This has been a year of circling back and I’m not sad about it.
When an L.A. Times editing gig took a delightful turn in March, I gained temporary oversight of book reviews and reacquainted myself with the New York publishing world I left decades ago. Diving back into this world was a treat, alternately daunting (given the high volume of releases and tight review budget at my disposal) and thrilling (reading good books and well-crafted critiques). My editing duties are winding down, but I have savored the gig while it lasted, just as I told myself to do when it began.
I also discovered a woodsy creek side trail near my new home that’s a lot of fun to run. Canopied by trees and gently rolling, it reminds me of East Coast trails I took for granted before moving to L.A. Running down the hillside trail just like I used to in my younger days has been another Proustian treat in recent months.
But back to books. My brief marketing job at Viking Penguin (as it was then called) was not right for me in a number of ways, not least its pitiful salary, but it did give me a glimpse into the business side of book publishing, and an oft-repeated anecdote about xeroxing copies of Stephen King’s “It” manuscript along with a less-traveled one about “The Basketball Diaries” author and “People Who Died” singer Jim Carroll hitting on a co-worker’s teenage daughter.
The actual marketing work? That had mostly faded from memory until my L.A. Times inbox started filling with pitch after pitch for coverage, jackets and titles blurring together in a sea of familiarity even as I reminded myself of the work that goes into individual book promotion.
Happily, there were plenty of distinctive offerings in the mix. One example: “Pick a Color,” a promising debut novel with a punchy title and jacket to match.
Souvankham Thammavongsa’s book, published by Little, Brown late last month, takes its title from the question nail salon workers ask customers as soon as they walk in the door. In just one of many amusing details, all the workers go by the name Susan to make it easier for customers while also playing on the fact that many of them can’t distinguish between similarly named and outfitted workers.
But Thammavongsa, a Canadian Laotian poet who previously wrote a well-regarded collection of short stories, makes it clear that they all have inner lives, as downplayed as they might be for customer consumption. Most vibrant of all: the narrator, a former boxer who revels in the freedom that comes with owning her own shop. The novel didn’t hold my attention to its conclusion but I was knocked out by Thammavongsa’s voice and the world she dramatically conjured in “Pick a Color.”
Wait, there’s more: Here is a link to my L.A. Times feature about “The Carpool Detectives,” a true crime book that reads like a novel, and guide to of five L.A. area novels released this summer. The authors for the latter graciously explained why they set their novels where they did and supplied their favorite local hangout spots, enabling readers to craft their own literary adventures as desired.
“The Financial Lives of the Poets” is avert-your-eyes funny: I kept putting it down, only to pick it right back up. Jess Walter spins comic discomfort out of his hero’s harebrained schemes the way Larry David does on “Curb Your Enthusiasm”: You know nothing good can come of his actions, and you’re right.
Been reading a slew of books by comics lately, because there are a number of them coming out, and who couldn’t use a laugh these days? What surprised me most — and probably shouldn’t have — is how uneven they have been.
Salon critic Stephanie Zacharek calls “A Gate at the Stairs” exhausting and unsatisfying in a 
Many a foodie would kill for the job that Frank Bruni is leaving voluntarily. But how many of them have as complicated a relationship with eating as the outgoing NYT restaurant critic? In “Born Round,” Bruni chronicles his love for food, and battle to control his appetite, which he had finally gotten under control by the time he took the job. Few writers would be able to pull off these stories the way Bruni did. 
And now, for a reminder that middle-age need not mean sitting around whinging, I bring you Dara Torres. The Olympian who mounted an improbable comeback at age 41 is still competing one year later despite pesky knee problems and a rambunctious toddler at home.
You know the saying that happy families are all alike? I’m thinking there should be an addendum: Midlife crisis stories are inherently boring. Vague unease and ennui do not make for compelling drama.
Diane Garrett 