Tag: california

If You Lived Here You’d Be Home By Now

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Loh, Sandra Tsing. If You Lived Here You’d Be Home By Now. New York: riverhead books, 1997.

Reason read: Loh’s birth month is in February.

Confessional: I finished this in a day. Not because it was my favorite book but because I was home sick.

This is the story of Bronwyn Peters and her boyfriend, Paul, trying to make it in the glamorous city of Los Angeles. Be prepared. This is a very dated (1990s) story and there will be times when you want to maybe slap the sh!t out of Sandra Loh. I grew weary of the plenitude of brand-name dropping that went on (Guess?, Porche, Sanyo, Motorola, Kohler, BMW, Berber, Dolce & Gabbana, Wamsutta, Crate and Barrel…to name a few), as well as hot-now celebrity names like David Lynch, Frank Zappa, Malcolm Forbes, and Madonna…
Confessional: there were definitely times I wanted to slap Bronwyn Peters. Despite listening to NPR and identifying with a Bohemian lifestyle, Bronwyn hungers for the lifestyle of $200 haircuts and Corian counters. She even convinces her struggling writer boyfriend to buy a condo in downtown Los Angeles after they come into a modest amount of money (clearly not enough for L.A. standards). They settle on a place they obviously cannot afford for long. Bronwyn knows full well they are out of their league and yet continues to plays the game to the hilt. Bronwyn’s one redeeming quality is her steadfast love for Paul. She stands by him through temptation and failure. In the end, If you Lived Here… is Loh’s platform for bringing to the forefront L.A.’s socio-economic class structure. She uses the riots as a backdrop to her commentary on attitudes, prejudices and the simple act of just wanting more.

Lines I liked: “Feeling like Bruce Willis is some sort of Dead Something action picture, Bronwyn gripped her flashlight” (p176), and “and because there was nothing else to do, she rolled over and stole her arms around her fellow, such as he was, because his was the body that was still there” (p 221).

Author fact: If you Lived Here You’d Be Home By Now is Loh’s first novel.

Book trivia: short, short, short!

BookLust Twist: from Book Lust in the chapter called “California, Here We Come” (p 49).

Biodegradable Soap

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Ephron, Amy. Biodegradable Soap. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1991.

This is such a short, snarky little story about a community in suburban Los Angeles. Claudia Weiss is becoming more and more obsessed with recycling and the environment while her husband leaves her for a younger, more self-centered actress. Claudia’s friends gossip and have affairs of their own. One friend starts up an affair with her personal trainer and gets caught. Interspersed in the story are different current events: the Soviet invasion of Lithuania, the war in Iraq, the Exxon-Valdez spill… It’s truly an odd book.

Quote worth quoting, “That was what he liked about Lara – she was completely self-obsessed and he didn’t think she’d ever had an altruistic thought in her life” (p 45).

Reason read: Ehpron’s birth month is in October.

Author fact: Ephron has her own website here.

Book trivia: This is a quick, quick, quick read. 159 pages…but not really. Each “chapter” is short and choppy; only 1-2 pages long. If you were to squish the pages it’s only — pages long.

BookLust Twist: from More Book Lust in the chapter called “All in the Family: Writer Dynasties” (p 6).

Bluebird Canyon

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McCall, Dan. Bluebird Canyon. New York: Congdon & Weed, 1983.

Picture southern California. Now picture the star of a soap opera star named Rex Hooker with a penchant for self-destructiveness. The two go together in a stereotypical way, don’t you think? What isn’t so typical is Bluebird Canyon’s narrator, Oliver Bodley. Better known as “Triphammer” or “Trip”, Detective Bodley is a not so ordinary city police officer who gets caught up in Rex’s struggle to keep from losing it all. Interestingly enough, Rex and Trip go way back, as in high school way back. As the story unfolds, we find that Trip and Rex had been through quite a bit together back in their younger days. Just to give you an example. Rex and Trip are accused of partaking in the gang rape of a drunk girl. The victim’s brother and five of his friends proceed to kick the crap out of Trip and Rex…in detail. There’s more where that came from. Fast forward 20 years. Trip has been called to the Hooker estate for an apparent suicide attempt. Trip hasn’t seen his friend in those 20 years and Rex was rumored to be the victim. Be prepared. It gets nutty from there. Turns out, Rex is fine but 45 pages later his girlfriend’s sister accomplishes what he didn’t. Rex still lives with his parents but has a son, an ex-wife and a girlfriend. Meanwhile, at 37 years old, Triphammer is adrift. He doesn’t have a steady relationship, hates his exwife, in fact; he lives in a trailer on the beach (think Chris the DJ on Northern Exposure), he’s constantly losing his hat, and he doesn’t have a problem doing drugs in uniform (minus the hat). What he does mind, however, is being spit on.

