Welcome to the L.A. Times Book Club newsletter.

Hello, fellow readers. I’m culture critic and fervent bookworm Chris Vognar. This week we take a look at past books that touch on subjects related to the Los Angeles fires and speak with Los Angeles native Kristin Hannah, whose Vietnam War novel “The Women,” was the best-selling book of 2024. We also look at recent releases reviewed by Times critics.

Literature to understand the fires

As the Los Angeles fires die down, thankfully, we look back on some books that might help us understand what happened and why.

“Ecology of Fear,” by Mike Davis: The late historian and author examines the relationship between natural disasters and social injustice and how Los Angeles is viewed in the media.

“Parable of the Sower,” by Octavia E. Butler: Speculative fiction set largely in a future (now present) Southern California ravaged by wild fires and climate change.

“The Big Burn,” by Timothy Egan: This nonfiction account of the wildfires that swept through the Northwest in 1910 is also the creation story of the U.S. Forest Service.

“Paradise,” by Lizzie Johnson: A deeply reported, first-person account of the 2018 Paradise, Calif., wildfire that killed 85 people.

And, one coming in May: “When It All Burns,” by Jordan Thomas: The story of one horrific fire season, written by an anthropologist and former Los Padres hotshot wildland firefighter.

(Please note: The Times may earn a commission through links to Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookstores.)

Kristin Hannah on her new bestseller

“It’s impossible to comprehend,” Hannah tells The Times after evacuating to Palm Springs during a visit with her son in La Cañada Flintridge.

(Kevin Lynch Inc.)

Kristin Hannah’s novels have a way of making bestseller lists and camping out there for a while. The native Californian’s most recent book debuted at No. 1 on the New York Times fiction list in February and showed remarkable staying power, remaining on the list for the rest of the year. The novel tells the story of Frankie, a young Coronado Island woman who leaves her idyllic life to join the Army Nurse Corps during the Vietnam War, only to return to a country that has little appreciation for, or understanding of, her service. This year also marks the 10th anniversary of Hannah’s “The Nightingale,” which is getting a rerelease with a fancy new cover and ribbon.

Hannah, who was born in Garden Grove, grew up in Huntington Beach and now lives in Washington, had some drama of her own during the recent wildfires. Visiting her son in La Cañada Flintridge, she and her family had to evacuate to Palm Springs, where she spoke to me on a video call. “We all sort of hunkered down together and had to get out of the area until the air was OK,” she said. “I’m like everybody else just watching the devastation on the news. It’s impossible to comprehend.”

What was your inspiration for “The Women”?

I initially wanted to write it because I was a child during the Vietnam War, and my best girlfriend at the time, her father was shot down and was missing in action. A lot of my friends’ dads came home from Vietnam, and even as a child you could tell that they were changed, and it was obvious that they were not welcomed with a ticker tape parade and gratitude. It just always stayed with me, and I really wanted to go back as an adult and explore this era.

Then, during the COVID-19 pandemic, I was watching the news and saw the nurses and the doctors who were on the front line, and it was pretty obvious even to a distant viewer that they were not getting the help and support that they needed. I think that’s when it all clicked in my head that I was going to write about the nurses and Vietnam in the same book. So I took the next three years to write this novel.

A lot of people talk about how the Civil War isn’t really over, but based on some of today’s cultural disputes it also can also seem like the Vietnam War isn’t over, either.

That was the other thing that struck during the pandemic: the division in the country at that moment. It felt so much like the Vietnam era. I mean, it’s different of course, but it was a time, like now, of sharp division between people, and a time when you knew that it was going to be difficult to have Thanksgiving dinner because these divisions are in our own families. That’s something that I think is so difficult and dangerous for us as a country, and it was another issue that I wanted to explore.

The week(s) in books

“In Southern California, history is, or has often been, apocalyptic,” writes David L. Ulin.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

David L. Ulin writes about Los Angeles and the literature of apocalypse. As Ulin writes, “In Southern California, history is, or has often been, apocalyptic. The city exists amid a wildfire ecology and in a seismic landscape where faults regularly slip.”

Charles McNulty, The Times’ theater critic, writes about a report on the library of iconoclastic writer Gary Indiana that arrived at an Altadena residence one day before burning in the fires, and reflects on how Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” illuminates an existential truth revealed by the devastating blazes.

Gary Goldstein speaks with fourth-generation Angeleno Lou Mathews about his new story collection, “Hollywoodski.” Mathews describes Los Angeles as “the city of a thousand villages.”

Scarlett Harris speaks with Brooke Shields about her new memoir, “Brooke Shields Is Not Allowed to Get Old.” Harris writes that “Shields is willing to poke fun at herself — and she doesn’t take herself too seriously, as past comic turns in shows such as ‘Suddenly Susan’ and ‘Friends’ attest.”

Ilana Masad reviews Erika Krouse’s story collection “Save Me, Stranger.” Masad writes, “It’s rare, in my experience, that the titles of short story collections reflect an identifiable unifying theme, but ‘Save Me, Stranger’ is full of people saving one another.”

And Chris Vognar – yo, right here – reviews Kyle Paoletta’s “American Oasis,” which argues why we’d best pay attention to the Southwest. As I write, “Paoletta wants the reader to understand how the region’s people live in unforgivingly arid terrain — because even if you don’t come to the Southwest, the Southwest will soon be coming to you.”

With that, I sign off as your faithful newsletter correspondent. A fellow bookworm will be taking the helm for the next cycle. It’s been a pleasure. Don’t forget to keep reading.