litbloggers and publishers and a logjam of authors. Running late the next morning, I worried that I’d miss the panel I wanted to see, but realized one of its members — Christopher Hitchens — was standing right in front of me on the escalator. I followed him. He was grumpy about morning. I walked onto the floor and was dazed by the enormity of it — or maybe by the heat (the air conditioning in Javitz was on the fritz). I had a marvelous time, sort of full-to-overflowing, all of it, including my bags, with books.
This year I have planned. I have a schedule. I am in my own town (yes, I am here, in LA, which I have reclaimed, by the way). I know when William Shatner is supposed to be signing his new book, that Alec Baldwin is speaking at a breakfast, that George Hamilton is throwing a party. That Salman Rushdie is going to be hanging out, cracking jokes. But there’s so so much that I don’t know. I might even see you there.
Host Jim Ruland and his lovely wife hang out during the intermission.
I have more to say, but my plane is boarding. Adios!
Good news: Maud Newton throws a story into the universe, the universe throws her a $1500 prize.
Good news: I’m catching up with back issues of One Story and “Bar Joke, Arizona” is great.
Good news: My coursework at Pitt is done! I turn in my thesis this summer. Looks like my grad school GPA is 3.9. Tra la!
Good news: when you go see a blockbuster at the big old Vista theater in LA, you’ll find that the manager has dressed up as the main character. Meet Ironman.
Good news: I will be in LA for Mark Sarvas‘ Sunday night book party at Vermin on the Mount!
Good news: I have an LA apartment! Three weeks from now I’ll be living in a 1923 apartment building with a front desk and a cloverleaf pool and one of my favorite LA bars on the ground floor.
With a posse of eager readers spread across UCLA’s campus, Jacket Copy has been hopping all weekend. That’s where I wrote about James Ellroy giving me grammar lessons (I swear). Check out the festivities.
Last night Andrew O’Hagan took the book prize in fiction for Be Near Me. (complete list of winners). As Junot Diaz has been sweeping the big awards this year, O’Hagan’s win was a refreshing change of pace. Upset, even.
As for upset, that was me as I tried, unsuccessfully, to liveblog the awards. I couldn’t get online inside Royce Hall, although I’d easily connected 30 minutes before on UCLA’s network. After rebooting twice, with the awards underway, I was prying into my network settings to try — fruitlessly — to fix whatever was going wrong when the man behind me leaned over and asked me to put the laptop away. The man was Kenneth Turan. Oh, I love his criticism! Oh, I was so embarrassed!
Master of Ceremonies Gay Talese was mid-introduction, which as far as I could tell was about how all writers are overly attached to typing at their laptops. If he went on from there, I was too miserable to hear it; Royce Hall was darkened for the event and I was huddled near the wall, illuminated by a telltale rectangular glow of light.
I shut the laptop. For the rest of the ceremony, I used my old-style blogging device: pen and Moleskine.
That comment I left about not knowing about voting problems? I take it back. My friend Katy had voting problems.
Claws are coming out for Sloane Crosley, the cutest book publicist turned memoirist ever. Rachel, try to be nice.
Small Beer is doing the free download thing with John Kessel’s new book, The Baum Plan for Financial Independence (no, it’s not really about finances). Highly recommended by Gwenda.
Heading to LA tomorrow! I’ll be at the LA Times Book Prizes Friday night and the Festival of Books all day Saturday and Sunday. Cecil is on two panels, Mark on one, Laila on one, Sarah on one, Antoine on one, Tod on two … I need a clone.
Well, OK, it’s about 2600 miles away, but I’ll be there on April 24. There are several e-newsletters that I’ve remained subscribed to for the last 2 years — too lazy to unsubscribe — and this morning I realized that the events in the newsletter will actually be happening while I’m in town. Cool!
Sadly, the American Cinematheque’s noir festival will be over the day I arrive. But I can catch them at the Festival of Books, if I get time to visit the booths. Smart of them — they may not be all about books, but they know that bookish people like the classic and rare films they show.
So the LA Times Festival of Books is coming up and it turns out I’ll be moderating two panels, both chock-full of wonderful novelists.
Saturday, April 25, 4:00pm
First Fiction: New Voices
- Antonia Arslan, Skylark Farm
- Rebecca Curtis, Twenty Grand
- Pamela Erens, The Understory
- Ellen Litman, The Last Chicken in America
These women are all nominees for the Art Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction (along with Dinaw Mengestu for The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears, who apparently can’t make it).
And then on Sunday, at 10:30am
Fiction: Unconventional Voices
- Ben Ehrenreich
- Keith Gessen
- Lydia Millet
- Yannick Murphy
Please come. I promise to keep my moderator self out of the way so you can get the best of all these great writers. When we’re done, after you go to their booksignings, say hello to me, the redhead standing around with my hands in my pockets.
