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While growing up in Palo Alto, it was not uncommon for animator Lisa Hanawalt to pretend she was a horse. This game of make-believe was a way for Hanawalt to escape her “burdensome and awkward” body, as she writes in her candid new illustrated memoir, “I Can’t Stop Thinking About Horses And Sex.” “But when I was a horse, I was powerful, graceful, and gorgeous.”

Although Hanawalt might be an unapologetic horse girl, she really hates a horse pun. So when it came time to choose a title for the book, she decided to keep it literal. “This is just the most true version of what this book actually is,” Hanawalt says about the utterly confessional nature of her book’s title, which groups two seemingly unrelated subjects that her mind wanders to when she’s bored. “They’re the two most mentally engaging things I can imagine,” she writes as a self-described “anixous lil freak.”

“I Can’t Stop Thinking About Horses and Sex” by Lisa Hanawalt

(Drawn & Quarterly)

Sitting in her Los Angeles home, the designer of such adult animated touchstones as Netflix’s “BoJack Horseman,” “Long Story Short,” and her personal creation “Tuca & Bertie” is drinking from a mug of tea as we chat over Zoom. When I ask what people’s responses have been so far to her book’s cheeky title, she says, “They just laugh. A lot of them are just like, ‘Well, I have to read that.’”

In many ways, “I Can’t Stop” represents a culmination of Hanawalt’s shtick for truth-telling via colorful anthropomorphized characters. The 43-year-old’s sketches are famously loose, bright and unrefined. Topics like weird body stuff, sex and horniness are never off the table. A typical drawing might feature an animal-human hybrid (say, a bird head on a human body) doing something utterly mundane while Hanawalt’s inner monologue appears in thought bubbles to reveal an intensely personal thought most people would never say out loud, let alone publish in a book.

“They all have personal things in them, some more overtly than others,” Hanawalt says about her particular oeuvre, which includes 2013’s “My Dirty Dumb Eyes,” 2016’s “Hot Dog Taste Test,” 2018’s “Coyote Doggirl” and 2020’s archival collection “I Want You,” as well as countless contributions over the years to publications like the New York Times, McSweeney’s, Vanity Fair and the now-defunct women’s humor blog the Hairpin.

“I think [‘I Can’t Stop Thinking About Horses and Sex’] fits in with ‘My Dirty Dumb Eyes’ and ‘Hot Dog Taste Test’ in that it’s another kind of mishmash book, and it all goes together in my mind,” Hanawalt adds of her nonlinear storytelling, which in this book intersperses memories of couples therapy and egg-freezing with drawings of a sloth dancing with a bear. Or a deep dive on the filmography of Kevin Costner.

Hanawalt has never shied away from getting personal, but there’s no question that “I Can’t Stop” takes her disarming and revelatory style to a new level. “I think it just needed that extra layer of me going through a midlife crisis and breaking up with my partner and going through all this weird stuff. It’s a weird combo with the horse stuff because my love of horses is so pure.”

An illustration from “I Can’t Stop Thinking About Horses and Sex” by Lisa Hanawalt.

(Drawn & Quarterly)

If Hanawalt ever felt embarrassment at being a horse girl (and she certainly has — as she got older, Hanawalt eased off of the horse games out of fear of being bullied), that shame has since evaporated. About eight years ago, as she faced a combination of career burnout and gut-health issues, Hanawalt started taking riding lessons in an attempt at self-care. “There’s something about riding that clears my head and eases my physical pain, for a moment,” she writes in a comic titled “How I Got a Horse.” When her then-partner (comedian and podcaster Adam Conover) noted how relaxed Hanawalt seemed when she’d return home from riding, he urged her to consider buying a horse of her own.

So Hanawalt reactivated her dormant Facebook account and began scrolling through local horse sale groups. That’s where she discovered Juniper (“Juni” for short), a 2006 Norwegian Fjord Mare. “I bought her somewhat impulsively,” Hanawalt says. “It was a huge lifestyle shift. Having a horse is often very stressful because it’s like a pet you have to rent an apartment for. It’s expensive, and they injure themselves … But then, being with her, I’m present in a way that I never am in the rest of my life. It just feels nice to care for another creature, human or animal.”

Spending time with Juni and a cast of new friends at the stables was physically and emotionally therapeutic for Hanawalt, particularly as new issues began to sneak up on her. For instance, she began to wonder if she still wanted to remain child-free. Simultaneously, her long-term relationship of 14 years was beginning to come apart. She describes in the book how she and Conover made a Hail Mary attempt at ethical nonmonogamy — an experience she’s glad to have had, even if Hanawalt jokes today about how she’s “a true polyamory fail.” She adds, “I don’t think it’s for me at all, and I never did. But I was willing to give it a go [as a] last-ditch effort to save something I really cared about. I think that’s the case for a lot of people.”

An illustration from “I Can’t Stop Thinking About Horses and Sex” by Lisa Hanawalt.

(Drawn & Quarterly)

Hanawalt admits how anxious she was to talk about her breakup in the book — so much so that she considered avoiding it altogether. “I was dancing around it, and then I was like, ‘I don’t need to explain every little part of it,’” she says. Hanawalt even solicited creative feedback from Conover, who responded by playing her bits of a new stand-up special, which showcased his perspective of their breakup (that special will be the forthcoming “Big Divorce Energy,” out Oct. 23 on YouTube).

“It’s really nice that we still have that kind of relationship,” Hanawalt says of her ongoing connection and friendship with Conover. “Because I really value his opinion and input. He’s just a really smart, creative person, and that was always a strong point in our relationship. I also just wanted him to be OK with how I was representing us. I’m still very protective of that.”

The latter half of “I Can’t Stop” finds Hanawalt processing the end of her relationship, dipping a toe back into the dating world, and exploring fertility options such as egg-freezing. Despite its heavy subject matter — one especially tough passage looks back at a sexual assault Hanawalt experienced when she was an adolescent — “I Can’t Stop” is packed with absurdist doodles that keep the mood light without seeming dismissive. For example, as she describes how Juni behaves when she’s in heat, Hanawalt considers her own overwhelming “livestock mode,” which once included a hyper-fixation on Kevin Costner. This is all laid out in a section titled “Costner Watch,” where Hanawalt decides to consume every film the actor ever made.

Artist and author Lisa Hanawalt with her beloved horse Juniper.

(Annie Noelker / For The Times)

“Yeah, I was losing my mind,” Hanawalt laughs at “Costner Watch.” “I don’t know. It was a cope, in hindsight.”

As she prepares to celebrate the release of “I Can’t Stop” with a six-date book tour, Hanawalt can’t say for sure if she’s answered any existential midlife questions. She jokes that her eggs are “still on ice.” She’s working on several new animation projects, though isn’t sure at this point which, if any, will move forward. (It probably also doesn’t help that the animation industry is currently experiencing a severe downturn, with record-high unemployment among even the most seasoned creators. “It’s a weird time,” she says.) To round things out, Hanawalt says she’s “selling hats” and even working with a perfume maker to eventually release a “horsey-themed” fragrance.

Hanawalt also has no clue what being a self-proclaimed horse girl even means in the year 2026. The other horse people she hangs out with at the barn, where Juni lives, come from “every possible income level and political belief, and they’re all kind of shoved together,” Hanawalt tells me. “It’s kind of like ‘Lord of the Flies.’

“It’s just so fun to have a community with people and be able to trust them,” Hanawalt says of the friendships she’s made through caring for Juni. “We help each other. Just to be able to go out on the trail and talk about blow jobs or whatever with women I truly connect to … They’re some of the coolest people I’ve ever met in my whole life.”

All that is to say, Hanawalt has grown more comfortable in not quite knowing what’s next. “You’re never fully happy or fulfilled,” she says. “And that’s part of being alive.”

Catch Lisa Hanawalt live Oct. 22 at 7 p.m. at Skylight Books in conversation with Priyanka Mattoo. 1818 N. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles.

Brodsky is an L.A. culture and music writer. Her biography of Stevie Nicks, “Lessons & Lace,” published by Penguin Random House, is out now.

Genres Book Society, a new bookshop coming to L.A., is hiding a few secrets. The first indication that something a bit fantastical is going on here is the fact that the boutique store has a mascot.

Look up upon entering the space, and you’ll meet Lore. Lore is a dragon, and this dragon is made of books. The striking sculpture will hover over a cozy space with modular bookshelves that are arranged on a floor covered in book quotes. Peer closely and you’ll see the quotes are designed in the shape of a tree.

A story is being built, a narrative that signifies that Genres aims to be not just a bookshop, but a place that feels like a real-life fairy tale. For this bookstore is also concealing a speakeasy of sorts, a secluded cafe and bar with multiple themed spaces and a two-story tree with glowing books growing out of its branches.

Stories, Genres is telling us, are life.

“This is for people who want to enter into story worlds,” says Ann Morrow Johnson of design firm Gensler. Johnson, a former creative with Walt Disney Imagineering, leads Gensler’s entertainment and experiences division, which is designing the bookshop.

She wants guests to feel transported into a fantasy universe, and understands how to make that happen. For instance? “Adding just a little bit of theatricality and sparkle helps create an invitation of suspension of disbelief,” she says.

The centerpiece of Genre’s bookstore, shown in an artist’s rendering, will be a dragon named Lore.

(Gensler)

Genres, on track to open in mid-2027 near the intersection of Melrose and Fairfax avenues, is tapping into a local trend of heavily designed thematic spaces with a penchant for fantasy. Think, for instance, of the Witch’s Cottage in North Hollywood, or the Last Canteen in the shadow of Universal Studios Hollywood. Consider it the latest evolution of the themed restaurant, and a way to bring the heavily theatrical worlds of theme parks closer to home. Johnson, for instance, says the firm’s research with the the Immersive Experience Institute has shown a hunger in younger generations to embrace spaces such as the Rainforest Cafe.

“People are seeking out a moment,” Johnson says. “Those more theatrical, highly scenic spaces are more likely to get you off your phone. Little moments of delight center you.”

Genres was dreamed up Clare Grant and Karissa Marston, who brought the project to Gensler and tapped them to lead its design. Grant, an actor/producer, says the idea came to her while experiencing the regret of missing a retreat hosted by her girlfriends, who had rented a cabin to read the latest edition in the fantasy “Crescent City” series.

“Just having a newborn, I was like, ‘Why can’t I go read this book in a fantasy-themed cabin?’ That’s literally my dream,” Grant says. “Then I started thinking about it. Why don’t I have something like this in Los Angeles, where I can pop in for an afternoon or evening where someone is handing me drinks and food in an immersive space?”

Marston, it turns out, who has experience in hospitality and marketing with an emphasis on fandom, was already dreaming of such a space. The two of them crafted a business plan for a bookstore, one that wouldn’t look out of place in a sword and sorcery fantasy novel, with a hidden speakeasy.

“I was in Paris, and I went to the Shakespeare bookstore, and it was truly the most magical experience I have ever had,” Marston says. “I walked in and felt so immersed in the books and the history and I went up to the second floor and sat up there and wept. I was like, ‘I never want to leave this place. I only ever want to feel this way and be surrounded by books and people who love books.’”

Their vision is grand. The bookstore, they hope, will become a gathering spot for authors in the fantasy and sci-fi realms. And they talk of the speakeasy as not just being a safe eatery to sit and read all day, but also a future venue for, say, immersive theater. The two-story space will house multiple themed rooms, either for hanging out and hiding, or for potential events.

“I think it’s safe to say that if you wanted to be transported to outer space, you would be pleasantly surprised,” Marston says. “Or if you wanted to escape to Dracula’s castle or some of these other really big genres that you have, readers will be pleasantly surprised at the worlds that we are building.”

Johnson says Genres will be flexible enough to welcome introverts who want to dream away the day with a book, but can also be a home for a baby shower in addition to an author signing or a theatrical event. That’s in part why the shop and ground floor of the speakeasy have a familiar fantasy vibe, one not out of place in, say, the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm, albeit with the welcoming tone of Disney.

Genres’ founders cited “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” as an inspiration for the bookshop’s bar, depicted in an artist’s rendering.

(Gensler)

“The focal point of the space is this sort of epic woodland fantasy,” Marston says. “When we first brought this to Gensler, and showed them our inspo deck, we kept saying ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’”

That’s key, as everything in the space will spring from the written word. Genres, in that sense, also feels refreshing, emphasizing actual books and tactile media at a cultural moment when AI is often dominating conversations. Grant and Marston speak of being influenced by passionate social media creators who celebrate books, wanting to build a community as much as an event space. A prerequisite to be a bartender, says Marston, will need to be a love of books.

“We’re calling all our bartenders book-tenders,” Marston says. “Not only will they be well-versed in all things spirits and cocktails, but they are also someone who can give you the next book recommendation. These are very specialized employees. They can curate cocktails and books for you.”

