Promises Kept

Reading a new book by a favorite author featuring returning characters is like getting together again with old friends. It just feels...right. I've been a fan of Robert Crais since my early days at Tower Books and have therefore been hanging out with Elvis Cole and Joe Pike for quite a long time.

One of RC's great strengths is his ability to keep his signature characters fresh, and reveal a bit more about them in each book. The Promise, the 16^th novel in the Elvis-Joe series, brings Scott and Maggie from Suspect into Elvis and Joe's world. It's risky to mess with a successful franchise, especially one with a large fan base, but Crais pulls it off. The Promise really is one of those books you don't want to put down. (No, I will not use the term, 'unputdownable,' even though Dictionary.com claims it's a word). I finished it after midnight.

My theory as to why RC's books are so successful is that his characters touch something in all of us. From Elvis' wise cracks and Pinocchio clock making up for his lost childhood, to Joe's sunglasses hiding the pain in his impossibly blue eyes, to Scott's efforts to repair what's broken within, and even Maggie the German Shepherd, who understands that pack comes first, i.e. take care of your own, we can all relate on some level. And we want very much for each character to triumph over adversity and find what they're looking for.

A good novel draws readers in, makes them form emotional attachments with the characters and creates a personal interest in the outcome. The Promise does all that and more.  

We All Shine On

Nothing slows down time like a good book. Or, more precisely, finding a book I can't put down forces me to make better use of my time. Amid the holiday craziness of extra hours at work, more socializing than usual and the mad rush to get everything done, I got completely lost in Anthony Doerr's "All the Light We Cannot See."

It's a complex story, with wonderful character development, and Doerr's stunning use of language and vivid imagery makes it a pleasure to read. But it went deeper for me. Perhaps it's because I'm the daughter and granddaughter of people who survived World War II by living in a cellar in Brussels while Hitler's army bombed Belgium. Maybe having an emotional link with such a dark time in history made me immediately bond with Marie-Laure, a young blind girl, as I pictured her making her way up and down the winding stairs in her uncle's tall house by the sea, in Saint Malo. Marie-Laure is only a few years older than my mother was at the beginning of the war, when nearly everything she had known changed dramatically.

I also developed a deep empathy for Werner, the young German soldier who is cast into the ugliness of war when he's just a small-for-his-age 14-year-old. Given my heritage, the Germans were of course the enemy, but I just couldn't see Werner that way. He was a boy, an orphan who ended up at an academy for Hitler Youth thanks to his expertise building and fixing radios. His and Marie-Laure's stories come together in Saint Malo, near the end of the war, as Germany loses its hold on France. Strangers and enemies, barely more than children, they experience the illumination of human connection. For a story full of the darkness of war, Doerr's novel is also full of light: sunlight on the ocean, the sea breeze drifting into the window of Marie-Laure's tiny bedroom, Werner's need to be decent, even in brutal circumstances, and kindness against a backdrop of brutality. Not all light can be seen, but it certainly can be felt.

Come Together

This weekend, coinciding with the public release of "All Things Must Pass," Colin Hanks and Sean Stuart's documentary about the rise and fall of Tower Records, two of my former colleagues organized a giant three-day reunion that saw over 500 members of team Tower descend upon Sacramento. I've tried, with little success, to explain to non-Tower people (yes, I do actually know a few) how it is that a job I lost nine years ago can still have such an emotional hold on me. Well if you have to ask...

(Side note to my book industry pals, since I met you because of Tower, and you made me a part of your community, I consider you part of the tribe).

Humans have been organizing themselves into tribes since the beginning. And though we may not realize it or think about it, we still do that. We naturally seek out those with common values and interests, and band together. Music, books and movies were the common interests that drew us to Tower initially, but once there, we discovered an environment that encouraged and fed creativity and welcomed being different. We often proudly referred to ourselves as the Island of Misfit Toys, and in the documentary, Dave Grohl says that Tower was the only place he could get a job because of his hair. Colin Hanks spoke at our gathering Saturday night, and reflecting upon his experience in the movie, "Band of Brothers," he likened the depth of the connections between Tower colleagues to those of people who have served in the military together. I don't think that's a stretch.

