books

When Fernando Mendoza won the Heisman Trophy this weekend with another Latino finalist looking on from the crowd, the Cuban-American quarterback did more than just become the first Indiana Hoosier to win college football’s top prize, and only the third Latino to do so. He also subtly offered a radical statement: Latinos don’t just belong in this country, they’re essential.

At a time when questions swirl around this country‘s largest minority group that cast us in a demeaning, tokenized light — how could so many of us vote for Trump in 2024? Why don’t we assimilate faster? Why does Supreme Court justice Brett Kavanaugh think it’s OK for immigration agents to racially profile us? — the fact that two of the best college football players in the country this year were Latino quarterbacks didn’t draw the headlines they would’ve a generation ago. That’s because we now live in an era where Latinos are part of the fabric of sports in the United States like never before.

That’s the untold thesis of four great books I read this year. Each is anchored in Latino pride but treat their subjects not just as sport curios and pioneers but great athletes who were and are fundamental not just to their professions and community but society at large.

Shea Serrano writing about anything is like a really great big burrito — you know it’s going to be great and it exceeds your expectations when you finally bite into it, you swear you’re not going to gorge the thing all at once but don’t regret anything when you inevitably do. He could write about concrete and this would be true, but his latest New York Times bestseller (four in total, which probably makes him the only Mexican American author with that distinction) thankfully is instead about his favorite sport.

“Expensive Basketball” finds Serrano at his best, a mix of humblebrag, rambles and hilarity (of Rasheed Wallace, the lifelong San Antonio Spurs fan wrote the all-star forward “would collect technical fouls with the same enthusiasm and determination little kids collect Pokémon cards with.”) The proud Tejano’s mix of styles — straight essays, listicles, repeated phrases or words trotted out like incantations, copious footnotes — ensures he always keeps the reader guessing.

But his genius is in noting things no one else possibly can. Who else would’ve crowned journeyman power forward Gordon Hayward the fall guy in Kobe Bryant’s final game, the one where he scored 60 points and led the Lakers to a thrilling fourth-quarter comeback? Tied a Carlos Williams poem that a friend mistakenly texted to him to WNBA Hall of Famer Sue Bird? Reminded us that the hapless Charlotte Hornets — who haven’t made it into the playoffs in nearly a decade — were once considered so cool that two of their stars were featured in the original “Space Jam?” “Essential Basketball” is so good that you’ll swear you’ll only read a couple of Serrano’s essays and not regret the afternoon that will pass as quickly as a Nikola Jokic assist.

I recommended “Mexican American Baseball in the South Bay” in my regular columna three years ago, so why am I plugging its second edition? For one, the audacity of its existence — how on earth can anyone justify turning a 450-page book on an unheralded section of Southern California into an 800-page one? But in an age when telling your story because no one else will or will do a terrible job at it is more important than ever, the contributors to this tome prove how true that is.

“Mexican American Baseball in the South Bay” is part of a long-running series about the history of Mexican American baseball in Southern California Latino communities. What’s so brilliant about this one is that it boldly asserts the history and stories of a community that too often get overlooked in Southern California Latino literature in favor of the Eastsides and Santa Anas of the region.

As series editor Richard A. Santillan noted, the reaction to the original South Bay book was so overwhelmingly positive that he and others in the Latino History Baseball Project decided to expand it. Well-written essays introduce each chapter; long captions for family and team photos function as yearbook entries. Especially valuable are newspaper clippings from La Opinión that showed the vibrancy of Southern Californians that never made it into the pages of the English-language press.

Maybe only people with ties to the South Bay will read this book cover to cover, and that’s understandable. But it’s also a challenge to all other Latino communities: if folks from Wilmington to Hermosa Beach to Compton can cover their sports history so thoroughly, why can’t the rest of us?