Consider Genres a place for dinner and drinks, but one where story is always on the menu.

“People are craving more than dinner,” Grant says. “They want experience. They want magical memories that can get them through harder moments because nothing is easy right now. People want to spend money on something that is more than just dinner or going to a bar. Like whimsy.”

On a blazing hot Silver Lake morning, ushering in yet another heatwave day, Anna Holmes and I say “no” to a steamy sidewalk table at Millie’s Cafe, opting instead for an indoor, air-conditioned spot. Our server reads our order back to us, shaking his head in theatrical disbelief. “Pancakes. French toast. Biscuit. Waffle with whipped cream.” He glances from one of us to the other. “No protein?” he asks. “Just the carbs?”

“I guess I’ll have some egg whites, too,” I cave. Not so my brunch companion who confirms, “Just the carbs.” Holmes grins, “I’m not a fan of fad diets that make women hate ourselves.”

In fact, Holmes has built a career of saying “no” to woman-hating of all kinds — starting in 2007, when she founded the boundary-pushing feminist website Jezebel, the sister site of the notoriously provocative Gawker. “I decided that NO would be our mantra of sorts,” she writes in her new book, “The Power of No: A Celebration.” “‘No’ to diet tips, ‘no’ to sexist gossip, ‘no’ to conspicuous consumption. We drove the point home again and again … creating new definitions and examples of what it means to be female.”

Raised in a biracial, working-class family in Davis, Calif., Holmes escaped to New York at 18, chasing her writer’s dream. “Davis was a safe, homogenous little town,” she tells me, spearing one of the sliced strawberries fanned prettily across her waffle. “Being Black, I wasn’t one of the homogenies. I couldn’t wait to get out.”

“The Power of No: A Celebration” by Anna Holmes

(Crown)

Accepted by several top universities, Holmes said ‘yes’ to New York University. “They gave me money,” she explains. “And they had a journalism school.” After graduating, Holmes grabbed a rung on the media ladder and started climbing: writing and editing for Glamour, InStyle and Entertainment Weekly. Holmes published her first book, “Hell Hath No Fury: Women’s Letters from the End of the Affair,” featuring a collection of breakup letters from the likes of Anaïs Nin, Charlotte Brontë and Sylvia Plath, in 2002.

“So, you’ve always been a slacker,” I say.

Holmes laughs. “I come by my drive honestly. It stems from my fear of failure. And growing up lower-middle class, without the kinds of connections the wealthier kids had.”

Next came the breakthrough media success of Jezebel. Her project quickly reached 10 million monthly views, exceeding Gawker’s. But the bold irreverence that drew droves of devoted readers to Jezebel brought contention, too. In June 2010, Jezebel reported that women’s exclusion from senior positions at “The Daily Show” — which the article called a “boys’ club” — was “frustrating and alienating” for women. The story earned an on-air mention by Jon Stewart, who announced “Jezebel thinks I’m a sexist prick” — and an open letter signed by more than 30 female “Daily Show” employees, refuting Jezebel’s allegations.

Author Anna Holmes.

(Annie Noelker / For The Times)

Weeks later, under the header “How feminist blogs like Jezebel gin up page views by exploiting women’s worst tendencies,” former Gawker employee Emily Gould wrote in Slate, “When Jezebel was founded, it proposed itself as an explicit alternative to traditional women’s magazines … but the easiest way for Jezebel writers to be provocative is to stoke readers’ insecurities — just in a different way.”

Holmes says some Jezebel haters were anti-feminist or far-right. “Others were politically aligned with Jezebel, but felt we were too pop-culture-focused. Some accused us of being snarky to other women,” she adds.

After three years, Holmes resigned. “I’d done what I went to Jezebel to do,” she says. “Also, the 14-hour workdays were threatening my marriage, my sanity and my health. I was smoking too much. Drinking too much. Gaining weight.”

Holmes said a final goodbye to her creation in 2013 by publishing “The Book of Jezebel: An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Lady Things.” Despite — and because of — having founded one of the internet’s most provocative publications, she helped lift up journalists, and journalism, in her wake.

“I would follow Anna off of a cliff, professionally and personally,” says Reyhan Harmanci, Wired’s editorial director, who reported to Holmes at Topic magazine a decade ago. “She channels her curiosity in a way that opens the world to readers.”

Former Gawker editor A.J. Daulerio also lights up at the mention of Holmes’ name. “If you look back at Anna’s history of finding and developing talent, you can see her impact. Writers who’ve worked with and for her can be found on podcasts, on mastheads at major publications and on bestseller lists.” Meanwhile, New York magazine’s Emily Gould, who wrote the biting Slate critique of Jezebel in 2010, has come to admire Holmes. “Nobody’s right 100% of the time,” Gould says, “especially when publishing around the clock and reacting to news as it unfolds. My current sense of Anna is that she’s genuinely brave, clear-sighted and wise. I’m eager to read her new book.”

Post-Jezebel, Holmes wrote the “Bookends” column for the New York Times Book Review. Her byline grew a few picas when she replaced Roxane Gay as editor of the Times’ popular “Work Friend” column. Having “made it there,” Holmes decided to leave New York.

“I never considered myself a New Yorker,” she says, stirring a foam flower into her latte. “When people asked, I’d say, ‘I’m from California but I live in New York.’”

While deliberating about where to go next, Holmes says, “I got a job offer with the Obamas’ production company in L.A.”

“The Obamas?” I blurt. Holmes nods. “I was tired of New York. And wanting to be closer to my elderly mom.” In the first week of the COVID shutdown, Holmes packed her two hissing black cats, donned an N95 mask and flew to LAX. Six years later, after several moves around town, she shares the upper half of a sun-splashed 1920s duplex with Ewok and Harriet.

“I didn’t have a writing community in New York and I don’t have one here,” Holmes says about her L.A. move. “I had a media community in New York. If that exists here, I’m not invited to those parties.” She cocks her head. “Every once in a while, I wonder, ‘Does Susan Orlean have regular salons? And if so, can I please go?’”

Holmes continues to settle into a slower, more domestic groove. “I’m 53 now,” she says. “I don’t want to go out all the time. I like going to bed early. All the cliches are true of me: moving from NYC to L.A. and ending up in Silver Lake — with a Volvo, no less. In my defense, I dress like a tomboy, I don’t have tattoos and I’ve never been to Bar Stella.”

Since her big move, Holmes has written “The Power of No” and is finishing up her fourth book, a sexual memoir. Her articles on wildly divergent topics continue to appear in the New York Times, the New Yorker, the Atlantic and L.A. Material.

“The Power of No” is a slim but impactful guide to the human dance between yes and no; vulnerability and ambition. The book consists of readily digestible yet smart, sophisticated bits, including quotes from luminaries, research findings, anecdotes from Holmes’ own life and others, practical tips, and lists like “Ways to Say No” (which is especially helpful to have on hand during the upcoming holiday season).

“No,” Holmes writes on Page 1: “As uttered by a woman, a provocation. Has there ever been a more fraught relationship between women and word?” By way of example, she cites what she calls “my biggest NO, my strongest rejection of what was expected of me as a woman: founding Jezebel.”

“Has writing about ‘no’ made you better at saying it?” I ask Holmes.

“I don’t purport to be good at it,” she answers. “But I’m more cognizant now of wanting to say it, at least.”

Maran, author of “The New Old Me” and other books, lives in Silver Lake.

What is pornography? We tend to think of it monolithically, as something created by and for hetero men, reinforcing sexist stereotypes and machismo behavioral codes. For over 20 years, Erika Lust has been fighting against those preconceptions, creating adult content that expands the parameters of pornography while approaching it as something akin to mainstream independent cinema. Her subscription-only website features content that leaps over gender boundaries, and has pulled in fans around the globe.

In her new book “Lust,” the filmmaker makes a convincing case for an ethical, intelligent porn that can expand our ideas about sex and intimacy. I recently chatted with Lust about sex, power and the internet.

✍️ Author Chat

Are we calling it pornography? Adult content? What do you call it?

For me, it is pornography. What I do is pornography because I work with explicit images, but I also work with cinema, and I strive for cinematic vision and craft. I don’t just pick up a camera, film people having sex and put it online. It is a whole creative process. So when I talk about my work, I see myself first as a filmmaker whose subject matter happens to be pornography.

What compelled you to create adult content?

I was born in Sweden, and I became a feminist quite young. I studied political science in college. When I was exploring my sexuality in my late teens and early twenties, I became more and more interested in finding out about our desires and who we are and what we are attracted to. And then I started to watch porn [and] felt horrible watching it. I felt a little bit troubled by the images. Why are all these female characters just there to please the man? It wasn’t about the women, it wasn’t their stories, and that made me feel a bit angry. When I talked to other women about this, they felt the same way. I felt there was something to explore there. Of course at the time, I had no idea I would be doing this for a living.

There are a lot of tired tropes about adult content that you debunk in your book. That the performers come from broken homes and are forced to do things on camera without their consent and so on.

It’s so easy for people to think that in the sex industry there’s going to be exploitation. But my experience is the opposite. Because people I work with dare to talk about sex. The conversation is over the table, not under the table. The people I have met and worked with in this business are intelligent and smart, with a very clear plan of their future. They take care of themselves, their bodies and their sexuality.

In “Lust,” Erika Lust debunks tropes and stereotypes surrounding the production of pornography.

(Jahel Guerra)

How has technology affected how we think about sex?

There’s a lot of sex anxiety going on in our society, and I think that also has a lot to do with technology and how it has taken over our lives. And I’m reading more articles about the intimacy crisis, and the fear that people have of connecting with other people, and young people who are not having sex. Technology has gone wild. It has taken over our lives. People are afraid of other people, of friction, of negotiating boundaries. They don’t know how to explain their own desires so they would rather talk to robots. I think we need to disconnect from technology, and think more deeply and talk to each other — not just about sex, but about everything.

Given the ubiquity of free adult content on the web, how do you compel customers to subscribe to your site?

I think people that subscribe are looking for something completely different, something more elevated, and they understand that that kind of film costs money. I can’t shoot without paying my crew and my staff. Shooting with an Alexa camera is not the same thing as picking up my mobile phone. And then I need crew members who can work with that technology, I need gaffers and electricians, I need to pre-light the set the day before, and so on. The budgets that I’m working with are really budgets for independent films. We have a staff of 45 working with me and my husband.

It’s the last artistic underground, really. I did notice that Bruce LaBruce, a filmmaker whom you mention in your book, has a collection of his films presently being shown on Criterion Channel.

I never think it’s going to become mainstream. My true hope is that we can at least be known as an independent porn culture making quality films that aren’t exploitative. That people understand that it exists, and that it’s an option apart from the mainstream porn websites.

This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Chuck Lorre has written a memoir, “Sitcom,” about his career

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

How does Bonnie Garmus follow her blockbuster 2022 novel “Lessons in Chemistry”? With “Peck & Peck,” a “whimsical and winning ode to the written word, and send-up of the pretensions of its gatekeepers,” writes Leigh Haber.

Chuck Lorre, one of the most successful and prolific writers and producers in TV history, has written “Sitcom,” a memoir in which he reveals, among other things, his decade-long tenure as a card-carrying Scientologist. Writing the book “was cathartic,” he tells Mary McNamara. “There’s a little bit of therapy going on in this book. I got to say some things out loud that in the past I would have kept hidden because they were embarrassing.”

At a time when it seems like anger and hostility has become the fossil fuel of everyday life, author and conflict expert Priya Parker’s new book “The Art of Fighting” argues for civil and spirited debate as a balm for our troubled times. “As a conflict resolution facilitator for the last 25 years, I can say that healthy community needs healthy conflict,” Parker tells Margaret Wappler.

Finally, Maddie Connors talked to Michael Douglas about his new memoir, “One Helluva Ride,” a book about his life and career. “Your 80s may be a good time to share,” the 82-year-old actor tells Connors. “People interested in movies, we give them a certain insight into the process, and maybe they could learn something. For others, it’s just gossip.”

📖 Bookstore Faves

Formerly a pop-up bookstand, Reverie Bookstand is a brick-and-mortar bookstore on Sunset Boulevard in Echo Park.

(Reverie Bookstand)

Located on a busy stretch of Sunset Boulevard in Echo Park, Reverie Bookstand is doing its level best to buck the AI tsunami, selling used books created by humans in a variety of subjects. In an email exchange, owner Tim Horner tells us what’s selling in his store.

What prompted you to open the store?

I was driving by and I saw it was for lease. I had been selling books for some years as a scout for other bookstores, and also at flea markets where I would pop up with a ”bookstand.” So it wasn’t a brand new idea; I had always dreamt of it. The owner of the building was a part of a small team that ran a collective DIY venue and gallery called Echo Curio around 12 years ago. It has since shut down, but Echo Curio was a place I came to as a young person back in the day. So the landlord was sympathetic to the cause and the idea of having a bookstore here. So I went for it.

