The Leisure Seeker in the Boston Globe

A very nice, very thoughtful piece about THE LEISURE SEEKER in Sunday's Boston Globe by Beverly Beckham.

Blog Silence No Longer In Effect

Well, this is the longest I've gone without blogging since I started this thing. I'm ashamed, but ignoring one's blog gets easier the longer you go without doing it. So I thought I'd just write a short entry about something cool. And only give myself 10 minutes to write it, while I waited for Rita to get ready for our trip to Eastern Market downtown. So I'm writing about the the above graphic review by Marco Rufus Petrella of the Italian edition of my story collection, THE LOST TIKI PALACES OF DETROIT. It's pretty damn cool. Marco has done reviews of all my translations into Italian and it's always interesting.

As far as I can tell, with the help of Google Translate, which isn't particularly helpful, the text is something like "In Italian, the title is 'The World of Things' (which is the name of one of the stories in the collection), but the original title is 'The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit.' Zadoorian is the writer of things nostalgic, of the Sixties, when the city was prosperous from the auto industry. Each chapter is named after a different section of the city. It is about post-industrial times and garage sales. And about the world of nerds and mono-maniacs, you know?" Whew. This is difficult.

The second panel looks like it's about someone named Arturo, who maybe works at a bookstore and looks forward to the release of the new book by Zadoorian, a sympathetic American writer." My guess is that Arturo is one of the aforementioned nerds to whom my work appeals. Frankly, that sounds about right.

I had the pleasure of meeting Marco when I was in Rome last year on my Italian book tour and I just loved the guy right off. First, he's got a vintage Vespa which sounds amazing. Second, he's obsessed with Charles Schultz. When I told him that I had been to the Charles Schultz museum in Santa Rosa, California (for I too, have a bit of a thing for "Peanuts"), it was like I had told him about a trip to Mecca. So funny. Anyway, Marco sent me this review on Facebook. I'm thinking that it may be showing up in a newspaper in Italy sometime this weekend, but I don't know for sure.

Okay, my ten minutes is almost up. I'll write again soon. Actually, I'm supposed to be in Italian Vanity Fair, but I haven't heard anything about it yet. Still, they came to our house in Ferndale to interview and photograph me, so unless it was an elaborate gag on some wily Italian's part, it very well may happen. We'll see...

Department of Self-Congratulations.

It would appear that I have won an award. The people at The Armenian Center at Columbia University in New York City have awarded me the 2009 Anahid Literary Award for The Leisure Seeker. To quote the letter, "The award also takes into account your fine work in your other books Second Hand and The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit...The purpose of the Anahid Literary Award is to recognize Armenian-American writers for their work and as an encouragement for them to continue with their creative careers." It also includes a monetary prize, which is always welcome.

Best of all, I didn't even know I was nominated. I just received an e-mail one evening from the writer Nancy Kricorian (author of the wonderful novels Zabelle and Days of Bread and Fire), telling me that I had won. It was great news and a real honor, especially since former winners include Chris Bohjalian (Skeletons at the Feast), Eric Bogosian (Wasted Beauty and Talk Radio), and Peter Balakian (The Black Dog of Fate).

Considering that there was a time not long ago where I was fairly certain that there was never going to be another novel, this is particularly gratifying. Thanks to all involved.

Okay, I'm done congratulating myself. Back to work.

New Trade Paperback of THE LEISURE SEEKER out today. Finally.

Well, good. It's finally out there in the stores. (At least I hope it is.) The new trade paperback edition of THE LEISURE SEEKER.

It's kind of cool having a paperback come out. It's definitely different than the release of a hardcover book. I suppose there is something inherently fancy (some might say elitist) about the hardcover book. It's big, expensive, bulky, almost impossible to cram it into your back pocket or purse. But a hardcover book is solid. It feels like something that someone could discover at a library or a bookstore ten, fifty, even a hundred years from now. This is the sort of thing writers tend to fantasize about. (Mine is that someone finds a copy of my novel SECOND HAND at a thrift store of the future.)