Anyone who was in the vicinity of 16^th and Broadway over the last few days saw the Dimple Records store draped with familiar red and yellow banners reminiscent its former glory. I arrived late Friday afternoon, when the press conference was already underway. Standing there with my tribe, across the street from the Tower Theatre where it all began, I felt an intoxicating mixture of nostalgia, pride and love. For the rest of that night and throughout the next day and night, I reconnected with people I hadn't seen in years, hung out and had a great time. We're all nine years older and have gone on with our lives, but what a gift to be able to come together and celebrate our shared history. Turns out we can go home again, at least for a little while...

Of Convictions, Growing Pains and Mockingbirds

It's such a pleasure to find a book that stays with you long after turning the last page, one that introduces characters you fall in love with, who stay in your head. I recently finished one of those books, Harper Lee's Go Set a Watchman, which she first submitted to her publisher in the mid-1950s, before To Kill a Mockingbird. The manuscript was discovered late last year, after having been presumed lost.

There was of course much hype surrounding the release, and I purposely avoided all reviews and conversation with anyone who'd already read it, wanting to go in with no preconceived notions or expectations. I needn't have worried; Watchman will live up to the expectations of Lee's most ardent fans. Her ability to tell a story that captivates and charms the reader is why Mockingbird has permanent residence on so many must-read lists. Yes, I know I’m "supposed" to love Lee's perennial bestseller, and contrary to my sometimes obstinate nature, I do.  I know very little about the South, and have never set foot in Alabama, but I was drawn in on page one. I'll wager that ten different readers will give ten different reasons why they fell in love with six-year-old Scout when they first met her. Besides her being a scrappy little tom-boy who hated wearing dresses (like a certain blogger, although for the record, I never beat up boys twice my size), it was her fierce love and admiration for her father that really endeared her to me.

In Go Set a Watchman, we get to know Scout, or Jean Louise as she's now known, as a young woman of 26, living by herself in New York City. She comes home to Maycomb to visit Atticus, in his 70s but still practicing law, and is confronted by the inevitability of change as civil rights tensions and political turmoil are transforming the South of her childhood. She also learns harsh truths about her family and her town. Childhood memories give us further insight into the Finch family while they cause Jean Louise to question her assumptions and illusions of the past. Challenging her convictions and those of her nearest and dearest sets her on a path she must navigate alone.

Watchman is now next to Mockingbird on a bookshelf. I know I'll want to re-read it at some point, but not for a while; Jean Louise won't be leaving me any time soon.

Saint Ashbury

It's always exciting to hear of a local band—especially a favorite—releasing a CD. While it's true that nothing comes close to the experience of live music, there’s something about taking home a CD, your own personal connection with the band.

Saint Ashbury's debut album will be released later this month. Trying to summon the words to describe such a musical feast evokes the old idea that writing about music is akin to dancing about architecture, but here goes.

The word soulful comes to mind upon hearing singer Jamie McCrary's country-flavored, alt rock-infused vocals. She has the kind of voice that brings you along on her journey, wondering where she’ll take you next. The first track, "Life of Crime," makes it clear that Saint Ashbury is fueled by stellar song writing as well as first-rate vocals. Ashley Mitchell and Jeremy Cozakas blend their writing styles to create rich melodies that beg diving into, treating us to lush guitar riffs, solid bass lines and mandolin. Bryan Gessaro, equally at home on keyboards or bass, and Louie Senor on drums seamlessly adapt to fit the mood of each song.

Stand-out tracks include "Matches and Gasoline," "Border Streets" and "Broken," but the entire album will remain on heavy rotation. It's perfect for a road trip or summer evening on the patio. Local bands come and go, but Saint Ashbury is one to keep an eye on. 

If you live in the Sacramento area, you'll have the chance to see Saint Ashbury and get a copy of their debut CD, Friday, August 28th at Harlows.