What genres does the store tend to emphasize?

I specialize in poetry, mysticism, occult and out-of-print secondhand books and paper goods. All the books here in the store are used books. So far it hasn’t been difficult to keep the shelves full, I know some spots.

Who are you customers?

The clientele here is diverse. Students, working-class people, artists, local neighborhood families, musicians and people from all walks of life who simply love books and reading. A thing I am grateful for is how kindhearted and empathetic (most) book people are. It gives me a lot of strength and motivation everyday to know that my book-buying addiction is not in vain but is actually going to some strange use in helping connect people with literature.

What’s selling right now?

The things that are selling the most are things California-related and writers from California especially — Joan Didion, John Steinbeck, Octavia Butler.

Why do we still need bookstores when AI can write books for us?

I think bookstores are relevant still because we all need some type of human connection for our well-being, and books encourage that behavior. Whether it’s connecting with a space and people or connecting with authors, a bookstore is a place where you can actually browse for something and be in the moment with other people that are possibly interesting. The gesture alone validates itself in that you’re telling the world. I am open to ideas, things, places, people, and along the way you find a book you didn’t know existed, a nicer copy of something you already have, or a book you’ve been meaning to read but had forgotten about. And until this point there is no tangible way to browse for these things I have online yet and hopefully ever.

Reverie Bookstand is located at 1519 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles.

Actor Tom Arnold unleashed on Chuck Lorre on X in response to the former “Roseanne” writer-producer’s claims in his new memoir, “Sitcom.”

“He thinks he’s brilliant & beloved like Norman Lear but Chuck ‘Chuckles’ Lorre’s a terrible human, an angry dry drunk who lies every time he opens his mouth,” Arnold wrote Tuesday.

Arnold and the ’90s sitcom’s co-creator and titular star, Roseanne Barr, were married Jan. 20, 1990, four months after he first appeared on the show as a poker pal of Barr’s TV husband and four days after Barr’s real-life divorce from her husband of 14 years, William Pentland, was finalized.

Barr and Arnold were hostile to their writing and producing colleagues on the show and the network, Lorre told the Los Angeles Times’ culture critic Mary McNamara in an interview published Tuesday, the day of the book’s release.

“We were punished, the writers,” Lorre told The Times. “The word ‘cruelty’ comes to mind. And I still don’t know why, why so much cruelty. It wasn’t like we didn’t want to make a great show. We were proud to be on that show.”

Hired in 1990 after Barr fired all of the show’s writers, Lorre recalls in the book that he had a rude awakening when he took the job.

“I was now the co–executive producer on the number one show on television. I swaggered into the office assigned to me and met Danny Jacobson (a world-class comedy writer who would go on to cocreate ‘Mad About You’ with, sorry, Paul — ‘My Two Dads’ — Reiser),” Lorre writes in “Sitcom.”

Chuck Lorre, pictured in 2024, related several anecdotes in his book “Sitcom” that didn’t sit well with Tom Arnold.

(Willy Sanjuan / Invision / Associated Press)

“Danny, having been fired by Roseanne for being talented, was packing up his stuff when I walked in. He showed me a sloppy, hand-scribbled couple of pages and explained this was a ‘script’ by the show’s new executive producer, Tom Arnold. It had been part of Danny’s job to write real scripts and put Tom’s name on the front page — as if Tom had written them,” Lorre continues. “Bob, myself, and several other staff writers would be ordered to do this on many occasions…. Was it a portent of bad things to come? You tell me.”

For her part, Barr admitted after the 1990 firings, “Yeah, I probably was difficult to work with, now looking back.”

“I don’t think I was as especially clear as I could have been,” Barr told former Times television writer Rick Du Brow in a November 1990 article. “It’s like being a woman and an administrator — I never had any background like that. I didn’t know how, like I do now, to go in and say, ‘This is what I want you to do.’ I think that’s common with women in business. I would go in there and try to get them to agree with me rather than tell them what I want to do.”

Arnold’s social media screed doesn’t directly address any of Lorre’s claims in the book but resorts to name-calling and his own claims against the producer, who went on to create or co-create sitcom hits including “Cybill,” “Dharma & Greg,” the Charlie Sheen-starring “Two and a Half Men” and “The Big Bang Theory” and its offshoots.

“He trashes Trump but he is Trump & he’s a bitter hack who actually believes his lame vanity cards at the end of his lame shows are Paddy Chayefsky worthy,” Arnold wrote, invoking the three-time Oscar-winning writer of “Network.” “Chuckle’s made $800,000,000 off the backs of very talented women & a naive cracked up Charlie Sheen (clean & sober since he’s not under Lorre’s strange, abusive tutelage) then trashes them all to make him feel cool but don’t worry, Chuck hates himself more than we ever could.”

Lorre’s accounts of Arnold in “Sitcom” included several other anecdotes, including one seemingly questioning the “True Lies” and “The Stupids” star’s trustworthiness.

“Executive Producer Tom was angrily explaining to Bob [Myer] and me that some bastard had stolen Roseanne’s love letters to him and sold them to the National Enquirer. His plan was to hire a private detective and get to the bottom of this treachery. And he did. It took one day. The detective found a cashed check for twenty-five grand from the National Enquirer made out to Tom Arnold. Mystery solved.”

Lorre was famously fired after two years on the show, which Arnold recalled in concluding his X post: “I wish everyone could’ve seen his arrogant, sad clown face the day Roseanne made me fire him.”

Barr later fired Arnold from “Roseanne” in 1994 amid their divorce. In 2018, after posting a racist tweet, Barr was fired from the “Roseanne” reboot, which was resurrected as spinoff “The Conners.”

IF you’re after an insanely affordable holiday, then there is a fantastic travel website you need to know about.

Opodo offers flights, hotels, car hire and package holiday deals for prices that will make you do a double take.

We’ve found hotels in Marrakech from £16, return flights to Barcelona from £21 and even entire Tenerife holidays from £147pp, to name but a few.

So whether you’re looking to book a family holiday, a couples getaway or even a solo travel retreat, here’s our round-up of the best Opodo deals right now.

Browse affordable deals on Opodo – package hols from £92pp

Alicante – £117pp

Hop on a two-and-a-half-hour flight over to Alicante to soak up some rays on a stunning stretch of Spanish coast, with sizzling highs of 25°C in October.

Postiguet is the main beach here, sitting at the foot of Mount Benacantil and watched over by Santa Barbara Castle.

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Once you’re done topping up your tan, you can hike up to the spectacular castle to soak up panoramic views of the Mediterranean coastline for free.

With package deals from £117pp, a quick sunny Spanish getaway might be closer than you’d think.

Browse Alicante package holidays from £117pp

Rome – £119pp

You do not need to spend a fortune to visit Rome, with Opodo’s package holiday deals starting from £119pp.

Rome is a giant, open-air museum where simply wandering the cobbled streets to toss a coin in the Trevi Fountain or marvel at the Pantheon costs absolutely nothing.

Plus if you time your trip to include the first Sunday of the month, visits to state museums, attractions and even the Colosseum offer free entry.

Head across the river to the buzzing Trastevere neighbourhood for authentic €3 pizza by the slice and €5 Aperol Spritzes.

Browse Rome package holidays from £119pp

Tenerife – £147pp

Tenerife is a classic, affordable winter sun destination, with highs of 26°C in October and still sitting at toasty highs of 24°C in November.

The flight is only four hours from the UK for these sunny temperatures, and once you’re there, there are loads of ways to enjoy all that sunshine.

Stroll the sweeping volcanic beaches of Costa Adeje, enjoy €3 tapas in traditional tavernas or go whale watching on an unforgettable boat tour.

Make sure to check out Siam Park, a paradise for waterpark fans which has been crowned the world’s No.1 waterpark for 10 consecutive years by Tripadvisor.

Browse Tenerife package holidays from £147pp

Athens – £162pp

Ancient historical sites, snazzy rooftop bars, amazing Greek food – Athens is an underrated choice when it comes to city breaks.

The famous Acropolis of Athens is a must-visit. To stretch your cash, buy a €30 combo ticket which gets you into seven major archaeological sites.

When it comes to cheap eats, you can grab some delicious pork or chicken gyros stuffed with chips and tzatziki for around €3, before hitting the bars for a €2 Mythos beer.

This deal includes a stay at the Sparta Team Hotel, which is only a 12-minute taxi ride or 20-minute walk away from the Acropolis.

Browse Athens package holidays from £162pp

Paris – £92pp

Enjoy a chic getaway to the French Capital with friends or your partner for under £100 each.

Take in the city with strolls along the Seine, or venture to the cobbled hills of Montmartre to take in sweeping views of the city from the Sacre-Coeur basilica.

For a budget-friendly feast, skip the expensive restaurants and hit up a local boulangerie. Grab a fresh baguette, a wedge of creamy brie, and a cheap bottle of supermarket wine for a delicious Parisian picnic.

Book yourself a £92 package getaway or a £46 return flight with Opodo, and you can say Bonjour to your next bargain escape.

Browse Paris package holidays from £92pp

Prices correct at the time of publication.

BOOKING a budget-friendly family getaway has never been easier.

If you want to keep the whole family entertained on holiday without breaking the bank, one of the UK’s top holiday park operators is rolling out some seriously unmissable deals.

Parkdean Resorts is offering action-packed family hols including all inclusive getaways, Nickelodeon Weekenders for Paw Patrol fans, and Tots Breaks where kids eat completely free.

Better yet, these breaks start from an unbelievably cheap £6.19 per person, per night. Here’s our favourite Parkdean offers on right now.

All inclusive breaks

Forget the faff of cooking and supermarket runs on your next caravan holiday, as 45 Parkdean Resorts across the UK offer all-inclusive meal packages.

The deal is available at popular parks including Camber Sands, Highfield Grange, and mega resort Trecco Bay, which is the one of the largest holiday parks in Europe.

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The 45 UK holiday parks with ‘all inclusive breaks’ from £25 a night

The all inclusive offer bundles in three hot, sit-down meals a day in the site’s main restaurant alongside unlimited soft drinks and hot drinks.

This means you can start every morning with a cooked breakfast, enjoy crowd-pleasing lunch options like burgers and curries, and sip on bottomless Costa Coffees.

The all inclusive option works as an add-on to the cost of your stay and starts from £80 per adult and £30 per child (under 12) for a four-night break.

That works out to a bargain £20 per night for grown-ups and £7.50 per child.

The all inclusive offer is available for four night breaks with Monday arrivals, excluding the school holidays.

However 14 of the parks are offering three-night weekend options, too. Click here to browse which ones.

Tots Breaks

Keeping toddlers entertained and well-fed on holiday can be exhausting and expensive, but Parkdean Resorts has come up with the ultimate solution.

Their brilliant ‘Tots Breaks‘ are tailor-made for families with under-fives, with four-night stays starting from £99.

That works out to £6.19 per person, per night for a family of four.

Best of all, kids eat completely free for the entire holiday.

Little ones get complimentary breakfasts, lunches, and dinners from the Starland Krew Menu, with hits like beef burgers, tomato pasta, and chicken strips, saving families up to £70 on their food bill.

There are plenty of activities designed for young children, too.

Under-fives can dive into messy play, soft play, sing-a-long Tots & Tunes music sessions, or even tackle an adorable obstacle course, the ‘Mini Olympics’.

The entertainment line-up is just as impressive, with Milkshake! Mornings across 40 UK sites, plus exciting meet-and-greets with PAW Patrol characters like Chase and Marshall.

Nickelodeon Weekender

If your kids are obsessed with PAW Patrol, Ninja Turtles or SpongeBob SquarePants, we’ve got good news. Parkdean Resorts have put together the perfect weekend break for Nickelodeon fans.

You can bag a Nickelodeon Weekender family break from £163 for three nights, working out to £13.58 per person, per night for a family of four.

From morning to night, there is plenty of free Nickelodeon-themed entertainment for all ages.

Little ones can complete ‘Mighty Missions’ set by PAW Patrol’s Ryder and learn the Pup Pup Boogie, or head down to the Showbar to learn martial arts from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and earn their very own ninja mask.

The fun does not stop when the sun goes down, with a lineup of evening events including interactive family game shows, dance parties and live shows packed with prizes.

When you’re ready to chill out, families can settle down for a special ‘Movie with the Stars’ screening alongside the actual characters from the film.

Prices correct at the time of publication.

Fred Claire was an unorthodox choice for general manager, a former sportswriter and public relations man who didn’t play baseball beyond the junior varsity level in high school, and his 1987 promotion to head the Dodgers’ front office was met with skepticism around the game.

A year and a half later, after his shrewd moves helped turn the Dodgers into World Series champions in 1988, Claire was named Major League Baseball’s executive of the year by the Sporting News.

Claire, who spent 30 years in the Dodgers’ front office, died Monday on his 91st birthday. The news was shared on social media by former Dodger broadcaster Ross Porter.