All in all, some of Dan McCall’s plot was a little annoying. As I mentioned before, Trip is called to Summer Snow because Rex Hooker is trying to commit suicide. 45 pages later, another character hangs herself. It is mentioned the Hooker family is petrified of fire. 51 pages later Summer Snow is burning, thanks to an arsonist. I never grew to like Trip at all and I thought the writing was rambling and disconnected. At times the behavior of all the characters were exaggerated and ridiculous. Other times their actions were too sedate for the scene: two dogs were murdered on two separate occasions, two different houses were set on fire, two different suicides occurred…it all seemed a bit much. If McCall was trying to bring Rex’s soap opera to life in Bluebird Canyon he succeeded.

Quotes to make you sit up, “The world is full of assholes, and eventually they all turn up at the beach” (p 65), “My hole couldn’t handle a Q-tip” (Yes, he’s talking about what you think he’s talking about on p 72), “Chemists do not liven up a conference” (p 111), and “I wish my mind was a dog and I could train it to go sit” (p 244)

Reason read: California became a state on September 9th, 1850.

Author fact: Dan McCall passed away on June 17th, 2012. The Cornell Chronicle posted a really nice obituary about their former colleague.

Book trivia: I could see this as a movie, but to my knowledge one has never been made.

BookLust Twist: from Book Lust in the chapter called “California, Here We Come” (p 49).

Daughter of Fortune

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Allende, Isabel. Daughter of Fortune. New York: Perennial, 2000.

This took me three days to read thanks to a five hour car ride, an hour boat ride and an evening by the sea. Read the day before, the day of, and the day after Isabel Allende’s birthday.

Daughter of Fortune is the didactic tale of what happens when you become so obsessed with a thought, a feeling that you carry the obsession long after you remember why or what it was all about. This is the complicated saga of Eliza Sommers, raised as an orphan by a Victorian brother and sister – strict and unfeeling Jeremy and his spinster sister Rose. Secrets abound in Daughter of Fortune. When Eliza falls in love with delivery boy Joaquin Andieta her whole life changes. An obsession to be his “slave” claims her and compels her to follow him from Valparasio, Chile to California during the gold rush of 1849.

Best lines to remember: “Many years later, standing before a human head preserved in a jar of gin, Eliza would remember the first meeting with Joaquin Andieta and again experience the same unbearable anguish” (p 80). This line, if you remember it 150 pages later, gives away the entire story. Another line to remember, “The girl felt that she was opening like a carnivorous flower, emitting demonic perfumes to attract her man like a Venus’s-flytrap, crushing him, swallowing him, digesting him, and finally spitting out the splinters of his bones” (p 94) and one more, “‘I told you before that a fixation of the heart is very stubborn: it burrows into the brain and breaks the heart. There are many fixations but love is the worst'” (p 129). Wise words from the Machi.

Best word in the book: epizootic.

Author Fact: According to Allende’s website she has received 12 honorary doctorates. I enjoyed poking around the family photos the most.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter called “Dewey Deconstructed: 600s (food)” (p 73).


Crazy in Alabama

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Childress, Mark. Crazy in Alabama. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1993.

Talk about crazy! This book drove me there! I called Made in America a book of multiple personalities. If that’s the case, Crazy in Alabama is a book of split personalities. Set in the 1960s, one half of the narration is dedicated to Lucille’s escapades in California. She’s seeking fame and fortune as a wannabe actress while on the run from the law with her husband’s decapitated head in a Tupperware container. The other half of the narration is from the perspective of Lucille’s nephew Peter Joseph (Peejoe). He’s in racially torn Alabama witnessing violence and civil unrest at its worst. While Lucille’s side of the story is insanely surreal, Peejoe’s is intensely serious. The disconnect between the two voices created a divide almost too big to ignore. Luckily, Childress pulls them together and makes the entire plot work…somehow.

Favorite lines: “She would miss her children but she had Chester’s head to keep her company” (p 37). Of course! Another favorite line, “My eye was the price I’d had to pay for seeing too much” (p 229). See the difference between Lucille and Peejoe’s worlds?

Author Fact: Mark Childress is also the author of three picture books for children.

Book Trivia: Crazy in Alabama was made into a movie starring Melanie Griffith in 1999. Haven’t seen it.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter called Southern-Fried Fiction: Alabama (p 207).

Tortilla Curtain

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Boyle, T. Coraghessan. The Tortilla Curtain. New York: Penguin Books, 1995.