Alas, we know there are a lot of people who just don't buy hardcover books. Most people, in fact. They say, "I'll buy it when it comes out in paperback". Why? Aside from the lower price, there's something really comfortable about a paperback, like well-worn jeans or a perfectly broken-in pair of sneakers. (I have no beef with the e-book, but it will never be the same as a book book.) It's not hard to imagine someone at the New Paperback Releases table at their local indie or chain bookstore, they pick up that paperback book, with its snazzy cover and satin varnish finish and decide to take a chance on it. It doesn't hurt that it's just $13.99.

They take it home, still excited about their new purchase and start reading it right away. And a few days later, by the time they're at the last page, the book is no longer new. Maybe it's got a crease or two or three in the spine, a few folded pages, a coffee stain from reading it at breakfast, but all that is good. It doesn't mean that the book has been used up, just...christened.

I suppose the fact that I'm more likely to mess up a paperback is exactly what I like about them. Reading doesn't necessarily have to be some formal affair, all stiff and bulky and hardcovered. Sometimes it's about finding something that you can just slip into and feel right at home.

The Heavyweight Champion of Typewriters

For the past month or so, I've had the photograph above as my desktop wallpaper on my computer. And though I originally did it just because I thought it looked cool (I'm ashamed to say that I do a lot of things in my life for that very reason), it started to get under my skin. Perhaps it's just that I've been re-watching the first season of AMC's "Mad Men" (and appreciating its Art Direction and magnificent propping), but I have lately become nostalgic for the IBM Selectric.

There's no rational reason for this, I know. I love my computer. I really love it. It's probably the only thing that has allowed me to write novels. If I had to stand at a desk and write in longhand like Hemingway (why he stood, I have no idea), all I'd have to show for it would be three short-short stories and phlebitis. Even if I had to write on a typewriter these days, I'd most likely be composing haiku, lazy bastard that I am. (Case in point, right now: I'm blogging when I should be writing.)

The fact is, I'm old enough to have taught myself how to type on a giant 40 pound cast iron Royal typewriter leftover from the 1950's that I inherited from my very first job (The shipping department of Home Planners, located on Grand River Avenue in Detroit). I was unemployed after college, with a lot of free time and just starting to write, so it was time to finally learn how to type. And I had me the Packard of typewriters -- finned and out-sized, unpadded and lethal in a collision.

I didn't actually get to use an IBM Selectric until my first "real" job in advertising a few years later. This was in the 1980's when everyone was snorting cocaine and wearing keyboard ties. I remember being so thrilled seeing the Selectric when I was shown to my desk for the first time. Even though it was dangerously close to obsolete even then, mere moments before the dawn of the computer, it felt like the most modern machine I could ever use. I recall the humming noise it used to make, as well as the vibration you felt as you typed or even when you just rested your fingers on ASDF and JKL:, waiting for inspiration to strike.



It too was a heavy beast of a machine. Which makes me wonder: is there something about composing on a weighty contraption that feeds the illusion that one's work is weighty as well? What does it mean that now that writing machines are feather-light, everyone is writing -- blogs, status updates, tweets, texts (and most of it feather-light as well). Were people less likely to write when they had to operate heavy machinery to do it? ("Stay away from that thing unless you know what you're doing!") Maybe. But if that was the case, everyone would have been writing their asses off when the quill was in fashion. Then again, maybe they were. I can't remember. I'm not that old.

Still, I can't help but to long a bit for that rumbling, quivering behemoth of a typewriter with its ball of keys and the thunk it made when you closed the top, like slamming the door on a Deuce and a Quarter. Of course, here in the muzzy glow of nostalgia, I am conveniently forgetting what a pain in the ass typewriters were, specifically my aversion to typewriter ribbons. I hated those things. (Cut to me at a desk, ink on my face and hands, spewing expletives). I will happy live out my days never again soiling my fingers with accursed typewriter ink. So screw the Selectric. Huzzah technology! I still love my computer.