One of the most surprising books I read this year was Jorge Iber’s “The Sanchez Family: Mexican American High School and Collegiate Wrestlers from Cheyenne, Wyoming,” a short read that addresses two topics rarely written about: Mexican American freestyle wrestlers and Mexican Americans in the Equality State. Despite its novelty, it’s the most imperfect of my four recommendations. Since it’s ostensibly an academic book, Iber loads the pages with citations and references to other academics to the point where it sometimes reads like a bibliography and one wonders why the author doesn’t focus more on his own work. And in one chapter, Iber refers to his own work in the first person — profe, you’re cool but you’re not Rickey Henderson.

“The Sanchez Family” overcomes these limitations by the force of its subject, whose protagonists descend from Guanajuato-born ancestors that arrived to Wyoming a century ago and established a multi-generational wrestling dynasty worthy of the far-more famous Guerrero clan. Iber documents how the success of multiple Sanchez men on the wrestling mat led to success in civic life and urges other scholars to examine how prep sports have long served as a springboard for Latinos to enter mainstream society — because nothing creates acceptance like winning.

“In our family, we have educators, engineers and other professions,” Iber quotes Gil Sanchez Sr. a member of the first generation of grapplers. “All because a 15-year-old boy [him]…decided to become a wrestler.”

Heard that boxing is a dying sport? The editors of “Rings of Dissent: Boxing and Performances of Rebellion” won’t have it. Rudy Mondragón, Gaye Theresa Johnson and David J. Leonard not only refuse to entertain that idea, they call such critiques “rooted in racist and classist mythology.”

They then go on to offer an electric, eclectic collection of essays on the sweet science that showcases the sport as a metaphor for the struggles and triumphs of those that have practiced it for over 150 years in the United States. Unsurprisingly, California Latinos earn a starring role. Cal State Channel Islands professor José M. Alamillo digs up the case of two Mexican boxers denied entry in the United States during the 1930s, because of the racism of the times, digging up a letter to the Department of Labor that reads like a Stephen Miller rant: “California right now has a surplus of cheap boxers from Mexico, and something should be done to prevent the entry of others.”

Roberto José Andrade Franco retells the saga of Oscar De La Hoya versus Julio Cesar Chávez, landing less on the side of the former than pointing out the assimilationist façade of the Golden Boy. Mondragón talks about the political activism of Central Valley light welterweight José Carlos Ramírez both inside and outside the ring. Despite the verve and love each “Rings of Dissent” contributors have in their essays, they don’t romanticize it. No one is more clear-eyed about its beauty and sadness than Mondragón’s fellow Loyola Marymount Latino studies profe, Priscilla Leiva. She examines the role of boxing gyms in Los Angeles, focusing on three — Broadway Boxing Gym and City of Angels Boxing in South L.A, and the since-shuttered Barrio Boxing in El Sereno.

“Efforts to envision a different future for oneself, for one’s community, and for the city are not guaranteed unequivocal success,” she writes. “Rather, like the sport of boxing, dissent requires struggle.”

If those aren’t the wisest words for Latinos to embrace for the coming year, I’m not sure what is.

What do fallen empires leave behind? Djaimilia Pereira de Almeida’s new work of fiction attempts to answer that question. “Three Stories of Forgetting” probes the inner worlds of three men scarred by their participation in Portugal’s history of rapacious colonialist intervention that ended in 1999. For nearly 600 years, the European republic was involved in a bloody land grab that at its peak controlled over 5.5 million square miles across Africa, Asia and the Americas.

Pereira de Almeida’s protagonists — Celestino, a slave trader; Boa Morte, a former soldier who had been conscripted to fight his fellow Africans in the Guinea-Bissau War of Independence; and Bruma, an elderly plantation worker — live in a liminal state between past and present, searching for some measure of solace in a world that offers none. I chatted with Pereira de Almeida, who was born in Angola but was reared in Lisbon, about her haunting triptych of stories.

✍️ Author Chat

Three stories of forgetting … but nothing is forgotten among these men.

