conversation

Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez says she is freezing her eggs as she decides her next political moves ahead of the 2028 presidential election campaign.

“This is a choice that I am making to feel more in control of my life,” Ocasio-Cortez, 36, said on Instagram about her decision regarding her reproductive options.

The New York congresswoman, a leading figure of Democrats’ progressive left flank, did not say explicitly whether she plans to have children. She said in her social media posts that she was taking a “political risk” in talking so personally about her potential family plans.

She said later on ABC “This Week” on Sunday that she has not ruled out running for president or for the U.S. Senate seat held by Democrats’ floor leader, Chuck Schumer of New York, in 2028. She explained that she wants to normalize conversations about what women face in their professional and personal lives, while also highlighting the policies of President Donald Trump’s administration.

“In this political environment, where this administration is denying reproductive care to women across the country, from abortion rights to the ability to carry out a healthy pregnancy, I think it’s important for us as leaders to have these conversations,” she said.

Trump’s administration opposes abortion rights, and the Republican president’s first-term appointees to the Supreme Court provided the margins in the 2022 ruling that struck down the Roe v. Wade decision that had established a constitutional right to terminate a pregnancy.

Separately, however, Trump in 2025 signed an executive order designed to lower the costs of in vitro fertilization.

Ocasio-Cortez sponsored a Democratic bill in 2022, when the party controlled the House, to codify abortion rights into federal law after the Supreme Court’s abortion decision.

As part of her weekend announcement, Ocasio-Cortez noted that women — in politics and other fields — face different standards and scrutiny about their family status.

“Men run for office, or frankly they interview for jobs, and people don’t think in the back of their minds, ‘OK, this guy’s running for office, how old is he? Oh, well, is he going to want to start a family?’” she said.

Barrow writes for the Associated Press.

Does the arbitrary nature of our daily existence cohere into something resembling a story? And if so, how do we begin to tease out meaning from that story?

Valeria Luiselli posits these questions in her new book, “Beginning Middle End,” but mercifully she doesn’t weigh down her fiction with pedantry. Rather, Luiselli tucks her ideas into the folds of an all too human story about a woman, stinging from a recent divorce, and her younger daughter as they embark on a journey across Sicily. The book is written in fragmentary fashion, discrete chunks of prose that accrete into a greater whole, much like the ancient mosaics that are among of the novel’s thematic touchstones.

I recently spoke with Luiselli about Proteus, Pliny the Elder and Polaroid photos.

✍️ Author Chat

There are resonances of your last novel “Lost Children Archive” in “Beginning Middle End.” Certain character names are repeated, and there is also an audio-visual component, as there was previously. Additionally, a QR code in your new novel allows the reader to access audio recordings related to the book. Is this part of a larger project you have in mind?

I learned a lot about [sound and sound recording] when I was writing “Lost Children.” After I finished it I devoted the next five years to a work in progress called “Echoes From the Borderlands,” recording the sounds of the Mexican-U.S. borderlands. I think of “Beginning Middle End” as a book that exists both in its textual version and in its sonic translation.

The story is told in a fragmentary fashion, with short paragraphs that are separated by subheadings. And the last third of the book contains Polaroid pictures and postcards that relate to the story. There is also a mosaic tessera that is integral to the narrative. What is it that appeals to you about the notion of a story that is constructed from lots of discrete parts?

I’ve been interested for some time now in thinking about how to shorten the distance between process and result in such a way that the signs of the process can be read in the final project. When I’m working on something, I’m collecting postcards and archival material, and taking Polaroid pictures along the way, partly because I know that my process in writing is not linear. And I use Polaroids almost as Post-It notes, as another form of note taking.

Valeria Luiselli’s new novel, “Beginning Middle End,” is about memory and imagination.

(Clayton Cubitt)

It’s such a fascinating creative process.

It can be incredibly frustrating. Because sometimes it’s years before I know what language I’m going to be using in its final form.