A noble literary experiment gone horribly wrong...

Okay, maybe it wasn't all that noble or literary, but it did go wrong.

A book reading at an RV Show. Turns out that it's not such a hot idea. It seemed like a natural, given that a recreational vehicle plays prominently in THE LEISURE SEEKER. "Why not?" I thought. " I could expose the book to a whole different audience who might truly enjoy it." Nope. Not so much. Turned out they didn't want to be exposed to my book. Or me.

My first reading at 2 p.m. was attended by about 12 people, which really wasn't that bad. I've had worse. (E.g., Austin: 4 people, which included one homeless guy who was just there to get out of the blistering sun.) Sometimes I'm happy to get into double digits, but 12 people don't seem like much when there are about 100 empty seats surrounding those loyal few. Oh, and did I mention that the stage was right next to the bouncy tent? (You know, for kids!) Not the optimal placement for a intimate literary event. But the telling moment was the 5 p.m. reading which was attended by...no one. Cue the cricket sounds. Yes. Zero attendees. Just as well. I was ready to leave by that time anyway. I was suffering from sensory overload. Too many people, too many RVs, too much ambient noise, too much bouncy tent. I'm a highly sensitive person, you know.

But those folks that were at the first reading were great and really seemed to enjoy it. Met Craig Hill, one of my Facebook pals. And Emily from Schuler Books did sell a fair amount of books. And I signed a lot of the new trade paperbacks which are now being sold before the official street-date at Schuler Bookstores around the state. And the publicity for the event was very good. Radio, newspaper, website, tweets, the whole shebang. Which is very helpful for a book coming out. Big thanks to the people behind the scenes. (I mean you, Derek.)

Anyway, one has to try these things. Besides, I was also able to go to the Hop Cat, one of my favorite new beer bars in Michigan with my good friend Dave. Which made it worth it right there. Still, I think I'm going to stick to readings at libraries and bookstores and colleges for the moment. Although I did just get a call from Truckstops of America...

The Very First Copy of the New Trade Paperback!

Okay, time for some nerdly authorial enthusiasm. I just received the new trade paperback edition of THE LEISURE SEEKER over the weekend. It doesn't actually come out until February 9th, but I got an early copy because, well, you know. (Btw, I could have also said that the book "drops" on February 9th, were I trying sound more hip hop. Luckily for everyone, I don't do that.) Anyway, I have to say that it was really exciting to receive the book.

As I mentioned earlier in this blog, the cover design is completely different from the hardcover. And though I loved the hardcover, I think this new design is just beautiful. All day Saturday, I kept walking back to the book on the desk in my study. I kept needing to pick it up, open it up, run my hands over the cover. Obviously, I'm a dork, but it was thrilling. Everything -- the satiny cover varnish, the type treatment, the back cover design, the five pages of blurbs, all of it, right down to the tiny photo on the spine of the book underlined by a stripe that matches the woman's track suit in the photograph -- reveals an incredible attention to detail. It's no wonder I couldn't keep my paws off of it.

Of course every author wants his cover to look wonderful, but it doesn't always happen that way. Though I think cover design just keeps getting better and better (Thanks, Chip Kidd!), that's no guarantee that a writer isn't going to wind up with some generic-looking cover that someone slapped together in an afternoon. I've been very lucky so far. I've pretty much loved all my covers. And since I work in a world with many artists and designers (and count them among my friends), I have very strong opinions about such things. Hence, I'm not that easy to please. But I am pleased.

Big kudos to everyone at Harper Paperbacks. First and foremost, my editor Jen Pooley, whom I know thinks and thinks and thinks about these things (I can tell by the midnight e-mails from her); Robin Bilardello, who did the lovely cover design; the photographer Andy Reynolds, as well as the author photograph by my friend John Roe of Roe Photo. Thank you all. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pet my book.