Recently in books Category

I've always been a reader, and in the last year or so, I've had more time to read than ever before. Mostly, it's almost a furtive thing. Sneaking in a few magazine pages while on the subway, reading a chapter while waiting for a restaurant meal.

Books are chosen based on size, and how heavy they'll be to lug around. The heaviest so far has been "The Tender Bar" by Pulitzer Prize-winner JR Moehringer.

The swiftest read in recent weeks was "More Tales of the City" by Armistead Maupin. It's easy to tell Maupin's a playwright. The chapters were very short and mostly in dialog.

Next up:

• It feels like time to revisit Orson Scott Card's masterpiece, "Ender's Game."
• An advance copy of "Simplexity" by Jeffrey Kluger just landed in my mailbox.
• Which reminds me, I have an advance copy of "Mistress of the Art of Death"by Ariana Franklin that I need to finish.
• And finally, as inspiration to get back out and explore, "City Secrets: New York City" and "The Historic Shops & Restaurants of New York" are coming back off the shelf.

Last week was crushing — most definitely a low point in a year of many radical changes.

When you hit bottom, the best way to go is up. And the best way to do that, I've found, is to stay busy.

• The geek in me has been thinking about upgrading this site to MT4, but first, I think I'll finish "Transcending CSS."

• I began reading "Proust was a Neuroscientist," but it was very dry, so I turned to "An Alphabetical Life," by Wendy Werris, who lives and works in L.A. as a literary escort and seems to have had a very fine life in books.

Sometimes it makes me think I missed my calling. When I was little, I spent lots of happy hours in the library devouring books, and to this day, I've wondered what a great thing it would be to be a publisher.

Of course, in order to know what I was doing, I'd have to learn the ropes. What better place than New York?

But as many old-hand editors will tell you, the book business ain't what it used to be. For one example, read the wonderful, "The Forest for the Trees," by Betsy Lerner. If that doesn't make you fall in love with writing, editing and the literary life — and make you lament the state of the book industry today — you've a heart of stone, my friend.

• The Where to Eat map is in need of a redesign as well. I've got a head full of ideas, a pocketful of notes and a handful of software tools, including amMap, Yahoo Pipes and of course, the Google Maps API. Now, I just need my hosting service to stop going down.

• I'm doing a taste test to see if there's any different between the Naked an Odwalla versions of strawberry-banana-C smoothies. Naked calls theirs strawberry-banana-C. Odwalla gives theirs the far more fun-sounding name Strawberry C-Monster.

Why the sudden interest in C? There's a very bad cold going around that's been dropping people like rocks. They say the important stage of killing a cold is the first few days, before it sets in.

So far, Naked seems the way to go.

No Plot, No Problem! Write a Novel in November

Thousands of writers embark on the madness known as novel writing today, the first day of National Novel Writing Month.

Good luck to everyone registered for the venture. Remember: 1,700 words a day will get to you finished by Nov. 30.

We humans are creatures of routine. Sure, we want new experiences, but in the end, patterns and framework are what bring us comfort.

When I was a kid, Sundays were for three things: laundry, "ABC's Wide World of Sports" (watched while folding laundry) and reading.

"Wide World of Sports" has long since been out of broadcast — and, some might say, had long since lost its way even before then. My Sunday laundry routine got left by the wayside ages ago, too.

But the Sunday reading habit remains.

Today began with Father's Day tribute by sportswriter Wright Thompson — a reminder of how much family relations mean, and what great storytellers sportswriters are.

Then it was on to a couple of short stories from "Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant" by Jenni Ferrari-Adler (Amazon | BN | Powell's | Gothamist author interview) before wandering off to a pile of magazines, including Esquire, Real Simple and the "Kitakoga" manga in Monocle.

Not a bad way to slow down on a Sunday. Too bad time flies when you're having fun.

In the bookstore this weekend lay copies of "Pattern Recognition" by William Gibson, whose "Neuromancer" in the '80s brought us the advent of a dystopian futurist literature known as cyberpunk. (While I liked "Neuromancer" a lot, I liked "Mona Lisa Overdrive" better.)

I almost picked Gibson's novel up, but I was on a mission, seeking out a copy of Robert Ludlum's "The Bourne Identity" instead.

Lo, Gibson has a new novel out: "Spook Country."

Tonight, the author was reading at the Union Square Barnes & Noble. Had I not procrastinated on some other work, I would have gone.