An avid runner and golfer fit and trim enough to pass for a man a decade younger, the silver-haired Claire was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma in 2015 when what looked like a harmless spot on his lip turned out to be cancerous.

The growth was surgically removed, but the cancer returned in August 2016, and spread into the left side of his face. Claire underwent radiation and chemotherapy treatments to kill the malignant cells in his body, but the cancer returned again in 2017.

An immunotherapy clinical trial saved his life, according to a story in Pasadenanow.com, but then an infection forced him to undergo even more extensive facial reconstruction surgery at City of Hope in Duarte, replacing his jawbone with a bone from his leg.

Claire was so impressed with his treatment at City of Hope that he teamed with author Tim Madigan in 2021 to publish a book chronicling his career and capturing the hospital’s history as well the stories of patients and doctors. The book, “Extra Innings,” can be purchased at Amazon, with all net proceeds donated to City of Hope.

“The main thing that I liked and appreciated about the book was people buying it because of their interest in baseball,” Claire told the Desert Sun in 2021, “then to discover what a great place [City of Hope] is after reading it.”

Claire was also active in helping fund research — he and his wife, Sheryl, set up a scholarship fund with the USC Keck School of Medicine for research in head and neck cancer.

Claire was born Oct. 5, 1935, in Jamestown, Ohio. His parents moved the family — Claire had a brother and a sister — to Torrance when Claire was a teenager. After graduating from Torrance High, Claire earned a degree in journalism from San José State in 1957 before taking his first newspaper job.

“I graduated on a Sunday afternoon,” Claire told The Times in 1997, “and by Monday morning, I had a job at the Whittier Daily News.”

For 30 years, Dodger Stadium was Fred Claire’s home. “Honestly, in my heart and soul, it was a thrill and honor to have the opportunity to walk into Dodger Stadium every day and go to work,” Claire told the Times in 2017.

(Jack Harris / Los Angeles Times)

Claire spent 11 years as a sportswriter and was covering the Dodgers for the Long Beach Press-Telegram in the spring of 1969 when a position opened in the team’s public relations department.

Claire, who always longed to be involved in baseball, expressed interest in the job and was hired as a public relations assistant, remaining in the position until 1975, when he was promoted to vice president of public relations.

He was instrumental in creating the branding that came to be known as “Dodger Blue” and was directing the team’s marketing efforts when the Dodgers passed the 3-million mark in attendance for the first time. He also hired Ross Porter, a Dodgers broadcaster from 1977 to 2004.

In April 1987, then-Dodgers general manager Al Campanis was fired after making controversial and what many said were racist remarks about Black Americans on “Nightline,” during which he told the show’s host, Ted Koppel, that Black people may lack “some of the necessities” to be the field manager or GM of a major league baseball team.

Claire was then-Dodgers President Peter O’Malley’s surprise choice to replace Campanis, and his hiring raised the eyebrows of his new peers, who saw Claire as an outsider with no background as a player, coach, manager or scout.

“I knew some people might say, what does this guy know about baseball, he covered it from behind a typewriter?” O’Malley said in 2017. “But I knew Fred could do it. And he did it. He deserves a lot of credit for stepping in quickly, without advance notice, and doing a great job.”

The Dodgers suffered their second straight losing season in 1987, but Claire made several off-season moves — acquiring outfielders Kirk Gibson and Mike Davis, shortstop Alfredo Griffin and pitchers Jay Howell and Jesse Orosco — that fortified the club.

The Dodgers, led by National League Cy Young Award-winning pitcher Orel Hershiser and most valuable player Gibson, won the National League West in 1988 and upset the 100-win New York Mets in the NL championship series.

The gimpy Gibson hit his memorable pinch-hit, walk-off homer off Oakland closer Dennis Eckersley in Game 1 of the World Series to push the Dodgers toward their fifth championship since moving from Brooklyn to Los Angeles in 1958.

Kirk Gibson reacts to his game-winning two-run homer in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series.

(John Swart / Associated Press)

Claire dealt a smallish and seemingly fragile pitcher named Pedro Martínez to Montreal for second baseman Delino DeShields in what turned out to be one of the game’s most-lopsided trades. DeShields hit .241 in three years in Los Angeles, while Martinez went on to have a dominant 17-year career that earned him a 2015 Hall of Fame induction.

But during Claire’s 11-year tenure as GM, the Dodgers won a World Series, two division titles, a wild-card berth and a first-place finish in the strike-shortened 1994 season.

Claire also changed the culture in the front office, hiring an analytics expert, holding regular conference calls with coaches and scouts and canvassing the clubhouse to talk with players about everything from their families to their on-field performance.

“Fred gave us that first edge of being progressive and aggressive,” Hershiser told the Times in 2017. Added former Dodgers utility man Mickey Hatcher: “Fred Claire was amazing. For a guy who was suddenly put into the limelight, he asked all the right questions, listened to everyone and believed in all of us.”

Claire was fired along with then-Manager Bill Russell on June 21, 1998, five weeks after executives from Fox News Corp., which purchased the Dodgers earlier that year, engineered a blockbuster trade — deflating to many fans — of All-Star catcher Mike Piazza to the Florida Marlins without Claire’s involvement.

Claire, a man of “integrity and dignity,” as former Times baseball columnist Ross Newhan wrote, walked away with no harsh words or public regrets.

“Honestly, in my heart and soul, it was a thrill and honor to have the opportunity to walk into Dodger Stadium every day and go to work,” Claire told the Times in 2017. “This is truly enough for me.”

After his departure from the Dodgers, Claire worked as a columnist and analyst for MLB.com, a radio show host, an instructor at USC and a consultant to companies involved with sports. He co-authored an autobiography, released in 2004, titled “Fred Claire: My 30 Years in Dodger Blue.”

His response during an interview with Business Renaissance Quarterly in 2007 shed some light on Claire’s philosophy. The question: What do you want to be remembered for?

“I was once in the presence of the late Dodgers owner Walter O’Malley when he was asked this question by a reporter from United Press International,” Claire said. “Mr. O’Malley spun his ever-present cigar, paused for just a second and replied, ‘I want to be remembered for planting a tree.’

“Walter O’Malley’s answer, in my mind, overshadowed the great question. He wanted to be remembered for helping things grow, and in my mind, that meant his family, his friendships, the good causes he was involved in.

“I have seldom planted a tree, but I would proudly borrow Mr. O’Malley’s answer to this question.”

Claire is survived by his wife, Sheryl, and their three children, Jen, Jeff and Kim.

When Zoe Kazan learned she was going to adapt “East of Eden,” she knew it meant she’d be destroying a copy of John Steinbeck’s 1952 novel with scribbled notes in different colors, highlights and earmarked edges. So she ordered a used one from Powell’s Books — it has somebody else’s last name written on it, she points out.

“It’s a treasure to me,” she said during a recent video call from London.

Steinbeck’s Cain and Abel-inspired novel follows two families across decades as a way to explore good and evil, legacy, free will and what makes a person. Driving many of the biblical parallels are two sets of siblings — half-brothers, Charles and Adam Trask, and later, Adam’s fraternal twin sons Cal and Aron — each competing for their father’s attention and love. Disrupting their lives is an enigmatic woman named Cathy Ames, who Adam marries and who gives birth to Cal and Aron.

The book-to-screen adaptation has been Kazan’s passion project. And for a tale of familial legacy, she had her own to confront — in 1955, her grandfather Elia Kazan directed a film version that starred James Dean and covered the last third of the book, which focused on Cal and Aron. Zoe Kazan’s interest in the story took shape decades later when, as a teenager, she discovered the book.

She found herself drawn to Cathy, its famous antagonist.

“I felt repelled by her, attracted by her, curious about her. I felt empathy. I felt hared. I felt love. I felt all these things,” Kazan said. “I had never read anybody like her. I just remember, every few pages, wanting to stop and read aloud to someone the things that she was doing or [the things] that someone was saying about her.”

She also felt the pull of the story’s examination of intergenerational cycles and familial legacy.

“It feels a little bit like a chicken-and-egg situation. Which came first: Was I drawn to this book because of its intergenerational aspects or did this book teach me to think about intergenerational aspects?”

Now streaming on Netflix, the seven-part adaptation Kazan shepherded — alongside co-showrunner Jeb Stuart — covers more ground of the multigenerational saga than her grandfather’s film. This new version also centers Cathy.

Here’s what Kazan told us about her vision.

Hollywood is filled with book-to-screen adaptations that have ignited grumbling and spirited debates. Even before its release, Zoe Kazan’s interpretation of John Steinbeck’s sprawling 1952 masterwork, “East of Eden,” roused passionate opinions from loyalists of the text on social media.

Much of the discourse surrounds Kazan’s creative choice in how to portray the book’s infamous antagonist, Cathy Ames, in Netflix’s seven-episode limited series out Thursday.

Steinbeck’s multigenerational saga ruminates on family, the power of choice and the nature of good and evil — deeply exploring the biblical stories of Cain and Abel and the fall of Adam and Eve — through the intertwined destinies of two families, the Trasks and the Hamiltons. Cathy (later known as Kate) functions as a chilling, destructive force in the saga.

Kazan pared down much of the Hamilton family’s story for the show and centered Cathy (Florence Pugh), whose arrival alters the lives of the Trask brothers, Adam (Christopher Abbott) and Charles (Mike Faist). In doing so, Kazan dared to humanize the character who has been considered one of literature’s most definitive symbols of pure evil, described by Steinbeck to be a “psychic monster” born without a conscience or kindness.

“I’m trying to protect my mental health by not being too much online,” Kazan said in a video call from London on a recent weekday. “I do think it is not surprising to me that this character brings up a lot of strong feelings for people … I’m excited to see what people think once they actually see what we have made and aren’t just anticipating something.”

Mike Faist as Charles Trask, Christopher Abbott as Adam Trask and Florence Pugh as Cathy Ames in Netflix’s “East of Eden.”

(Netflix)

When Kazan, an actor who has expanded her creative footprint behind the camera, first pitched the series in 2019 and was asked about which actor she envisioned as Cathy, she replied: “I have one.” She had seen Pugh in “Midsommar,” “Lady Macbeth” and “Little Women,” marveling at how the actor’s ultra femininity lived alongside her masculine energy.

“The range on that girl … I was like, if anybody can do that, they can play Cathy,” Kazan says. “It allowed me to write Cathy as complicated and mysterious [as I wanted] and with so much shadow and light.”

When it came to Adam and Charles, Kazan knew Abbott and Faist could depict the psychological nuance beyond the binaries of the nature versus nurture debate: “I wanted an Adam where you felt what his true nature was and the nature that his father had pushed him into … and I knew we needed that in Charles as well.”

Adapting a classic is hardly a simple endeavor, particularly one that has been done before. That Kazan would choose “East of Eden,” which unpacks legacy and generational shadows is apt: Her grandfather, Elia Kazan, famously directed the 1955 film version starring James Dean. The actors of the Netflix series are eager for viewers to see her vision come to life.

“When you do an adaptation of a book, especially a seminal American novel, no matter what, you’re always going to be up against it because … whenever somebody reads a book, the budget in their heads is unlimited,” Abbott says. “I think this is such a great adaption in its own right.”

Pugh adds: “I’m excited for people to do the stuff that I’m doing now, which is [to say], ‘Oh my God, let’s read this and see how it fits against what I’ve got in my head.’”

Over a video call together, Pugh, Abbott and Faist reflected on their journey to adapting Steinbeck’s epic story, including their first experiences with it and filling in the shades of these characters who remain timeless allegories of the human condition. This conversation, which contains spoilers, has been edited for clarity and length.

Florence Pugh, left, Christopher Abbott and Mike Faist take on some of literature’s most indelible characters — Cathy Ames, Adam Trask and Charles Trask — made famous in John Steinbeck’s classic “East of Eden.” (Photographs by Sophia Spring / For The Times)

When did you first encounter the book?

Faist: My first encounter with the story was the James Dean, Elia Kazan film. That was a movie that I watched, especially when I first moved to New York and wanted to be an actor. It wasn’t until Zoe and Florence asked if I’d be interested in doing this, that I picked up the book.

Pugh: I want to say maybe my early 20s, I read the book. I only watched the movie recently to prepare myself for these kind of conversations. I’m rereading the book now while we’re heading into press, just so I can like fine-tune what I thought I knew … there’s so much love that’s being breathed into every single sentence of every chapter [in this adaptation], and that is solely down to Zoe’s fantastic brain and her ability to want to dig deeper.

Abbott: A lot of my favorite books I’ve picked up and put down numerous times before actually plowing through it — that was the case here until Zoe approached me about doing it. I was like, “Well, this is a perfect excuse to finally [finish].”

This adaptation lit up social media early on for centering Cathy. She is such a polarizing figure. Some see her solely as an evil monster. Some argue there is more nuance to what’s driving her actions. Florence, how do you see her?