Sunrise Doesn’t Last all Morning

Last night I went to an extended family reunion. Colin Hanks and Sean Stuart's documentary All Things Must Pass: The Rise and Fall of Tower Records, kicked off the Sacramento Film Festival, appropriately enough, at the Tower Theatre, the site of where it all began, in Clayton Solomon's drugstore. It may sound like the stuff of legends, but it's true. Tower Records/Video/Books founder Russ Solomon built a $1 billion international empire from a card table in a Sacramento drug store where he sold used 45 RPM records from jukeboxes.

The filmmakers, who now live in L.A., grew up in Sacramento. They hung out at Tower like most of their friends, but had no idea how the company came to be. It wasn't until after the 2006 demise, that Hanks had a friend tell him about the company starting in a drugstore and thought, "Now that's a story." So began his quest to get that story on film.

Watching the history, from humble beginning to heart-wrenching end, of the place I spent my formative years was emotional to say the least. I was 22 when I walked into the bookstore that used to be on Macy Plaza Drive in Citrus Heights and filled out a paper application (remember those?) Twenty-two years later, it was all over. But I don't for a second regret staying until the bitter end. I grew up on that ship; it was only right to go down with it, surrounded by the people who had become family.

Last night was surreal at times, catching up with friends, looking around at familiar faces I hadn't seen in a decade or more, riffling through the mental rolodex to come up with a name, and feeling an energy that's very difficult to describe. We've all obviously gotten older, but nostalgia and pride are a powerful combination and I'll bet every one of us lifers was remembering what it felt like to be a twenty-something newbie realizing that we'd just landed the coolest job ever.

Hanks and Stuart were at the after-event, allowing us to meet and talk to them. I was able to introduce myself to Hanks and thank him for telling our story. At the end of the Q & A after the film, Hanks told the crowd he hoped they'd one right by us. I assured him that they had. I also got to chat with Russ for a bit. At 89, he's still as sharp as ever and still maintains that it was us, the "kids in the stores," who made Tower successful. That's true. But it was his vision that allowed us to avoid getting boring grown-up jobs and get paid to have fun doing something we loved. I'm forever grateful to have been a part of that amazing story. And while it's true that all things must indeed pass, some will live in our hearts forever.

So Vain

I almost got sucked in by a vanity press...actually I did, because I not only sent them my manuscript, I asked for an author agreement when they told me my novel had been approved by the submission committee. The agreement looked great, laying out step by step all the great things they'd do to promote my book – even more in detail than in the author packet they sent. They'd convert it to an e-book, but I'd get hard copies too! It would be available to Amazon and Ingram, and they'd give me my own web page on their site and help me manage social media! This was it – it was really happening. 

So I was riding high for a few hours, thinking I'd actually found a publisher, and then, there it was, line item #10, the amount of money I'd have to shell out for said publisher to do all those great things. I was pretty miffed because the subject of "author contribution" had never come up in email or phone conversations, and wasn't even hinted at in the author packet. I had a few hours (okay, days) of righteous indignation, feeling like they were trying to hide what kind of publisher they are (how dare they!) Then I realized why I was so irked. I should have known that it just wasn't going to work like that. An email, a phone call, a publisher. Nope, it just doesn't happen like that. And of course, I should have asked up front if I'd be expected to pay. After all, I spent 22 years in the book business. But, I didn't...this little voice was whispering that I'd done it – I was about to get published. My ego was driving and we were off at full speed. Guess that's why we call them vanity presses...

Ego plus art is an interesting combination; a symbiotic relationship. They drive each other, feed off of each other, but ultimately must find a way to (somewhat) peacefully co-exist. My goal from the beginning was finishing the book – I needed to see if I could. I had no delusions of making any money and hadn't even thought that much about being published. It was about getting. It. Written. But once I did, and started thinking, well, why not see if I can get it published, ego jumped into the driver's seat and away we went. The wonderfully witty and wise Anne Lamott thinks of being published as something you have to recover from. I'm still pondering that, while my ego and my creativity square off. Will my book get published? Dunno. I will keep writing though...thanks, Anne.