From the very first page this book had me cringing. The back cover of Tortilla Curtain reads, “…from the moment a freak accident brings Candido and Delaney into intimate contact…” The opening scene is the freak accident and it sets the tone for the entire story. To be honest I cringed my way through the entire book. Like watching a movie with one eye squeezed shut I could barely stand what devastating thing would happen next. There is nothing more tragic than misguided trust laced with preconceived notions about another individual. Reminiscent of House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III Tortilla Curtain is the story of two couples hopelessly fated to forever misjudge and distrust each other. The color of their skin provides a blinder for each pair. While how they react to their blindness differs from person to person their prejudices identically driven. Delaney Mossbacher and his second wife, Kyra, are a well-to-do couple living in the newly gated community of Arroyo Blanco. They worry about coyotes taking their family pets and the real estate market (Kyra is a successful realtor). Below them, scraping out an existence in the dessert are Candido Rincon and his wife, America, two illegal immigrants from Mexico. They worry about where they will get their next meal and when they will be sent back across the border. Two totally different worlds living within yards of one another. Inevitably the two will collide with disastrous results.

Favorite line: “He took the phone off the hook, pulled the shades and crept into the womb of language” (p 32). I wish I had more time to do just that.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter called, “Growing Writers” (p 107).

Not One Step

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I didn’t run on my last vacation. Not one step. In Vegas I seriously thought about it. The gym was hidden in the spa. Amongst the hair dryers and manicure stations were treadmills and elipticals. I told kisa, “when you gamble, I’ll run.” To make a long story short, he never sat down to a slot machine, never pulled up a chair for a hand of Black Jack, never spun the Roulette wheel, nor threw the die for craps. The only gambling he did was on the Celtics (and won). So. I didn’t run.
At the next hotel I got up early hoping to put in a quick 30 minutes in the gym. It wasn’t nearly as nice as Vegas’s setup but I was eager to try it out all the same. Just off the registration desk was a little gym. One bike. One step machine. One treadmill. Oddly enough, the “business center” was in the same room. Two computers, a fax machine and phone lined one wall. I guess the west coast likes to consolidate their tasks -run while closing the deal? Oh well. I figured I could ignore anyone who came in. Turns out, I didn’t need to. The treadmill was broken. Try as I might I couldn’t get the thing to stay on. Finally, I asked at the front desk, “Is your treadmill broken?” The manager just looked at me, bored, and said “yup” like I was supposed to know that before I got dressed and came over from my room. Stupid.
The third place we stayed looked more than promising for a run. They didn’t boast of their own equipment but shared space with a real, live, local gym. Hotel guests could work out for free at the area’s state of the art fitness facility. When Kisa and I toured the building I needed to put my eyeballs back in my head: olympic sized swimming pool, pilates room, two weight rooms, more cardio equipment than I could count, a yoga studio, racquet ball court, tennis court, you name it, it was there. They too combined their fitness center with a salon – facials, pedicures, manicures, haircuts and color…all in one place.
When Kisa and I finally changed our clothes and went back to the gym I was practically salviating at the chance to run. Until I saw nearly every treadmill in sight was in use. Upon further inspection I realized not only was every working treadmill was in use, but half a dozen were broken and I couldn’t compete with the wait list. I ended up on a bike for 40 minutes.
The final hotel was super nice…except it didn’t have a gym. Period. Not one machine anywhere. No running for me. I would have run outside but Southern CA was boasting of a heatwave like no other. I’m not that stupid.

Way Nicer Everything

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When we checked into the Long Beach motel the first thing I noticed were the signs everywhere alerting us to the fact that the management doesn’t care about our belongings. “Not responsible for lost or stolen personal items” was posted in at least three different places in our room. It made me think the maids had sticky fingers, a habit of “accidentally” walking away with things. This was the hotel “management’s” way of shrugging it off. The attitude didn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling about being a guest. Neither did their attitude about their treadmill, but that’s another blog. It’s ironic that this is where we left behind our camera charger & cell phone charger. Like they said (more than once): not responsible!

Then, there was something about the Mission Valley hotel in San Diego that rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the broken phone when we first arrived. Maybe it was the lack of elbow room. But, but, but I’m betting it was the rude sign we encountered in the bathroom. I don’t know why I couldn’t see this as humorous. Instead of getting a chuckle out of it I felt accosted, confronted, accused of something I wouldn’t even think of doing. Sarcasm was in the ink of that sign.