Pugh: It’s tricky because I know I’m gonna get asked this again and again, and I guess I’m still trying to figure out how to word it without totally pissing people off. I love finding characters that people automatically think are villains and trying to find a way for you to love them — it’s my favorite thing to do.

I read these episodes, and I was listening to Zoe and how she was wanting this to come from Cathy’s perspective, how Cathy was her hero and how she’s just been championing Cathy ever since she first read the book — that was so f— exciting to know that we’re not gonna just point the finger and say that she’s evil. It is my job to do my skills as good as possible so that I can argue in defense of them. I believe that I can argue for her, which is terrifying but also really cool. I care for her deeply. I understand where she went and why. Does she do some terrible things? Absolutely. Is she a product of the situation that she grew up in? Totally. You can’t get raped as a child and and you be totally fine for the rest of your life.

Florence Pugh as Cathy Ames. She hopes the adaptation prompts curiosity: “I’m excited for people to do the stuff that I’m doing now, which is [to say], ‘Oh my God, let’s read this and see how it fits against what I’ve got in my head.’”

(Netflix)

That detail was not explicitly stated in the book. What were your conversations with Zoe about it?

Pugh: That’s why we ended up choosing the way that we explained it and the way that we showed it — that little girl is so tiny you can’t even imagine anything bad happening to her, and the fact that she’s holding “Alice in Wonderland,” [in her mind], there’s so many through lines through Cathy and Kate’s life that all come back to that moment. You don’t need to do much. Everybody has the sinking feeling of what might happen to a vulnerable child in that situation. In the book, I think it’s constantly playing with the themes of can we trust her? Is she already a monster as a child?

What Zoe has done is made her a real human, and has given her cause and has given her time to understand. That moment that is alluded [to in the book ] — if Cathy asked the boys to tie her down, and whatever it is that they were doing to her — it’s no longer alluded [in the series]. That [assault] happened, but maybe people didn’t believe her.

Mike, what were you interested in excavating with Charles, this Cain archetype who’s tormented by rejection and jealousy?

Faist: What is amazing about this story is — and it’s the entire through line of the entire novel — is this idea of timshel. What happens in a person’s life, and the burdens that they carry, then the choices they make, and every single moment as they continue to live it. Charles jumped out at me. There was just something about him that I was very drawn to — and along with that pull, there’s this feeling of dread, where you say, “Oh God, I can’t believe that I’m about to jump in and do this thing.” You end up surrendering yourself to it. It is scary and deeply exciting.

Abbott: I don’t have a brother. You forget too that they’re half brothers and what that dynamic is like, what kind of Freudian s— pops up. I think the through line for Mike and I, because there’s a lot of conflict there, that it always comes from a place from love. The letters, as they [Charles and Adam] get older, that are written or the letters that he starts to write and doesn’t send, when there is hate between them, it’s because they love each other so much. Otherwise, it would just be indifference. A lot of that happens in the things that are unsaid.

1

2

1. Mike Faist as Charles Trask. (Netflix) 2. Christopher Abbott as Adam Trask. He found the sibling relationship intriguing: “I don’t have a brother. You forget too that they’re half brothers and what that dynamic is like, what kind of Freudian s— pops up.” (Kirsty Griffin / Netflix)

When Zoe approached you, Chris, to play Adam, you questioned whether she actually meant for you to be Charles?

Abbott: I’m just used to being typecast, so I thought she made a mistake. Zoe’s mentioned this idea of masculine and feminine energy — what one presents and what one actually holds, and the old switcheroos of that. The very first email, I was like, “Oh, are you sure?” But I was excited to play with all the nuance of and the layers of what this is. I had seen the movie before, and it [covers] only the last 100 or so pages. It’s really gratifying to play a part where you get to see someone’s whole life and how this guy goes from being this wanderer, drifter to this to stoic, depressed, rigid older man.

What moment between these characters were you most eager or nervous to depict?

Faist: The scene that I reflect back on the most, that actively had the biggest impact on me, is the scene between Cathy and Charles, where she comes into his room and the two of them share this intimacy together. We had talked about what we were wanting to do, then on the day, none of it was really working. I remember Florence had this really specific thing she wanted to bring to the scene. And it was really powerful — there’s these very rare moments when you genuinely feel someone’s objective actively working against your own. [Pugh makes a quizzical face.] No, it’s good! It creates this friction and this tension that does exist and does live.

Abbott: That was your favorite, huh?

Faist: I’m sorry, Chris! That one was just such a visceral feeling of, I know what my character wants in this thing, and her character is very much wanting the exact opposite and the literal clash of that that moment and the feeling of that — I’ll never forget that.

Pugh: It’s such an important scene to get right because it literally is the ending moment of those two; it added so much pressure on the day of shooting. It’s actually really hard when you’re trying to do a sex scene that’s consensual, but it’s definitely not at the right time. The coolest thing about it is it wasn’t working and we had to push everyone out. Everyone was whispering and everyone was trying to figure out what they were comfortable with us doing and, eventually, Mike and I were just like: Right. Done.

Florence Pugh, with Christopher Abbott, left, and Mike Faist, says “East of Eden” endures because “every single one of these characters is struggling to survive realistically.”

(Sophia Spring / For The Times)

Chris, you have the daunting task of, in the closing moments of the series, delivering the word that’s the thrust of the whole story —timshel.

Abbott: I think that was the last scene I shot. I can’t say I was being lazy, but the character had a stroke so he was laying there. You just gotta listen [in a moment like that]. Hoon [Lee, who plays Lee] is reading from the Bible. You take in the room. I nailed it in one. [Pugh and Faist laugh.]

People have deep feelings about “East of Eden.” And it seems to have had a real resurgence recently, even outside of curiosity about this adaptation. Why do you think that is?

Abbott: That’s a big, existential [thing to think about]. There’s a ton of themes in the book that are relevant: displacement, family, love. The themes in the book aren’t specific to the time period. All great works are that.

Pugh: It’s also about generational trauma and change in healing. One of the things I recognized immediately when I started rereading the book months ago, the first few pages about the Salinas Valley describe very quickly that this place is about growth, change and moving on. What I’ve taken from our adaption of Cathy and her generational trauma and what she’s doing to her kids is that not everybody is going to get it right. The reason I think why people keep picking it back up is every single one of these characters is struggling to survive realistically, and they are all making decisions that affect and domino-effect other people around them. Us learning about how we could have done better will always be relevant. And especially with America, and what we’re watching in terms of its constant battle against racism and immigration. It’s relevant to life and to our lives.

Here’s the equation that arrived in my mind:

Love of books + love of walking = Library Trail.

Could I walk to all the libraries in L.A.?

I asked myself this question and then one second later I asked Google, because my phone was in my hand as it is 50% of the time, and 75% of the time when I’m not being social. I spend a lot of time alone, writing books that I hope will end up in libraries.

I knew there were many public libraries in L.A., and that walking to all of them would probably result in a trail that looked like a snarled nest. This turned out to be correct. The city of Los Angeles has 73 libraries. The county has 86. And Santa Monica has five.

So, I decided to simplify. I would walk about 15 miles from the Central Library in downtown L.A. to the Ocean Park Library in Santa Monica, and, since every trail needs a name, I would call it … the phrase “booking it” arrived in my mind. I crossed that out, and then I crossed out some other bad options, and then I decided to let it go and name the trail after I was done, which is often what I do when writing a novel, because you don’t really know what a thing is until it exists. With books, and with trails, and with life, the only thing we can ever be sure of is that our plans will always turn out to be wrong.

An illustrated map of the 15-mile trek from the Central Library in downtown L.A. to Ocean Park Library in Santa Monica.

Case in point: The day before the trail, I planned to draw some lettuce on my sun hat with fabric pens. I envisioned that on one side, the lettuce would be beautiful and perfect, and on the other side, it would be goopy and rotting. What ended up happening was that I drew two lovely romaine leaves, and I liked them so much that I stopped there.

As I said, I spend a lot of time by myself, and I imagined that walking this trail would be a solitary adventure. I’m currently in the process of writing a new novel, and since walking is so conducive to writing, I thought the trail would give me a nice big swath of time to ponder the fictional world I’ve created.

I was told that a photographer named Scott Strazzante would meet me at the Central Library at 7 a.m. I assumed he’d take some shots and maybe walk with me for a little while, and then we’d part ways. What actually happened was that Scott stayed with me the entire time. This caused me to see the two romaine lettuce leaves on my hat as a foreshadowing. I was one leaf, and Scott was the other.

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1. L.A. Central Library. 2. The Lodrick M. Cook Rotunda inside the library. (Scott Strazzante / For The Times)

But back to the Central Library. It’s a masterpiece. Maybe you already know that. In case you don’t, I recommend a visit. Scott and I ended up in the rotunda, surrounded by murals, and it felt like taking a quick trip to Italy. Although really, it was a trip through California’s history. That’s what the murals depict.

An important part of the library’s history is that people (or one person?) tried to burn it down. Twice. In 1986, there were two arson attacks, spaced a few months apart. Who would want to burn down a library? It’s still unclear, although the main suspect for the first attempt was an out-of-work actor named Harry Peak.

The route from the Central Library to the Ocean Park Library is so easy that you could do it without your phone. You walk down four blocks to Olympic Boulevard, then head west. At some point, switch over to Pico Boulevard and keep heading west. Eventually, you’ll veer off at Gateway Boulevard, which turns into Ocean Park Boulevard, and boom! You’re there!

If you do this trail, I suggest you bring sunscreen, a hat and an external battery to charge your phone. I would also bring water and snacks, although, of course, there are many places to get those things along the way.

As Scott and I walked down Olympic, I said hi to a few people we passed, and Scott did too. After one of these interactions, Scott said, “People must think we’re missionaries or something, saying hi like that.”

A woman holds a religious sign at Olympic Boulevard and Alvarado Street.

I didn’t respond. But as we kept walking, I wondered about the implication of Scott’s statement, which is that if you’re going to be nice to a stranger, then it must be because you want something from them.

Scott and I stopped for beverages at Rok Coffee & Tea at Olympic and Ardmore Avenue, which I highly recommend. They have a free photo booth! Without the booth! It’s a modern, open-air version. Scott and I took a selfie. The people behind the counter were exceptionally friendly. When we walked out, Scott made a comment about it. “They were so nice,” he said, kind of in awe.

The arc of this story, I would say, is that Scott’s heart melted more and more as we walked, and so did mine.

At the start of the trail, Scott kept stopping to take photos. Which, you know, was his job. But I was annoyed about it. I was thinking, Damn, I was planning to dream about my novel and maybe call my sister and now I have to wait for this dawdling photographer?

Internally, I had a quick chat with myself. I could either choose to be irritated, or I could choose to love Scott. By the time we took the selfie at Rok, I loved Scott. Then he told me about his life and I loved him more. Scott’s new to L.A. He moved down here from Marin County, but he’s originally from Chicago. He hates shopping. When I complimented his shirt ( which said “Lucky Brand” on it) he said, “I didn’t even see that.” I noticed he was especially interested in signs about lost animals, which I thought was sweet. “Somebody lost a cockatiel!” he said, jogging to catch up, because I hadn’t waited for him.

Scott ended up jogging a fair amount. “We’re making this light!” I shouted a few times, and he sprang into action. He was a good sport about it. Running uses different leg muscles than walking, he pointed out, and his walking muscles were tired.

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1. A Chevrolet van parked on Sherbourne Drive. 2. Writer Swan Huntley walks along Olympic Boulevard. 3. A jogger passes Love Psychic on Olympic Boulevard and Citrus Avenue. (Scott Strazzante / For The Times)

In other moments, Scott took the lead. He wanted to cross the street to take a picture of the Koreatown sign, so we did that. He stopped to ask people if he could photograph them, which meant that we had more conversations with strangers than I would have had alone. Scott made my solo journey into a social one, and by the time we cut down to Pico, I couldn’t believe there had ever been a moment when I didn’t want this awesome man to walk with me.

Here’s another equation:

Being alone + reading news headlines = I think the world is bad.

When I’m by myself for too long, scrolling through articles about the worst things that have happened recently, I inevitably start to think that strangers suck and that kindness is an outlier. When Scott said that us chirpily saying hi to strangers must have made them think we were missionaries, I thought that was sad. As the day went on, I realized I spend more of my life than I want in that sad place.

Near the intersection of Pico and Robertson, Scott and I met a guy whose job it is to change out the batteries on Coco delivery bots. He told us that Cocos are not autonomous. They’re operated by people overseas, who might never come to Los Angeles. After our conversation with this guy, I said to Scott, “He was so nice!” Scott said, “I know!”

So, you can see how our hearts were totally melted. Strangers, as it turns out, often don’t suck.

