Festival of Books, Day 1

I have spent the past three days surrounded by crowds of passionate, passionate people. Today I marched with about half a million Angelenos down Wilshire Blvd. (Look for pics on the LA Greens Flickr site soon.) But over the weekend, the interest that drew us all together was the written word.

I love the LA Times Festival of Books; I feel so lucky that such an amazing event takes place in my town. I love seeing a college campus overrun with people who recognize the joy of books. Last year, Michael and I collected swag and attended largely political sessions. This time, we were slightly more judicious about the swag (and also spent more money) but went for a more literary focus for ticketed events.

We kicked off the day Saturday with "First Fiction," a panel moderated by a Times Book Reviewer, Susan Salter Reynolds, and presenting three novelists who recently published their first book. The draw for us was Olga Grushin, whose book I own. The others - Kirstin Allio and Uzodinma Iweala - also shared interesting perspectives on how to publish without compromising your vision, the role of both mentors and children, and the gulf between the first novel and the second - the latter being that which confers "writerdom." Iweala's novel, Beasts of No Nation, a first-person account by an African child soldier, won the Times' Art Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction, and suggests a staggering talent. He was also utterly charming. (They all made me a little jealous though.)

Next was the big event, where we joined about 1000 others in Royce Hall to see and hear Joan Didion. (I have yet to read The Year of Magical Thinking, but Mr. Library read it last week and will I hope chime in with some comments.) The buzz around me was how frail she would look (pretty frail, but not exactly breakable) and how forthcoming she would be. I was struck by her body language; she gestured with her hands often, almost trying to push away questions. She also managed to be both blunt and somewhat evasive. It's a bit understandable. When discussing your most recent book, about the loss of your beloved husband (followed by your daughter's death), wouldn't you have a little trouble? And when the topic moved to Didion's past writing, she was so matter-of-fact about her talent, as though it was such a natural part of her that she had never had to analyze or explain it before.

We ended the day with Joyce Carol Oates in conversation with Michael Silverblatt (of "Bookworm" on KCRW. He is loooong-winded). I don't know what of hers I've read before (I assume that I have read her though). My first thought though, was that she looks a bit like an Edward Gorey figure, lean and severe, with a pointed chin and black frizzy hair. She's an amazing reader - reading a 40-year-old story, she inhabited her pre-teen narrator and gave voice to the competing currents of innocence and terror. Plus she was engaging and funny. These are qualities that the first-novelists were somewhat lacking, and only Iweala was a good reader of his work. Maybe it comes with time....

Take for the day: "Believer" magazine and totebag, BookTV tote, LA art book from the Hammer, 4 copies of the Nation, and a matchbook. Plus chai mix.