Instead, I'm reviewing award entries.

For some reason, I've always liked children's books. Maybe it's because I still feel like a kid most of the time. Maybe it's because some of my earliest emotions and memories are associated with reading and being read to.

In the past few weeks, I've been hanging around a lot of babies and tots. While fretting last week whether a book was an appropriate baby present, a friend — himself a parent — offered some sage insight: even if the child is too young to read herself, the parents will probably read to her.

And suddenly I felt more sure of my choice.

So this week's reading list is dedicated to young and young-at-heart readers everywhere.

On the nightstand:
• "Next Stop, Grand Central" by Maira Kalman
(Amazon|BN|Powell's)
A graphic designer I once knew introduced me to Maira Kalman's art. It was odd, angular and when put in book form, looked like still drawings were constantly in motion. And for some reason, I liked them.

I tucked the thought into the back of my mind for many months. Then one day while browsing through a Super Crown Bookstore I found myself facing a pile of Maira Kalman remainders.

Among the many titles was "Ohh-la-la (Max in Love)," "Max Goes to Hollywood, Baby" and "Chicken Soup, Boots." I bought all three. When the youth writing workshop 826LA opened in my part of town, I donated them to their reading library.

But I kept "Next Stop, Grand Central," Kalman's survey of the people who ride New York's subway.

Preview the book at Maira Kalman's website.



• "Follow the Line" by Laura Ljungkvist
(Amazon|BN|Powell's)
The New York Times Sunday Book Review had a warm review of the book, which was published late last year. "Follow the Line" reminds me of "Harold and the Purple Crayon," one of my favorites when I was in grade school.

After playing around on the website and paging through a copy at the bookstore, I decided this was the right pick for my friends. I hope it will be a favorite of theirs.



• "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" by Laura Joffe Numeroff
(Amazon|BN|Powell's)
826LA had asked me to read to young kids one weekend soon after they opened. The director said they didn't have books, so I'd have to bring my own. And could I come up with a theme within my selections so we could do an art project after the reading?

Ack!

My theme became "one thing leads to another," and this story, which follows a boy's thoughts about what would happen if he gave a mouse a cookie, fit perfectly.



• "Kikker in de kou" ("Frog in Winter") by Max Velthuijs, translated by Transworld Publishers Limited
(Amazon|BN|Powell's)
I went to Belgium a few years ago with a rudimentary grasp of Dutch. To help myself along, I went to the local boekhandel and browsed the children's section for something to read. Author-illustrator Max Velthuijs' spare but heartfelt drawings and simple stories of Kikker, or Frog, and his friends won me over.

I didn't realize at the time that I'd fallen for an icon of European children's literature — the book "Frog is a Hero" was part of Britain's national curriculum for a time — but the language was simple enough that I caught on right away.

Dank u wel, Max Velthuijs!

The English translations are probably more appropriate for the youngest of readers. Older kids might be a little bored by the plainness of the stories. But then again, I'm a big kid and I really like the books....

It sucks to be sick, and I haven't been sick like this in a long time. Nor does it help that it's been so hot out.

The upside, if there is one, is that it gives me time to catch up on my reading. When I'm not sleeping, or sweating, or generally feeling miserable, that is.

I've almost finished "Heat" by Bill Buford, and I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't become a cook myself. Of course, it could just be the illness-induced delirium talking.


I read the first chapter of "Bit Literacy" by Mark Hurst, an advocate of the "no mail in your inbox" philosophy. "Bits are heavy" is his mantra.


Last week, I bought the latest edition of Monocle, but only had the clarity to get through "Kitakoga," the manga included as a separate insert. Yes, adults read comics, too, you know, even ones that are prime vehicles for product placement.


I also started watching Nike's "Keeping up with the Grouchers" but got depressed. I'm barely in any condition to leave my home. Why taunt myself with videos of elite athletes training to run really fast?

See the video at NikeRunning.com

Ugh. I hope this bug goes away soon.

As I pondered the perfection of the carmelized top of my crème brûlée, several things occured to me at once:

• There really is art everywhere.
• Whoever carmelized the sugar on my dessert is a food perfectionist in the best sense of the word.
• The only reason I remember the names of the accents over the 'E's in "crème brûlée" is because of my seventh-grade French teacher. Merci beaucoup, Mlle. Cooper!
• I'm going to have to exercise a lot to burn off tonight's dinner.

And so without further ado...