All three men are tormented by what they can’t forget, although they don’t feel exactly guilty, in the case of Celestino and Boa Morte. Bruma is a different story. The “forgetting” of the title relates to the omission of the figures who do not appear in the book, or who appear only occasionally, episodically. Those who are forgotten are the victims and their story. These three stories are also chapters of a more general story of violence, that of colonialism, whose victims are largely forgotten to this day.

Boa Morte, a valet in Lisbon, carries an enormous burden of guilt; in order to expiate it, he tries to save a young street vagrant. Of course, all attempts at redemption in the book are futile — why is that?

I don’t think redemption is as common as much of today’s fiction seems to suggest. The experience of guilt or of an existence haunted by ghosts seems more common to me. Boa Morte was forgotten by Portugal, the country for which he gave his life, and his hateful behavior left him utterly alone. What would redeem his life? Boa Morte is inspired by a man I knew who became my friend and lived on the streets of Lisbon, just like the character. One day, he was found dead in an alley. Not all lives know redemption.

The three protagonists are captives of their pasts, because the past is still present. Can you speak to that?

After reading [British philosopher] Peter Geach’s sentence that opens his book “The Virtues,” I became interested in inquiring into the lives of people who may be, so to speak, “dead in the eyes of God.” The problem with this possibility, however, is that we may die in the eyes of God early in life, without knowing it, and yet live to old age and remain here.

This sentence is important to me, regardless of its religious meaning. It is important in that it opens up the possibility that we may have exhausted our share of grace in life and, as humans, need to keep going.

All three of these characters are looking for some kind of solace — whether it’s reverting to some kind of quiet life among living things that don’t talk back, or building a lean-to as a kind of sanctuary.

Perhaps these places they seek are, in very different ways, the only possible remnants of rest: and also places where questions have ceased. Among living things that don’t talk there are no witnesses, there is no guilt.

You can’t write stories like these without some degree of empathy — do you feel sorry for these men? What do you feel for them as a writer?

I agree with that. I don’t feel sorry for them, but I tried to get closer to them and understand them, without imposing my ideas and opinions on them, something I don’t like to do when I write novels. Instead, I preferred, as I usually prefer, to fly around them like an insect, to study them, to let them talk to me: It is a non-imposing approach, which lets the characters speak. In general, I tend to be interested in characters I don’t like and who wouldn’t treat me with the kindness I show them. It’s my way of seeking justice, in its contradictions, and of exploring ambiguity in human behavior: I want to create hospitality, and that means being able to extend my hospitality to characters whose deeds I condemn.

(This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.)

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Jim Ruland talked to Thurston Moore about his new book that chronicles the Sonic Youth guitarist’s love of free jazz. “I go out with my band and I play typical band gigs,” says Moore, “but I prefer being in a basement with a free jazz drummer any day of the week.”

Mark Athitakis finds favor with W. David Marx’s “Blank Space,” a sharp critique that maps the decline of our present culture, as well as Adam Morgan’s biography of 20th century literary firebrand Margaret C. Anderson, a trailblazer who bucked the prevailing culture to champion challenging art, including Joyce’s “Ulysses.” “If we want more works like ‘Ulysses’ in our world (and far less cringe) … it will demand a stubbornness from creators and dedication from consumers that the current moment is designed to strip from us,” Athatakis writes.

Finally, three critics weigh in on the 15 best books of 2025, while Mariella Rudi ticks off the nine best celebrity memoirs of the year.

📖 Bookstore Faves

The San Fernando Valley has lost many of its beloved bookshops over the last two decades, but North Hollywood’s Iliad bookshop remains. The store, which first opened its doors 28 years ago and remains the greatest purveyor of used books in all of Los Angeles, is the kind of tangled labyrinth teeming with titles that one can get lost in for hours. I spoke with Dan Weinstein about what is moving out of the doors this holiday season.

What is selling in the Christmas rush this year?

We tend to sell the same kinds of titles all year round, so it’s standard literature, science fiction and the handful of authors we can’t keep on the shelves: Octavia Butler, Charles Bukowski, Sarah J. Maas and Brandon Sanderson. Also, a lot of gift cards! Actually, January is our strongest month for sales — winter kicks in and people like to stay at home and read.