By the time we got to the Ocean Park Library, my legs were noodles and Scott’s T-shirt was soaked in sweat. There were five people inside. One was on a computer, one was sitting at a table, one was napping in a small chair and two were in larger chairs, charging their phones, with a bunch of bags laid out by their feet.

Inside the community-centered Ocean Park Branch of Santa Monica Public Library.

Thomas Alexander, one of the librarians, told me that people come to the library for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes it’s for books. Sometimes it’s for events, like the zine workshop they put on recently in the basement, which was very well-attended. And sometimes it’s to charge a phone or use a computer or just be quiet for a little while.

I asked Thomas why he became a librarian. He said, “I like working with the community.”

On some other day, this statement might not have made that much of an impact on me. But on that day, it did. Scott and I had spent the last six hours communing with each other and with all the people we met along the trail. I thought about Harry, the out-of-work actor who had possibly lighted the Central Library on fire in 1986. I don’t know anything about him, but my guess is that he was someone who had forgotten that he was part of a community. I wish that Harry could have met Thomas, who has a calm, sincere demeanor and big, brown inviting eyes that seem to say, Hi, I just want to hang out.

Or I’m projecting. By the end of this walk, that’s what I was thinking. I’d gone from being a one-woman show to: Hi, I just want to hang out.

Swan Huntley arrives at Ocean Park Branch of Santa Monica Public Library.

So, my plans were wrong, as they always are, and I’m glad. The original goal of inventing (discovering?) the Scott Romaine Library Trail was to inspire you to care about books. I ended up inspiring myself to care about what libraries are actually about: community.

“Crunch, crunch.”

If the above sounds familiar, then you might already be a Wholigan — someone who routinely listens to the long-running celebrity podcast “Who? Weekly.” Part of the fun of listening to the thrice-weekly show (one being for Patreon members), aside from its hosts contextualizing a dizzying array of tabloid headlines, is learning its lexicon. For example, “Crunch, Crunch” spoofs a bit of sponsored content the pop singer Bebe Rexha did for Lay’s Potato Chips in 2019. Other popular phrases unique to the Who-verse: “Good form, Bella Thorne.” “Scar-Jo Yummy Pop.”

Launched in 2016 by pop culture journalists Bobby Finger and Lindsey Weber, “Who? Weekly” eagerly mines the growing world of lower-tier celebrity, with the two hosts categorizing trending names under two main umbrellas: the fame-hungry “Whos” (influencers, reality stars, a pre-royal Meghan Markle) and the instantly recognizable, likely critically acclaimed “Thems” (Tom Cruise, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé). Rounding out the paradigm are the “Nahs,” or folks who aren’t well known enough to claim “Who” status.

“We came of age reading all the [gossip] bloggers, from Perez Hilton to Liz Smith,” Weber tells The Times of why she and Finger originally started “Who? Weekly,” which technically began as a newsletter before it morphed into a podcast.

Lindsey Weber and Bobby Finger have co-written the newly released book, “I Want to Be Famous: When Everybody and Nobody Is a Celebrity.”

(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)

Finger also cites influence from “Oh No They Didn’t,” a 2000s-era LiveJournal page that aggregated celebrity headlines and invited users to comment (kind of like a proto-Subreddit). “You read the story just as you read the comments, which were integral to the story,” Finger says. “All of the inside jokes, the additional commentary. That’s what ‘Who? Weekly’ has become, especially in our Patreon Discord. [Listeners] are always chiming in and creating their own language and extensions of the ‘Who? Weekly’ universe.”

That universe is about to expand again: In conjunction with the pod turning 10 this year, Weber and Finger are releasing a new book, “I Want to Be Famous: When Everybody and Nobody Is a Celebrity,” which looks at fame and celebrity through a historical lens while also exploring how the line between Whos and Thems got that much blurrier in the social media age. “I feel like we were always barreling towards a book,” Weber says. “Both of us are trained journalists. We were always kind of like, ‘When are we going to put our money where our mouth is?’”

To demonstrate how the binary is evolving into a spectrum, Weber and Finger revisit juicy pop cultural anecdotes (remember when Courtney Love threw her compact at Madonna at the VMAs? Or when Ariana Grande dated Pete Davidson? Or when Katy Perry flew into space on the Blue Origin?) while blanketing every chapter with an elucidation of why, no matter what decade we’re in, society just can never get enough gossip.

Meanwhile, unlike the podcast, “I Want to Be Famous” gives the hosts ample room to go deeper into the cultural framework of modern celebrity than they normally have time for. Each week, Weber and Finger dedicate one episode to unpacking a prepared list of Who-y headlines, and a follow-up episode, titled “Who’s There?,” is dedicated to listener calls. Which is to say, Weber and Finger usually spend more time explaining and trading jokes about what each micro-celeb is known for rather than how celebrity itself has evolved.

Lindsey Weber and Bobby Finger are celebrating the 10th year of their podcast “Who? Weekly.”

(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)

“The pod is on the surface funny, [but] if you are a real fan, you’re like, ‘Oh, there’s actually some interesting stuff beneath the funny,’” Finger says. “We wanted this book to be the opposite, where it’s actually outwardly interesting and smart, and then inwardly funny when it can be.”

The writers’ tone might lean more academic within “I Want To Be Famous,” but longtime fans of the pod will recognize dozens of niche names, stories and extremely online subjects that were at one point or another discussed on the show. The authors present their grand theory of Whos and Thems by opening with the story of how former Who Meghan Markle shot to Them-dom after marrying Prince Harry. Other chapters observe what happens when Thems date or marry Whos. There’s a history of how celebrities say sorry (where there were once press releases there are now Notes app apologies) and a conversation about how nepo babies fit into the framework. As the book moves across history and demonstrates how the internet has completely upended the binary, they also show what hasn’t changed about the way fans relate to their favorites. “What we want most in a celebrity is authenticity,” Weber theorizes.

For Weber and Finger, the chance to tie the disparate threads they discuss on “Who? Weekly” was a major incentive to work on their book. “I kept being like, ‘Is this the first time anyone’s ever written about this in a book?’” Weber says with a laugh. “Because some of it was so stupid — these references to fandoms and Club Chalamet and niche things that are newer … I’m like, ‘Oh my God, are we doing this thing where now people have to read about Club Chalamet in 100 years?’ Obviously that would be incredible.”

“There’s a temporality to our show that is not the case with this book, which is very exciting,” Finger adds. “Because our show kind of exists to go in one ear and out the other. And I say that because it goes in one of our ears and out the other too, as the creators.”

Woven into the conversations around Whos, Thems, Thems behaving like Whos (see: brand deals), and Whos aspiring to be Thems is the authors’ palpable anxiety about the decaying role of entertainment journalism in an age in which celebrities can simply promote themselves via social media — or host their own podcasts. The authors are also painfully aware that most audiences have less of an appetite for reading, period. A chapter titled “The 2010s Killed the Cover Star” looks back what is thought to be the greatest piece of celebrity journalism ever written (Gay Talese’s 1966 Esquire classic, “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold”) and contrasts it with today’s style of uncritical, PR-friendly celebrity Q&As that boast nothingburger headlines that don’t tell us much of anything.

Conversations about media and journalism itself run through the podcast too, and that’s by design. “Sometimes we go so niche that it’s like, ‘Are we just making a podcast for our friends that work in media?’ And sometimes the answer is yes,” Weber says. “We can only speak from our experience. … But the most shocking thing about ‘Who? Weekly’ is that [media discourse] is actually quite interesting for lots of people.”

Finger adds, “Our past in media and our abundance of friendships with people who are still in media is like a crucial part of our show. It’s an industry we respect so much, you know, and we’re obsessed with the way it evolves. If we didn’t have that background, I don’t think the show would exist the way it does at this current moment.”

Even with a massive archive of episodes and no plans to stop, Weber and Finger are thrilled to have cemented their legacy with a book that could (and really should) be taught in media and communications classes. “Bobby and I both obviously love celebrities,” Weber says. “But we love media more.”

Brodsky is an L.A. culture and music writer. Her biography of Stevie Nicks, “Lessons & Lace,” published by Penguin Random House, is out now.

John Green’s nine-year hiatus from fiction has ended, and his adult debut, “Hollywood, Ending,” comes right on time to explore the dark side of fame.

The novel centers on former child actor Juniper Castillo and Hollywood newbie Kai Laramie, who are cast in the artsy biopic “Andy Warhol Never Gets Old,” with hotshot movie star Matthew Malone in the title role. It’s Juniper’s chance to establish herself as an adult actor and Kai’s first foray into the spotlight, a position he quickly realizes doesn’t come without a personal cost.

“There’s no way I could have written this book without spending a lot of time on film sets,” Green told The Times in a recent call.

Over the last two decades, several of the author’s bestselling young-adult novels have been adapted for the screen. His debut, “Looking for Alaska” (2005), was adapted as a Hulu limited series in 2019, the same year Netflix released the feature film adaptation of his co-authored holiday anthology, “Let It Snow” (2008). On the big screen, “Paper Towns” (2008) made its film debut in 2015, while his bestseller “The Fault in Our Stars” (2012) became a box-office hit in 2014. Most recently, his 2017 novel, “Turtles All the Way Down,” received a feature film adaptation in 2024.

“I hope the book is a love letter to movies. But I also wanted to be honest about how difficult it is to make a work of art that, in order to be commercially successful, has to be loved by millions of people,” Green said. That’s where the Hollywood machine comes in. “It’s really hard to figure out how to get millions of people to pay to watch something, and that challenge leads to all kinds of compromises and sacrifices.”

While Green’s young-adult novels have often explored the teenage experience, he never felt confined by the YA genre. “I think teenagers have infinite intellectual capacity,” he said, adding that he doesn’t really think about which shelf will hold his novels inside a bookstore. In “Hollywood, Ending,” his main characters are navigating their early 20s, a period which Green finds especially interesting.

“The questions in this novel explore how it feels in those early years of adulthood when there are still so many possibilities, so many directions you might go,” he said.

The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

How did you land on Andy Warhol as a celebrity figure and metaphor to use in telling this story about Kai and Juniper?

I think Andy Warhol saw so much of our world coming. He saw that three-dimensional experience was going to be rendered in two dimensions. He’s most famous for taking cylindrical soup cans and making them flat, but he also saw celebrity culture coming.

There’s the famous quote about everybody being world-famous for 15 minutes. I think he understood that normal people were going to experience celebrity, and he also saw the way that the repetition of images, as I write about in the novel, would lead to a certain desensitization. So I think everything from screen-based experience to the ways that technology was going to reshape our lives, he was the patron saint of all of that.

One of the images that really struck me is when you talk about him dying wigless and being too uncomfortable with that to have friends come and visit him in the hospital.

I think Juniper says at one point that fame is a kind of armor. I don’t know how Warhol thought of his wigs, but I wanted it to be a sort of emblem of protection for him.

Your wife, Sarah, is an Andy Warhol scholar. Was that a major strength while you were writing this?

There’s a huge advantage to being able to fact-check something by shouting down the hall. I also wanted to include Warhol partly as a love note to Sarah … She co-wrote a book about Andy Warhol’s relationship with money and business called “Andy Warhol Enterprises.” After 25 years, our way of looking at art and the art that we’ve shared together is so deeply intertwined that anything I write is unimaginable without her. She’s my first reader and most important reader … It’s only thanks to her that Warhol’s in the book.

You really humanize the young actors in “Hollywood, Ending,” which, unfortunately, is a unique thing. This is an intimate, vulnerable portrayal of behind-the-scenes Hollywood — why was that important for you to examine?

I wanted to write about the machine that takes private experience and commodifies it, and I think that machine is especially challenging to navigate when you’re young, when you’re in early adulthood, because you don’t yet have those relationships that are going to carry you through. You don’t have the love that you need to survive all that you’ve got to survive. When my work became very successful, I was in my 30s. I was married. I had two kids. I lived in Indianapolis. I had best friends. I was pretty grounded, and it was still very disorienting.

How so?

It’s a completely different life to have everybody have opinions about your work than it is to take your kids to school every day. So I was thinking partly about that, but I was also thinking about the influencers I’ve known, and the actors I’ve known who’ve had to go through that [while] much younger, and what that’s been like for them as well.

You do a really good job of examining the dark side of the attention economy. Why was this especially of interest?

Well, it used to be that the attention economy was mostly a problem for actors and other celebrities, but now the attention economy is something we all participate in. We’re all taking our private experiences and packaging them up for public consumption on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter and Reddit, and I think we gain something from that, or we wouldn’t do it. But we also lose a lot.

I wanted to try to be honest about what we gain, and also be honest about what we lose. My last novel, nine long years ago, was about a young woman with OCD. I also have OCD, and I had to make a decision when I was promoting that book, about whether I would talk about having OCD, and I decided that I would, and that became a huge part of talking about the novel — talking about my own experiences with mental illness, and it was a gift in many ways because so many people have said to me that it helped them to see that it’s possible to have a good and fulfilling life while living with a serious mental illness, and it was helpful for me because it helped me feel less alone in it.