On the nightstand:
• Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany by Bill Buford
(Amazon|BN|Powell's)
Every once in a while, I entertain the idea of chucking it all and cooking for a living, but I'm not sure I'd survive in the macho world of restaurant kitchens. Instead, I pick books like this one, and live vicariously.

Bill Buford was the founding editor of the literary magazine, Granta. He also wrote for the New Yorker and this book was an extension of a story about "Molto" Mario Battali.

In it, Buford describes his own journey from writing about food to making food, and the seemingly consistent motivation of all who love cooking: to pour emotion into food that brings pleasure to those who eat it.

• "Bread and Chocolate: My Food Life in and Around San Francisco" by Fran Gage
(Amazon|BN|Powell's)
Though I'm always trying to get my stovetop skills up, I'm really more a baker than a cook. I like the exactness and precision of recipes, the physicality of working with dough, the sculptor's art in a perfectly turned crust, cookie or cake, the way you can weigh the finished work with all your senses.

This is a reread — I ripped through the book when I first bought it in 1999.

At the time I thought I was buying a cookbook. Really, it's a memoir with recipes, written by baker and pastry chef Fran Gage, who ran the wildly successful Pâtisserie Française (there go those crazy accent marks again) in SF before closing shop and becoming a full-time food writer.

• Olive magazine
(Website)
I have become such a devotee of this magazine that I bought my first (and hopefully only) food scale earlier this year.

Like most food magazines, there are a collection of recipes around a monthly theme — May was the British issue — but there are also essays, travel tips, and the sheer joy of food running throughout.

Right-o. Guess I'll do a couple laps between the kitchen and my computer desk now.

Some time ago, I attended a meeting of the American Society of Business Publication Editors and met a bunch of interesting people, including John Emshwiller, coauthor of "24 Days: How Two Wall Street Journal Reporters Uncovered the Lies That Destroyed Faith in Corporate America." (Amazon|BN|Powell's)

Emshwiller revealed the methods he and his reporting colleague Rebecca Smith used to uncover Enron's corporate shell game. It was a truly fascinating presentation, and I spent at least half an hour afterward talking with him about it. Yes, folks, I love a good hunt.

That evening, I also met a 30-something woman who stood out in a black jersey sundress. She was hauling an enormous canvas totebag stuffed with folders, pens, notebooks and a tape recorder, as well as what seemed like a gazillion men's magazines.

Curious, I asked her background.

"I'm a freelancer," she said. "I specialize in writing for men's magazines from a woman's perspective."

When I asked if she found it difficult being a woman writer in a men's mag world, she said not at all: "The editors, for the most part, are pretty nice and very professional. As for the stuff I'm writing, I like that it's straightforward. I mean, compare Esquire to Cosmo or Glamour. They're all the same topics, but at least in the men's magazines, the articles don't hide what they're after. In the women's publications, it's all about 'how to please a man' or 'how to be more attractive to men.' Where's the empowerment in that?"

She had a point. There was no shame in writing for — or reading — men's magazines.

On the nightstand:
• Esquire
To many readers, this is the crème de la crème of men's publications. Smart, classy, masculine, Esquire attracts top writing talent and offers tips on everything in the realms of dressing well, living well and loving well. If Esquire were a person, it would be James Bond, circa the Pierce Brosnan era.


• Best Life
I'm somewhat surprised Best Life has survived as long as it has. But at least it's a magazine that knows who it's talking to: affluent married men somewhere in their mid-30s to early 50s. The pub doesn't do anything new, it just does standard stories well and differently.

My major complaint is I can't tell the different issues apart. The cover always features a celebrity wearing an impeccable suit and two or three days' worth of stubble (photogs prefer men not to shave for a day or so before a shoot — it gives the face definition under bright lights and the photographs come out looking more manly). As beautiful as the clothes are, and as much as I love guys in well-tailored clothes, it's a little boring month after month.


• Men's Journal
Whereas the first two pubs on this list are all about sharp-dressed men, Men's Journal takes the rugged and ready approach. No suits here: the Men's Journal man drives fast and seeks adventure. He's more likely to be found grinding away at the coffee cans of a catamaran in an America's Cup qualifier than lounging on the deck of a yacht off the shores of some tropical paradise. Though of course, he's capable of doing that too. It's just not a priority.

I like the profiles in Men's Journal, usually because the writers always put their subjects in motion. Sitting in a restaurant inevitably leads to a dull interview. But when people move, stuff happens.