Rude

When we finally got to Ontario we discovered way nicer everything. Larger pool with lax hours of operations (when we asked, the desk manager said it closed “around 10pm..ish”). Free breakfast. Nice huge room with flat screen tv. Way bigger bathroom. More luxurious toiletries. Best of all. No rude signs. Nothing warning us the maids steal. Nothing asking us not to, either.

Aquarium on the Hill

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In awe

I like the tucked away adventures. Everyone knows the Bronx Zoo, Sea World, Disney, Grand Canyon… Those are the things people expect you to visit while you are visiting. Locals and I’veBeenTheres will add their two cents, “Oh! Ya gotta go see blahblahblah.” I perk up whenever I hear the word “aquarium.” Doesn’t take much to get me there. Doesn’t matter how big (or small) it is, I’m there. While visiting a friend in D.C. I heard of an aquarium in a basement. We went.
Such was the case in Long Beach and La Jolla. My aunt urged us to see Birch Aquarium & swore we wouldn’t be disappointed. We weren’t.

I admit we arrived a little late. 90 minutes before closing. I worried that wouldn’t be enough time & promised myself I wouldn’t spend too much time in from of the leafies…if they had them. A little background: Birch Aquarium has been around since 1905 and have chosen the butterfly fish as its endearing mascot. One side of the aquarium is dedicated to ever changing, ever thought provoking educational exhibits. When we went the showcase was how species hide (Can you spot the…?) and the tragic effects of global warming on coral reefs. Really devastating to see. The other half of the aquarium is dedicated to permanent displays like the Tide Pool Plaza, an area they allows the young (and young at heart, like me) to touch creatures. It was closed by the time we got there. Most spectacular (of course) is the great hall of fishes with the grand finale being a 70,000 gallon tank complete with kelp forest. It truly is beautiful.

One of the oddest displays was a tank with two eels, a pacific lobster and some kind of crab. I couldn’t tell the species of crab because it was dead. Dead! The eels were minding their own business, looking grim while the lobster…munched on the crab. It was in part fascinating because I had forgotten how complex nature could be, how violent – survival of the fittest and all that. But, here’s the other thing I couldn’t get out of my head: the display was eating the display! Woops. We stood and stared. Mesmerized by the lobster’s untiring efforts to break open the armor of the crab carcass.

Finally, it was closing time and Kisa and I reluctantly moved towards the exits. I bought a shirt to remember the experience. As we were getting in our car a woman stopped us, “Is this the aquarium?” she leaned out of her minivan to ask. “yes, but they are closing” I replied, “come back tomorrow because it’s worth every second.”

Tallest SeahorseIMG_2449IMG_2410

May We Be Excused

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Sometimes, and it doesn’t matter how old you are, you feel like a kid at the adults’ table. At least, that’s what it felt like to me when Kisa and I finally escaped to explore San Diego by ourselves. We were leaving that afternoon to visit La Jolla, Ontario & Upland but wanted to get in a little time in SD before we said goodbye. As the song goes, who knows when we would pass this way again?

My aunt and uncle had raved about the harbor tour they had taken the day before (“best thing we ever did” they vowed) and suddenly it was all I wanted to do, too. I had boat envy. I wanted to be on the water in the worst way. So, we picked a tour and went. We opted for the deluxe version – two hours, both sides of the harbor. It turned out to be a sparkling fantabulous day – like the day before and the day before and the day before. Thanks to Tom, we reached the marina in plenty of time to park, buy tickets, use the restrooms and find front row seats in the bow. It felt like running away.

For two hours we toured San Diego’s harbor, north and south. At times I could barely hear the guide over the wind in my hair and fellow passengers around me. I didn’t mind missing out on the spiel. To me, it started to drone anyway. Instead I enjoyed the military ships, the brown pelicans, hefty sea lions, fellow boaters speeding by, splashing green water, white foam spray and dazzling sunshine.

