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2008-05-08

by Ed Rampell

Los Angeles Times Festival of Books

Summary

The Woodstock of literature

Article

Los Angeles Times Festival of Books is one of L.A.’s top yearly cultural events, drawing 150,000 people to UCLA’s campus to experience authors reading, speaking and signing (euphemism for “selling”) tomes. At the free (if you ignore that parking fee) April 26-27 literary happening there were also booths galore for bookstores, publishers, scribblers and sundry groups and causes. This is the 13th annual bookfest, which is ballyhooed as America’s largest, belying the notion that La-La-Land is a vast wasteland of illiterate moviegoers.

I’ve attended half of these festivals, and kicked off this year’s coverage with a Saturday morning Ackerman Ballroom panel on “Comics Superheroes of the Page & Screen” featuring Jeph Loeb (co-executive producer of NBC’s Heroes, writer of comics such as Spider-Man), Hellboy creator Mike Mignola and Steve Niles of DC and Marvel. The good humored panelists described how authors and their fans are viewed by the hoity-toity literati: “You’re not a comic book writer – you’re a ‘graphic novelist.’ Good fun!

The same venue featured a more serious discussion moderated by KPFK’s Jon Wiener on “Defining American Character,” with Pacifica Radio’s Amy Goodman, activist/author Tom Hayden, conservative radio host Hugh Hewitt (author of Blog) and way overexposed Howard Fineman of NBC, Newsweek, etc. Goodman, host of Democracy Now, wowed the crowd with an excoriating critique of mainstream media’s biased, fictional coverage of Iraq, which “reached an all time low.” It was interesting to observe Fineman during Goodman’s tongue lashing; he seemed lost in thought at how he and his colleagues were un-indicted co-conspirators who’d neo-conned America into war. Fineman actually confessed his pro-war role as an “analyst” (i.e., “pitchman”), but if you’re truly sorry, hey Howie, why not resign your lucrative and influential media posts and give them to a truth teller like, say, Amy?

Next was a Moore Hall “Reinventing Hollywood: The 1960s and Beyond” panel moderated by uber-reviewer Leonard Maltin with Peter Biskind (Easy Riders, Raging Bulls), Mark Harris (Pictures at a Revolution about 1967’s Oscar nominees) and the Times’ Kenneth Turan. I experienced déjà vu during this discussion; Biskind – an annual book fest fixture -- wrote one of the best film histories ever, but how many times does one want to hear him re-chew the New Hollywood of the 1960s/1970s? Realizing this really wasn’t the festival’s fault, I resolved to seek out some different authors Sunday, and closed Saturday at a reading by Sherman Alexie, who has made a career writing about Native Americans, but doesn’t seem to want to be reminded he is one.

The following morning I arrived looking forward to hearing Joe Conason at a “Current Interest” panel, but when the New York Observer/Salon columnist’s nameplate was removed from the speakers’ table, I removed myself from Ackerman, happily relocating to a historians’ panel at Haines where I had the pleasure of hearing Michael Eric Dyson discuss Dr. King, whom Dyson noted, “whites wanted clawless and blacks wanted flawless.” Bruce Watson brought the 1920s’ executed anarchists alive, discussing Sacco and Vanzetti: The Men, the Murders and the Judgment of Mankind. Monkey Girl author Edward Hume resurrected the same decade’s Scopes Monkey Trial vis-à-vis a recent evolution court case. Douglas Brinkley, who wrote The Great Deluge, condemned Bush’s post-Katrina flyover of Louisiana as “a low moment in presidential history.”

Fee-fi-fo-Frum, I smelled the blood of a neo-con at the second of two panels featuring that laughable buffoon, David Frum, who coined the idiotic ”axis of evil” phrase. I wanted to ask Bush’s ex-speechwriter if he even knew which side North Korea’s Kim Il Sung fought on during WWII (answer: with the Allies, against the Axis power of Japan). Thankfully, our man Bob Scheer (editor of TruthDig, author of Playing President) made mincemeat of Frum, as moderator/Times editor Scott Kraft didn’t take a single question, cutting off public interaction -- even though an hour remained before Her Royal Highness Julie Andrews’ ascension to Royce Hall’s stage.

Ten minutes late, the singer/actress’ conversation with mad hatter Patt Morrison was preceded by an announcement that Andrews would only sign her new autobiography for the first 100 buyers, restricted to two books each. Well, la-dee-fucking-dah! All authors should have such problems. Be that as it may, when Andrews finally appeared she was disarmingly charming, funny and down to earth. Discussing appearing topless in her husband Blake Edwards’ 1981 S.O.B., Andrews actually fondled her breasts onstage, illustrating the problems of shooting her famous nude scene.

I ended the book fest at a practical panel moderated by literary publicist Kim Dower with literary agents such as Betsy Amster, which dispensed how-to advice to aspiring authors seeking representation and publication. Between events, I strolled around UCLA with my cousin, Michele, enjoying the booths of Nation Books (where Gore Vidal signed tomes), Santa Monica Press, Akaschic Books, University of Hawaii Press (whose motto could be: “Book ’em, Dan-o!”), etc.

A good time was had at the festival where many serious writers and readers gathered for the Woodstock of books.