I went to Andrew Sean Greer’s book signing on Sunday morning, and got a chance to chat with him about his lovely book, The Confessions of Max Tivoli. I bought a paperback edition of it with the intention of having him sign it so I could give it away on the blog, but I couldn’t resist keeping it. Sorry, guys. But really, if you haven’t read this amazing book, you should.
The Mountain Bar was a packed house on Saturday night for the latest in Jim Ruland’s Vermin series. The readers included (in order) Julianne Flynn, Lisa Glatt, Alex Lemon, Mark Sarvas, Steve Almond, yours truly, Ben Ehrenreich, and Dylan Landis. Julianne and I had exchanged emails a few times before Saturday so it was a pleasure to finally meet her and hear her read from her novel. Lisa Glatt wowed the house with “Soup,” an amazing story that appears in the current issue of Swink. Alex Lemon read several poems, some of which were about his brain surgery (my favorite? “M.R.I.”) Mark Sarvas read a hilariously funny excerpt from his novel Obiter Dicta (I didn’t know he could do such a great Polish accent.) Steve Almond read a very graphic piece that delighted a few people and horrified others (so what else is new?). Having read Ben Ehrenreich before, I knew he was talented, but I didn’t know he was so young. And Dylan Landis ended the evening on a high note. The material was very eclectic (funny, serious, sexy, heartbreaking) though the men readers all picked material that involved sex in one way or another. (Coincidence? you decide).
I stopped by the Vermin/Swink booth later on Saturday afternoon, and found Mark busily live blogging. Jim was sporting a Chinese hat to promote the evening’s reading in Chinatown. And Samantha Marlowe was selling copies of the newest issue of the magazine. By the time I sat down to blog, Mark’s connection was lost and so we did the next best thing: talked about blogs. People stopped by and asked us all sorts of questions–from ladies with purses (“Now what’s a blog again?”) to entrepreneurial authors (“Are you interested in reviewing my book?”) to old gentlemen foaming at the mouth (“I knew a Moorish guy once, he lived in Belize.”)
For some time now, I’ve had the feeling that, as a faith, Islam was in the midst of interesting internal changes, and so when Mark offered me his pass to go to to the Islam Now panel, I jumped on the chance. The panel was moderated by Zachary Karabell, with Adam Shatz (literary editor at The Nation) and Reza Aslan (author No god but God) discussing.
I appreciated Shatz taking issue with the title of the panel (Islam Now), which confirmed the notion that there is one islam, a monolithic faith, different from the other monotheistic religions. He talked about how it was considered a pathology that, if cured, will relieve the West of terror. In reality, he said, there are many islams, represented and lived within the Muslim world as well as in the West. (This is a view, you’ll recall, that the late Edward Said had written about extensively in a Harper’s article a while back.) And I was also in agreement with Aslan when he made the point that Islam is often set apart from other monotheistic religions when in fact there is nothing in its inception, its history, and its development over a period of time that sets it apart from other faiths like Judaism or Christianity. “Islam is not different” he said, “though that doesn’t mean it’s not unique.” The discussion touched on many topics, though I do wish the panel had included a dissenting voice so that there could be more of a dialogue between different views of Islam/islams.
The Q&A period was fairly characteristic for these sorts of events. Yes, someone asked about ‘moderate’ Muslims. Immediately, all eyes were on the four or five veiled women in the audience (i.e. the ‘visible’ Muslims) waiting for them to say something. I imagined that if that person had simply asked for all Muslims in the audience to please stand up, she’d have gotten an idea of the great diversity within the faith (encompassing both the outwardly expressions of the faith and the ones you don’t see because they don’t fit the prototypical image of the Muslim) as well as an answer to her question.
And yes, someone asked about the veil. Aslan responded that it was a women’s issue, best commented on by women themselves, though he did provide a quick background into the history of its use and how it had come to be seen as a symbol of male domination. Shatz made the point that hijab is also a political and cultural symbol, embraced by a great many women who are avowed feminists.
Later, at Aslan’s book signing, I eavesdropped shamelessly on a conversation he was having with two hijab-ed women who insisted on the veracity of a particular hadith. Aslan argued that the orthodox notion that hadith are immaculately preserved information was, well, rather nonsensical and the two women disagreed. These types of internal discussions (along with many other recent developments, like Asra Nomani‘s fight to establish women-led prayers) confirmed my feeling that this was an exciting time in the history of the faith.
We arrived in Los Angeles on Thursday night and spent all day Friday catching up with family and friends. I talked so much that I came very close to losing my voice. So I was off to a late start on Saturday at UCLA. Parking was insane, as usual, which is hardly surprising in L.A. but what did surprise me was the huge number of people in attendance. I don’t know what the number is, but it must run in the thousands. The fair had been getting bigger every year, but I missed the one last year, so the difference was even clearer to me. That raises two questions: 1) Who says people are not interested in books? And 2) Who says Angelenos don’t care about books?