Queen Mary Grounded

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Queen MaryWall art

My uncle described the Queen Mary as “the rusting mistake in the harbor.” He went on to say that he didn’t even think it was floating anymore, that it has somehow rooted itself to the bottom of the bay and was just sitting there, waiting to crumble into the persistent tide. I could only nod and somewhat agree with him, thinking back on the holes, rust, wear and tear I saw while touring the once majestic ship. It all seemed so sad.
Even while we explored the ship, Kisa’s aunt explained the great ballrooms were for rent, but the prices were so extravagent no one could afford them. As a result, the ballrooms remained majestic and silent. Decidedly grand, but moreso empty. Faded and forgotten. As I stood in the middle of one such cavernous room I tried to picture the parties at sea. Diners headed from England for who knows where. My grandmother traveled in such style. I can remember a picture of her, decked out in her finest Dine with the Captain wear. I could almost hear the melody of silverware, wine being poured, waiters moving in between tables with steaming plates. Ghosts from a finer era. We don’t sail like that these days.
Later, out on deck I spotted a hole in a lifeboat. The rust of time had bore a hole in the hull and a patch of bright blue sky peeked through. I imagined the boat upon the high seas, the sky to disappear, replaced by dark, dangerous, rushing green water. Filling the boat and sinking the load. The cold of the ocean closing in over the cooling and soon chilled skin unprepared to drown.
Elevators with confusing floor numbers. Rooms for rent. A nonfloating, floating hotel. Buffet breakfasts to bring back the grandeur. Brass half shined. They still blow the horn three times a day. A signal to those all around. The Queen Mary is grounded. Going nowhere. But come aboard for eggs.

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Competition

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Borders Fun

I am conviced Borders put up a ferris wheel to attract customers. Try to tell me it’s on someone else’s property and it’s purely coincidental that I see a ferris wheel at the same time as a Borders sign and I’ll shrug. Explain to me that’s there for another reason and I won’t believe you. Try to reason with me it’s just for show and I’ll say it doesn’t matter one bit. Tell me it doesn’t work and I won’t care. It’s there. It made me look…caught my eye…made me think about books…made me want to buy a book. Now, where can I buy a book out here? Borders! Bingo! If I had been captain of my own vessel I would have been aboard the good ship Borders. Just as they planned. Or not. Ah, the magic of marketing…intentional or not. It worked on me.

PS~ If it truly is a Borders marketing ploy I don’t think they have anything to worry about. I saw only one B&N the whole time I was on the west coast. I was beginning to think they didn’t exist on the west coast. On the very last day in CA I spotted a mall with a Barnes & Noble sign. Just one.

Sleeping Giant

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Sleeping

The Long Beach aquarium (Aquarium of the Pacific) is one of the coolest in the country. We were able to visit them on their ten year anniversary! What makes them so cool? For starters, they are only ten years old. Can’t say that enough. They opened their doors to the public not only on schedule but on budget, too! But, more importantly, they were the very first aquarium to breed weedy sea dragons in captivity. That is just the most awesome thing. Actually, to be honest, the MOST awesome thing is that the Aquarium of the Pacific is home to an Olive Ridley sea turtle. How cool is that? the first time we found her she was a sleeping giant. With her head in a corner and her back to the crowd she slept in private, oblivious to us gawking tourists. Bored, my party moved on and I reluctantly followed. I didn’t want to leave the most beautiful creature in the world, sleeping or not.

I don’t know what made me go back to my sleeping giant. Something told me to visit her again. This time she was a playing swimmer, chasing a dog toy on a string. A group of us stared and laughed as she followed it higher and higher. She looked as though she wore a smile…almost as big as mine.

Say Hello

Touch-Me Houses

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Touch Me Houses

The houses on the Long Beach “shore” are so close together you are your own neighbor. They’re called Touch-Me houses because you could literally lean out your window and touch the house beside yours. These tiny, no privacy dwellings go for a cool million. All because of where they are, Bayside Long Beach, California. I was amazed at how tiny these houses (with gigantic price tags) really are. Each one of them different from the last, but oh so tiny! Are the people who live here happy? I mean really happy? Do they like their neighbor’s windows spying on theirs? Is the view worth it’s weight in privacy forsaken?

Looking at real estate in hotbed areas really puts the house hunting task into perspective. The lesson to be learned, if there is such a thing, is living within your means doesn’t have to mean living on top of your neighbor! No thank you.

Get a Room

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There is something illicit about hotel rooms. Anonymous and secretive. I don’t know what it is. When I was a kid I used to give myself chills thinking how far away from home I was, how disconnected I was from everything “safe.” I used to look at the people around me and think it a small thrill that no one I knew knew them. Yet, here I was, with them. I felt like I was getting away with something; that my life was in danger in a happy way.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s what it’s like to have an affair. Kisa and I were at our second hotel. He wanted to swim and I was chapters deep in my book. I agreed to read by the pool to keep him company. That really wasn’t necessary because frolicking in the deep end was a rather loud, giggly couple. It was obvious they were in the mood for more than a swim, but rude enough to stay where they were. Discretion be damned. Later, kisa told me he thought the man was married to someone else. It was the way the man explained things to his chirping companion as if they had just met, yet he wore a wedding band. Was this man really renting a room for romance? Did he really have a patiently ignorant someone at home?
It didn’t matter to me. All I wanted them to do was use the room they paid for.