Full disclosure: I’ve been a loyal Iliad customer since the ’90s. Do you tend to see the same faces across the years?

Oh, we have very serious hardcore customers that come over and over again. Some of them even come on a daily basis. Fortunately, we are always putting good new inventory out.

What about Hollywood business? You have a tremendous inventory of art and photography books. Do set designers come in to find inspiration?

We do sell a lot to the entertainment industry. That really keeps us alive. If we were doing business in a city other than Los Angeles, I don’t think we would do nearly as well.

The Iliad Bookshop is located in North Hollywood at 5400 Cahuenga Blvd.

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

Housed in a historic building in Old Town Tustin, Arvida Book Co. feels like it was plucked out of a romance novel — as though at any moment, strangers could reach for the same title, high school sweethearts could have a holiday run-in or an urban transplant could fall for a beloved homegrown barista.

Maybe it’s the brick exterior, or maybe it’s the heartfelt used book inscriptions, but bookstore co-owners Sam and Mike Robertson said Arvida is indeed the setting of many a first date and has even seen some proposals. For Sam, a self-declared “softie,” watching life unfold within Arvida’s walls has been a sweet surprise.

“This was always the dream, but I didn’t realize how much being the backdrop for people’s lives was going to affect me personally,” the bookseller said. She recalled recently watching one boy reading in the store and thinking to herself, “I remember the day you were born.”

As independent bookstores struggle in an Amazon-dominated market, Sam said she’s grateful for the support of a community that treasures that “third space” aspect of Arvida as much as she does. And where some do turn to “the giant that we shall not name,” as Sam dubbed Amazon, for lower prices, the bookseller said sales at the in-store Tolima Coffee Company cart fill in the gaps.

While Sam herself is a graduate of Peet’s Coffee — “coffee college,” as she called it — Mike is the true barista extraordinaire and even created a signature “Bookshop Blend” in collaboration with Stereoscope Coffee Co. Mike specializes in “coffee-forward” drinks, but he also recommended the matcha spritz and local-favorite ube latte for those with a sweet tooth.

With a cozy children’s nook and ample plush chairs to boot, Arvida is a perfect spot to spend a lazy weekend morning. If you need a better reason to make the trek from L.A., the bookstore’s charming Old Town neighbors are also fabulous for afternoon browsing.

BEING spat on by a walrus, ­shaking my backside with a chipmunk and having Peter Pan declare me an “honorary Lost Boy” isn’t usually how I spend my days.

But all of it happened to me, and more, when I visited Walt Disney World in ­Florida for the first time.

Prior to this, I’d only made it to Disneyland Paris when I was a child, despite a lot of begging to my parents.

But I’m happy to report it was worth the wait.

And new attractions are being added to the park continuously, so even if you have been before, no two visits are the same.

Last month saw the launch of 4D animated show Zootopia: Better Zoogether!, just weeks before Zootopia 2 started its run at cinemas.

Based in the Tree Of Life Theatre — under the roots of the 145ft tree at the centre of Animal Kingdom — the ­ten-minute show features wind, water and sudden seat move­ments as you watch the 3D short film.

Created by the same animators behind the popular 2016 movie Zootopia, it features beloved characters Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde, as well as new critters from the sequel.

Explaining the ride, Executive Creative Director of Walt Disney Imagineering, Chris Beatty, told me: “At its core, the show is Animal Kingdom based. This park is so unique, it’s very clear on what it’s trying to say and be.

“Nature and the interconnectedness of all things. That’s what it’s all about. Together we are stronger.”

But the magic is far more than this new show. It was like time had never passed since my first visit to Disney’s Paris resort, as I fully allowed my inner-child to take hold.

Mickey-shaped waffles for breakfast? Tick. Mickey-shaped ice cream sandwich? Tick. Coming back to your room to find the belongings you discarded haphazardly in a rush laid out neatly in the shape of Mickey? Tick.