But it was also complicated because there are real costs when you share something. It’s not yours anymore in ways that are a relief, but also in ways that are difficult.

You’re offering it up for scrutiny in a way that can be really scary.

It is really scary to have your private life scrutinized in that way, right? And there’s an element of judgment that comes with creative expression that’s a natural and healthy part of conversations about what art is and what art should be, but being in the middle of those conversations isn’t always fun.

I think you capture that in Kai’s experience. He is really pressured to come out and talk about his traumatic experience, and he doesn’t want to. The “machine” wants to sell tickets and exploit his trauma in the process.

It’s one thing to try to make good art. It’s another thing to try to make good art that lots of people interact with, and a portion of that second issue is inevitably finding ways to interest an audience, and nothing interests an audience quite like a personal story, especially a personal story of overcoming difficulty.

Was the movie star Matthew Malone based on anyone specifically?

I have aphantasia, this brain condition that causes me not to be able to imagine anything visually. I have no visual imagination, and so I can’t see actors when I’m writing. I can’t see characters when I’m writing. I can’t see anything. Everything’s made out of language, and so there’s no way I could have cast the movie in my mind or had somebody in mind for the character. It’s been great to hear all the folks who people were thinking of. I’m curious who you were thinking of.

I thought of Tom Cruise a couple of times. Have other people said that?

A couple people have said that as well. Yeah.

That’s so interesting about your work with language solely. Do you think that’s been a strength with you as a writer? Because you create such vibrant visuals for your readers.

It’s the only way I’ve ever been. I never knew that other people had this vibrant visual imagination until I was in my 40s, and my wife said I think maybe the reason you don’t have a sense of direction and you have to open up all the cabinets when you put away the dishes and you don’t know whether there’s a rug in the living room is because you don’t have a visual imagination, and I was like, of course I don’t. Nobody does, and she was like, you can’t picture an apple in your head? And I was like, no, nobody can picture an apple in their head. They say they can, but they mean it metaphorically … And Sarah explained to me that, in fact, the vast majority of people can see an apple, which still seems fictional to me, like science fiction stuff.

Some people don’t have that inner voice in their head (anendophasia).

I do have an inner voice. I think. But this all gets to something really interesting about being a person, though, which is that you’re stuck the whole time you’re here inside of one consciousness and looking at the world through one set of eyes. And I have no idea what it’s like to be you. The great thing about writing fiction for me is that act of imagination, that attempt to empathize, that attempt to escape the self and imagine what it would be like to be somebody else with some clarity, but of course, there’s always a limit to my ability to do that, and that problem has fascinated me my whole career.

Your books have meant so much to so many people, and in recent years, I’ve reported quite a bit on your book, “Looking for Alaska,” being one of the most commonly banned books. How do you feel about that?

I’m really concerned about attempts to limit intellectual freedom in the U.S., especially when it comes to libraries and schools. We have professionals we’ve trained to make collection decisions and to make curricular decisions in schools, and those professionals are teachers and librarians, and I’m very disturbed when other people come into that conversation and try to usurp the work that teachers and librarians are doing. I think a lot of times authors get most of the credit for the fight against book bans, and the truth is, all the credit should go to the teachers and librarians who are often putting their jobs on the line, making really difficult decisions to try to do the best by the kids that they’re representing and working with.

John Green will be in conversation with Julia Whelan to discuss “Hollywood, Ending” at 7 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 13, at a ticketed ALOUD event hosted at Saban Theatre. 8440 Wilshire Blvd., Beverly Hills.

The top seeds defend their Asian Games squash titles, becoming the first players to qualify for the Los Angeles Games.

Malaysia’s Eain Yow Ng and Sivasangari Subramaniam have made history by becoming the first squash players to qualify for the Summer Olympics after winning gold medals at the Asian Games in Aichi-Nagoya, Japan.

The defending champions won the men’s and women’s finals on Sunday and earned a ticket to the 2028 Los Angeles Games, where squash will make its Olympic debut.

Squash is among a handful of sports at Aichi-Nagoya where a gold medal serves as automatic qualification for the next Olympics.

Both Eain and Sivasangari successfully defended their titles without dropping a single game in their campaigns. Their victories gave Malaysia its fifth and sixth gold medals.

World number 18 Eain thrashed India’s Abhay Singh 11-9, 11-5, 11-5 in 33 minutes at the Nagoya Kinjo Futo Arena and became the first Malaysian to qualify for the Olympics.

World number five Sivasangari joined her compatriot soon after when she made quick work of the women’s final against India’s Anahat Singh.

She demolished Singh, ranked 17th in the world, 11-4, 11-4, 11-7 in just 23 minutes to clinch gold.

Earlier, Singh, the world junior champion, produced a stellar comeback in the semifinals from two sets down to overpower Japan’s Satomi Watanabe (9-11, 11-13, 12-10, 11-6, 11-3) on Saturday.

“I think it is the best win of my career,” Singh, 18, said after the match. “She’s number six in the world, and that’s the highest win I’ve ever had in my squash career.”

She made history even before Sunday’s match began when her semifinal victory made her the first Indian woman to reach the singles final at the Asian Games.

Earlier in the day, Pakistan picked up two more bronze medals at the games as third seed Noor Zaman toppled compatriot Ashab Irfan 3-0 in the bronze medal match. Watanabe took a 3-1 win over Hong Kong’s Sin Yuk Chan.

Kyle MacLachlan is living up to his reputation as the Internet’s Dad.

It’s an especially warm day in August, and the bespectacled actor, best known for his many projects with the late auteur David Lynch, is approaching with a coffee (black, naturally) in one hand and a massive cookie in the other. The snack, it turns out, is meant for us to share.

“Whatever it is, it’s very healthy,” he says when I ask what sort of confection he chose. “It’s cranberry, oatmeal and gluten-free. Who knows if there’s any sugar in there?”

At 67, MacLachlan isn’t necessarily a health nut. But he is highly amenable and willing to roll with my vegan cafe selection, which is conveniently located near our photo shoot location. “I come from Eastern Washington state — it’s a desert,” he says assuringly when I offer to move us to an indoor seat with air conditioning. Later, as we prepare to leave for the shoot, he clocks my car, a rare station wagon, and dubs it “spec-TAC-u-lar.”

That’s MacLachlan for you — all it takes is one word (he also drops an “Aces!” during our meeting) or enthusiastic gesture (very likely a swooping thumbs up) to channel the type of eccentric and upbeat characters he’s spent the last 40 years playing. Now, with the release of his thoughtful new memoir, “Fictional Selves,” MacLachlan gives us a much closer look at the man behind the chin-jutting grin, and, in doing so, introduces us to his doppelganger, “Other Kyle,” an image-conscious shadow figure constantly trailing behind, questioning his choices.

“There’s definitely another entity, an observer, the ego, the harder self,” MacLachlan says of how he would describe Other Kyle, whom ghostwriter Jon Sternfeld first identified after noticing the way MacLachlan tended to fall into conversation with himself while recounting his life. “[He’s] the kind of person that I’m not comfortable leading within the world. But he’s definitely in there commenting on the things that I do.”

Other Kyle first began to taunt MacLachlan after he saw himself on a gargantuan billboard for “Dune” in Times Square. (In his early 20s, MacLachlan was famously plucked from obscurity to lead David Lynch’s 1984 adaptation of Frank Herbert’s sci-fi epic.)

Well before his alter ego materialized, and well before Hollywood found him, MacLachlan was prone to anxiety and fears of never fitting in. Born in Yakima, Wash., MacLachlan grew up the oldest of three boys; his parents were solidly middle-class, with his father working as a lawyer, and then stockbroker. His mother was a homemaker known in the community for her civic involvement, particularly in local arts programs. In fact, it was MacLachlan’s mother who first encouraged him to try a “Teen Theater” program, drawing him in with the promise that there might also be girls in attendance.

But it took a minute for MacLachlan to genuinely embrace his calling. As a young adult, his father pushed him to study business, while his mother urged him to try PR or communications. His studies at the University of Washington weren’t going well, so he dropped out and worked at a manufacturing plant back in Yakima. It wasn’t until a girlfriend recommended a summer theater program in North Carolina that MacLachlan leaned back into his first real passion, eventually returned to school with a newfound focus, and was accepted into the University of Washington’s professional acting program.

Kyle MacLachlan at the glass and mirror shop LA Mirror Man on La Cienega Boulevard.

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

Fast-forward 40 years, it’s impossible to imagine that MacLachlan would have anything else for Other Kyle to latch onto. For one, his acting resume is the stuff of thespian fantasy. Sure, “Dune” infamously flopped hard upon arrival, and all planned sequels were immediately canceled. But it wasn’t long before MacLachlan had teamed back up with his mentor, with whom he had developed an almost telepathic bond on “Dune,” to lead Lynch’s much more kindly received 1986 neo-noir arthouse entry, “Blue Velvet.” A few years later, the overwhelming success of the TV mystery series “Twin Peaks” propelled the actor to the upper stratosphere of celebrity.

“When we were working together creating Jeffrey in ‘Blue Velvet’ or [Coop in] ‘Twin Peaks,’ we would sit and talk or not talk, we melded together in some weird way, we were like one person,” MacLachlan says of his bond with Lynch, who died in early 2025 of cardiac arrest due to chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. “It was this very symbiotic kind of thing in front of the camera,” MacLachlan continues. “It was like this weird circular energy. … He’s the only director I share that with.”

And yet, breaking out of what MacLachlan refers to as “The Black Suit,” worn by his unceasingly chipper “Twin Peaks” character, Special Agent Dale Cooper, proved challenging. By the time “Twin Peaks” left the air in 1991, MacLachlan had grown ambivalent about the job that changed his life, partially because he felt Lynch didn’t fight hard enough to keep artistic control of the show’s second season, which saw the network upping its creative involvement and Lynch distancing himself until the final few episodes.

MacLachlan longed to diversify his output — to show that he was capable of being a mainstream Hollywood leading man, one who could interface with a variety of directors. In the book, he writes about jobs he comes so close to booking — roles in Robert Redford’s “A River Runs Through It” and Francis Ford Coppola’s “Dracula” — but losing out at the last minute.

Kyle MacLachlan explores his alter ego “Other Kyle” in his new memoir.

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

He took these rejections hard at the time. Many decades later, however, he can see how he was the one holding himself back. “I felt like people were only seeing the black suit,” MacLachlan says. “Now, the truth is, they would probably have been more than happy to see me as somebody else, but I was not able to deliver. … I think there was a lot of insecurity,” he continues. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s not the suit. Maybe it’s me.’”

As the 1990s played out, MacLachlan fought an on-again, off-again existential crisis regarding the type of actor he was really meant to be. His friend and former “Doors” co-star Val Kilmer urged him to accept a lead role in a BBC adaptation of Kafka’s “The Trial,” which didn’t move the cultural needle in the States, but did put him in the same room as enormously pedigreed actors like Anthony Hopkins and Alfred Molina. He snagged a role in a Paul Verhoeven film about topless dancers — a career risk he hoped would pay off but ultimately felt like “walking into a buzz saw,” as he writes in the book.

Despite the cult reappraisal of “Showgirls,” and the lasting popularity of “Sex and the City,” Other Kyle had a few things to say about both of these roles, but the Kyle sitting across from me has a much more measured approach, particularly to “Showgirls.”

“I think it’s fun that it’s still around,” MacLachlan says. “I’ll still argue with anyone that [says] it’s a good movie. It’s not a good movie, but it’s definitely an appreciated movie, and that is kind of where I leave it.”

In the early 2000s, his wife, Full Picture founder and chief executive Desiree Gruber, pushed him to accept a role in HBO’s “Sex and the City,” playing an Upper East Side doctor with erectile issues.

Portraying Trey MacDougal was a mixed bag for MacLachlan. On one hand, he was thrilled to be part of such a cultural juggernaut, and he delighted in the emphasis the show placed on female friendship and sexual agency.

“I want to keep being challenged,” says Kyle MacLachlan, looking ahead to the next chapter of his 40-year career.

(Christopher Patey / For The Times)

At the same time, he had mixed feelings about playing an old-money mama’s boy with a Freudian Madonna-whore complex. Not to mention the sheer ridiculousness of the things the writers would have him do: One scene had him bent over a bathroom sink, masturbating to a pornographic magazine. A passage of “Fictional Selves” also recalls the cringe-inducing moment when Trey gives his wife, Charlotte (Kristin Davis), a cardboard cutout of a baby in an effort to make light of their struggle to conceive.

In the book, MacLachlan recalls being utterly dumbfounded at having been asked to do something so oblivious at best and cruel at worst. Eventually, however, he writes that he realized the writers just needed a way to foist him off the show. (His and Davis’ characters get divorced soon after the cardboard baby incident.)