Set across four theme parks — Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Disney’s Hollywood Studios, and Disney’s Animal Kingdom — it’s impossible to underplay how vast Walt Disney World is.

While Disney is, at its heart, a theme park packed with rides for thrill-seekers of all ages, for me the magic is, and will always be, found in the characters.

As we wandered through Frontierland — Magic Kingdom’s Wild West-themed area — we bumped into Toy Story’s Jessie, who was running about in between the buildings and playfully engaging in hide and seek with some children — never once breaking character mode.

Mary Poppins and chimney sweep Bert were also dancing down Main Street, USA, as families checked out the shops and snacked on Mickey-shaped sweet treats.

During my family visits to Paris as a child, I was obsessed with collecting autographs from each character.

And prior to my trip to Florida, I feared this wholesome trend might have fallen by the wayside in favour of selfies on phones. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Kids still line up, pen and autograph book in hand, to meet their idols in an age-old Disney tradition.

In fact, as we enjoyed a character ­dining experience at Magic Kingdom’s Crystal Palace with Winnie the Pooh and friends, I didn’t see a single child ask for a selfie.

Instead, they gazed longingly at their cartoon friends as they held out their arms for a hug or an autograph book to sign.

I have zero shame in admitting that I queued up to meet Mickey Mouse at the Town Square Theater at the entrance to the Magic Kingdom, as well as patiently waiting in line to recreate a childhood image of me hugging Pluto, 25 years later.

Then, over in the Animal Kingdom theme park, I spotted Pocahontas casually posing for photos with excited fans, and Donald Duck hosting a meet and greet with his own admirers.

This particular park is also home to arguably one of the best rides at Disney — Avatar Flight of Passage.

With standard queue times of around an hour, the attraction takes immersive rides to a new level.

Its seriously intense drops and tricks make it feel like you are flying on the back of a native mountain banshee (a dragon-esque creature) across the breathtaking landscape of Pandora, from the James Cameron-directed box office blockbusters.

While I loved the first film, released in 2009, I can’t say I’m a huge Avatar fan, having seen the second film, 2022’s The Way Of Water, only once.

But I challenge anyone not to be blown away by the ride and want to have a go on it again — whether they have seen the movies or not.

In fact, planning your rides and navigating the parks is simple thanks to the very useful Disney app.

Most jaw-dropping

It gives you up-to-date queue times for the main rides, a live map of your location and directions on how to get to your next attraction, as well as wait times for character interactions.

It was through the app that I was able to orchestrate a meet with the main mouse himself, Mickey, with just a 15-minute wait time.

Once inside, I was pleasantly surprised to discover the staff — or cast members, as Disney calls them — are more than happy to record videos or take pictures on your phone, despite the official shots also being available.

And for those worried about being slapped with a huge phone data bill like me, fear not.

All the Disney parks are equipped with free wifi, including on the complimentary shuttle buses between hotels and parks.

If you were in any doubt that Disney doesn’t do things by halves, check out one of the many nightly firework shows.

Surprisingly, the one at Epcot was the most jaw-dropping of my trip — clearly the area feels it has to go the extra mile as, unlike Magic Kingdom, it doesn’t have the Cinderella Castle to attract ­visitors.

Its extravaganza, called Luminous: The Symphony Of Us, boasts fireworks, music, lasers and dancing fountains.

A top tip I discovered is that if you’ve already seen the Magic Kingdom fireworks and find yourself in the park at 9pm, ride queues fall dramatically.

I spotted Pirates Of The Caribbean and Tiana’s Bayou Adventure drop from a usual wait time of 50-plus minutes to just five minutes — as did meeting Mickey Mouse at the Town Hall.

At Hollywood Studios, the Fantasmic Show, set on a lake at the top of Hollywood Boulevard and featuring characters and fireworks, was the ideal ending to my Disney adventure.

Walt Disney once said: “We are not trying to entertain the critics. I’ll take my chance with the public.”

But consider this critic highly entertained.