“Every time I got a script, I’d be like, ‘Oh boy, OK, what’s going to happen here?’” MacLachlan says. “And then it would be, like, whatever they’ve come up with, ‘how can I shape it? What is it that [Trey’s] wrestling with? What are the issues here? Then, you know, realizing that in some cases it was just going to be a sight gag. Like, the Juggs magazine is going to be a sight gag. And as I said in the book, in my mind, I would sort of float away. I would be like, ‘That’s not really me. I don’t know who that is down there doing that.’”

As MacLachlan moved into middle age, he gradually grew more comfortable with the clean-cut oddball characters he’d so often be asked to play: a refined but possibly murderous dentist on “Desperate Housewives,” an idiosyncratic boat obsessive on “How I Met Your Mother,” an over-the-top civic leader on “Portlandia,” and, once again, Special Agent Dale Cooper (plus his doppelgängers) on “Twin Peaks: The Return.”

The 2017 “Twin Peaks” reboot would be the last big project MacLachlan would work on with Lynch, but MacLachlan would frequently visit the director in their shared Hollywood Hills neighborhood. “It’s many things,” MacLachlan says when I ask what he misses most about his friend and mentor. “The voice on the phone — ‘HEY, KALE! Come on up for coffee!’” he continues in a pitch-perfect Lynch imitation. (“Kale” became Lynch’s nickname for MacLachlan, referencing “Dune” producer Dino De Laurentiis’ Italian pronunciation.)

“Towards the end, I would go to visit him, and I would sometimes take my phone and record things. I still have these stories loaded in my iPhone — about ‘Dune,’ or a story about a moment in ‘Blue Velvet,’ or a story about when he met John Huston, or when he got a kiss from Elizabeth Taylor. … I have these little gems, and I savor those.”

Lately, Other Kyle has been replaced by Online Kyle, a goofy, lighthearted version of MacLachlan who primarily lives on TikTok and Instagram — thus the wholesome, Gen Z title of “Internet’s Dad.” And when he’s not playing a father to Ella Purnell on Prime Video’s hit “Fallout,” or interviewing a younger generation of entertainers on his podcast, “What Are We Even Doing,” MacLachlan is also someone’s real dad. One of the most endearing moments in our afternoon happens when his teenage son, Callum, calls looking for something around the house. “Oh, it’s in the fridge in the gym. In a foil. And there’s chicken in the fridge. Love you too,” MacLachlan tells his son.

There’s certainly no doubt that this Kyle doesn’t get in his head — or in his own way — the way earlier versions did. He’s still eager to test his limits as an actor, but he’s comfortable with the thought that there is no plan. “I want to keep working with interesting people,” he says with his trademark buoyancy. “I want to keep doing fun things. I want to keep being challenged. … I don’t really know where I’m going, but something will excite me, and I’d be like, ‘OK, what the hell?’ And I jump in.”

Brodsky is an L.A. culture and music writer. Her biography of Stevie Nicks “Lessons & Lace” is out now.

Stalwart bookstores Vroman’s in Pasadena and Book Soup in West Hollywood announced new ownership on Thursday, after a two-year search for a buyer.

Longtime owner Joel Sheldon, whose family has helmed Vroman’s for more than a century, announced his retirement in 2024. At the time, Sheldon said he was looking for “someone who shares our core values and who is committed to preserving Vroman’s as a community treasure.”

Sheldon said he found that in the new owner, Robert Hoffman, who has worked on tech regulation and other public policy in Washington, D.C., for several decades, but who grew up in Southern California with his family living in the area for generations.

“After talking with Robert and his family, I knew we had found the right stewards. They understand what makes this store special, and they’re committed to preserving that legacy while moving Vroman’s forward for our customers and the Pasadena community,” Sheldon said in a statement posted Thursday to the bookstore’s website.

Hoffman was born in Pasadena and has been visiting Vroman’s since his mother brought him in when he was 5 years old, according to the Thursday announcement.

His mother, in turn, had been introduced to the store by her grandmother, Georgia Bullock, a decades-long Pasadena resident and the first woman to serve as a municipal and superior court judge in California.

Hoffman was born in Pasadena and attended UCLA. He currently heads government relations and regulatory affairs at semiconductor company Advanced Micro Devices, according to his LinkedIn page.

Book Soup, a Sunset Boulevard landmark, was founded in 1975 by Glenn Goldman, a UCLA graduate student who raised investments with his friends to establish the store. Goldman died in 2009 at age 58, and Sheldon acquired the store from Goldman’s estate that year.

A post to Book Soup’s Instagram page said Hoffman and his family are “genuinely invested in this community.”

“Same shelves, same staff, same WeHo icon. Same gratitude for you,” the bookstore said in the social media post.

Vroman’s was founded in 1894 by Adam Clark Vroman, an ex-railroad worker from Illinois who moved to California hoping the sunny weather would improve his wife’s health. His wife eventually died of tuberculosis, and a brokenhearted Vroman, a bibliophile, sold off a chunk of his vast book collection to collect capital to open the store. The Sheldon family stewarded the store after Vroman’s death in 1916.

Vroman’s catered to various clientele and communities, from traveling dignitaries to academics and leisure readers on vacation. When the federal government incarcerated Japanese Americans from the San Gabriel Valley and elsewhere in the 1940s, an activist lugged books from Vroman’s to the Manzanar camp in the Owens Valley. Science fiction author Octavia Butler, who grew up in the area, frequented the bookstore.

Vroman’s second location in Hastings Ranch was forced to close in 2024 after the company was unable to reach a new lease agreement with the property owner. The store was otherwise sustainable, but was forced to close “due to increasing occupancy expenses,” the company wrote in a social media post at the time.

Vroman’s flagship location on Colorado Boulevard remains open. However, the property itself changed hands, with Sheldon selling it to GD Realty Group for $15.5 million amid uncertainty about its future.

The bookstore has a long-term lease with the real estate group, whose chief executive, Arash Danialifar, said in a statement last year to news outlet Pasadena Now that the bookstore was a “staple of the community” and that he hoped it would remain there “for the foreseeable future.”

There’s an alternate universe where Taylor Tomlinson is a young adult fantasy author holed up in a cabin miles from civilization.

“ I don’t know if you have some sort of backup career or backup life that you go to in your head when you’re overwhelmed or fed up with your career or whatever process you’re in,” she asks in the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel Denver ahead of a two-show night. “That was in the back of my head, [I was] like, ‘Well, I could just move to the woods and write books.’”

In this world, she’s a 32-year-old comedian with four Netflix stand-up specials and a two-season stint as the host of late-night game show “After Midnight.”

Her manager told her that people would probably be more interested in her memoir before a series centering on magic and dragons, so she started writing her own story two years ago.

A self-diagnosed workaholic, Tomlinson spent 10 years constantly moving. From a combination of mold exposure and severe burnout from filming “After Midnight” on weekdays and performing in different cities on weekends, she fell ill for months and was forced to take a break.

In that time, she wrote “Actually, Nevermind.” Coming out Tuesday, the autobiographical essay collection delves into the aspects of life that she changed her mind about since her mother died when she was 8 years old.

“Actually, Nevermind” opens with an eclectic mix of three quotes from “Anne of Green Gables” by Lucy Maud Montgomery, celebrated writer Joan Didion, and the 2001 Anne Hathaway-led comedy film “The Princess Diaries.” Tomlinson wanted a combination of funny and serious excerpts capturing grief, but also a quote about evolving as a person.

In the classic coming of age novel “Anne of Green Gables,” a young Anne Shirley states, “I’m not a bit changed — not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real me — back here — is just the same.”

That’s the essence of Tomlinson’s realizations in her book — she’s growing into herself but that girl who started performing stand-up shows on the church circuit at 16 is still in there.

Tomlinson has a bit from her first Netflix special “Quarter-Life Crisis” about your 20s being a period to “fish trash out of the lake before it freezes over.” She asks how I’m enjoying my 20s, to which I bluntly reply, “It’s a nightmare.”

“ My 20s were a nightmare, too, and I was waiting to be 30, and I was like, ‘When I turn 30, I’m going to be solidified and great.’ And then I turned 30, and it was like the last two years I have probably changed just as much, if not more, than I did in my 20s,” she says. “It’s been much rockier than I anticipated.”

In speaking with her friends, she realized they also felt a disconnect between the lives they envisioned for themselves and their realities. Tomlinson channeled that uncertainty into a jumping-off point for her book.

She reflected on when she began questioning the trajectory of her life and traced it back to her mother’s death.

“ I didn’t know if I was even going to write about my mom at all when I first got the book [deal] because I was like, ‘Well, I talked about it in ‘Look At You,’ and I’ve talked about it in interviews,’ but that’s the thing about losing a parent or any big traumatic grief event is you’re always getting hit by waves of it, and then you’re always untangling it,” she says.

In creating “Actually, Nevermind,” Tomlinson pored through her mother’s diary, deciding to include a few excerpts in the finished book. For most of Tomlinson’s life, she regarded her mother as a flawless, devout Christian whom she desperately yearned to impress.

Drawing on her mother’s diary, estrangement from her father and complex sibling bonds, Tomlinson confronts impossible standards, relinquishes parentified guilt and reframes what family means after loss.

(Sela Shiloni)

Her mother married young, so she tried to hit that milestone, too.

“I didn’t manage it and self-sabotaged a lot,” she says. “Now, I’m grateful that I didn’t get married young, but at the time it was all I wanted because I wanted to fit in and I wanted to be someone she would’ve liked, someone she had things in common with.”

Through reading her mother’s diary entries, Tomlinson began to heal from the impossible standards she set for herself to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

“ She was sort of this perfect, infallible character in my brain for so much of my childhood, so it was helpful to read about her being like, ‘I’m nervous about getting married. We got pregnant on accident,’” Tomlinson says. “There’s stuff I didn’t include about arguments she had with my dad in college. It was just very human, and it was very encouraging to go, ‘Oh, it wasn’t like this perfect frictionless decision for her.’ It’s not like she just nailed it and did everything perfectly.”

One of Tomlinson’s largest shifts in perspective was no longer feeling parental responsibility toward her three younger siblings.

“ I went from their sister to a weird half parent figure when I was still a kid,” she says. “And I made all these missteps because I was also a kid. And then young adulthood was confusing because I had been waiting for everyone to get old enough to be friends with me.”

Now, Tomlinson’s siblings all take care of each other in their own ways. She refers to them as her “soul mates” and feels guilty wishing for a romantic partner when she already has three lifelong best friends.

While Tomlinson remains close with some of her mother’s relatives, she has been estranged from her father for five years. She writes about the sadness of not speaking to someone you feel so alike, but she doesn’t go into extreme detail about cutting ties.

“ There’s some things you just want to keep for yourself, you know?” she says. “You don’t want every painful private detail about who you are and what’s happened to you available to Google because it just makes you feel like you’re a raw nerve walking around, and you can’t get it back once you’ve shared it.”

“And you want something to say on a fifth date,” she jokes.

After processing the heartache of losing another parent in a different way, Tomlinson allowed herself to miss the good memories with her father and assuage any longing for revenge.

In her essay “I’m Gay Now,” Tomlinson explores her bisexuality and the transition from chasing male validation to feeling comfortable in herself. She came out at around 28 years old. Part of what took her until then was feeling the need to prove that she deserved to identify as queer.

In essays on sexuality, faith and ambition, she trades the pursuit of perfection for hard-won self-acceptance, exposing a more vulnerable offstage self still learning to do her best.

(Sela Shiloni)

“ I think that’s just a theme throughout my entire life,” she says. “I felt like I needed to earn the label of comedian. I felt like I needed to earn the label of queer. I needed to earn love.”

Her brother helped her understand that she didn’t have to achieve the title — she’s always been gay.

With all of her adulthood realizations, Tomlinson also reflects on what she wishes she could tell her younger self.  Talking to a 16-year-old Taylor, she writes, “The most valuable thing about us cannot be all the things we haven’t done.”

“ So much of my childhood was like, ‘Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, don’t have sex. Don’t step out of line,’” she says. “I wanted to experience things more than I wanted to be this pure version of myself that was performing for the Lord.”

“Actually, Nevermind” is a reflection of Tomlinson when she puts down the microphone, and she is nervous for readers to see that side of her.

“ I feel pretty good about me on stage. Me in the room, I feel really insecure about,” she says. “I’ve gotten to a place where I feel pretty confident about taking up like 45 minutes to an hour and a half of your time. Eight hours, I think, is what the audiobook is. I’m like, ‘Eight hours is a lot more than that.’ So it’s been a real test of confidence.”

After years of chasing perfection, Tomlinson says she finds comfort in knowing that she may never be the world’s greatest anything.

“ In my 20s, I think I was always trying to be the best,” she says. “And now I’m like, ‘I’m going to do my best.’”