Your book is about many things, but the act of storytelling is definitely a major theme. Not just in fiction, but in the way we shape our own personal narratives and how they are transmitted. And this notion of “the middle” as a space that hovers between two poles, the place where you are looking behind and ahead, between life and death, and so on.

The mother in the story is in the mess of the middle, trying to make sense of things and laying out events, but not really finding the deeper threads that tie life together and give it some kind of meaning. And it is only until her daughter arrives at the end of the book that you can read the novel backwards somehow, and understand in hindsight how she, the daughter, has seen a relationship all along between all these seemingly arbitrary events. She is the one that finds meaning in a sequence, where the mother sees only chaos.

The book is grounded in Greek and Roman Classical texts. Proteus and Pliny the Elder feature prominently. Where does your interest in the Classics come from?

The early pre-Socratic philosophers were the first to observe nature without the scaffolding of mythology, who were really just trying to make sense of it. And so that’s how I arrived eventually at Pliny, who has this 37-volume compendium of observations of nature that ask all the important questions about the oceans and rivers and mountains and the sky and the clouds. Pliny became a kind of ghost that led me through the years in which I was writing this novel.

Your novel delves into the relationship between memory and imagination.

What guides me are questions that press on me. I have little interest in plots early on. I become interested in plot as an emanation from questioning things. And one of those questions was about the relationship between memory and imagination. How are the two things connected? How much is our imagination shaped by our memory?

One of the writers that has best addressed that question is Jorge Luis Borges in the last story he ever wrote, “Shakespeare’s Memory,” where the protagonist has two consciousnesses inhabiting his interiority. When a train passes, he doesn’t know what it is, because he’s in Shakespeare mode. He doesn’t have a memory of the sound of a train. That story can be read as an allegory for how our memories and imaginations work as readers. We have all our life events that compose our being and our memory of life, but we also have everything we have read. And I think that that’s really where the discussion around imagination and memory gets very interesting.

This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Christopher Nolan’s film adaptation of “The Odyssey” ignited a fire in the literary world, inspiring harsh critiques from Homer translator Emily Wilson and staunch defenses from Joyce Carol Oates and Susan Orlean.

(Illustration by Jim Cooke / Los Angeles Times; Source: Louis-Frédéric Schützenberger)

Chris Young was serving two life terms without parole for a low-level drug charge when Kim Kardashian intervened. The reality TV mogul successfully petitioned President Trump to commute Young’s sentence in 2021. Now Young has written “The Wound Is Where the Light Enters,” a searing memoir that “not only reveals the system’s horrors, but also celebrates the redemptive power of hope, intellect and community,” writes Julia M. Klein.

Justin Halpern, the co-showrunner of ABC’s “Abbott Elementary,” has written his first novel, called “Get Lost,” and Stuart Miller talked to him about it. Of taking on the challenge of writing alone, Halpern told Miller that “I’m definitely still codependent, but the novel forced me to venture into waters that I never would have gotten into on my own.”

The battle over Christopher Nolan’s movie adaptation of “The Odyssey” rages on. In the wake of Homer translator Emily Wilson’s excoriating critique of the film, Emily St. Martin reports that Susan Orlean and Joyce Carol Oates have publicly rallied behind Nolan. In a recent post on X, Oates wrote that Wilson’s “tone of dismissal & haughty superiority strike a sour note.”

Steve Wasserman takes a deep dive into “Too L.A.,” a newly published collection of author Eve Babitz’s rich trove of mostly unsent correspondence. The letters “brilliantly reveal Babitz’s eye for the deep shallow as well as explore the porous boundary between the largely self-inflicted injuries of her private life and the glittering sheen of her public persona,” writes Wasserman.

📖 Bookstore Faves

Whitmore Rare Books in Pasadena caters to customers who value the physical experience of reading books.

(Pierre Galant Photography)

Although it lives on a busy Pasadena street corner, Whitmore’s Rare Books feels like something a book hound might discover in London or New York: an elegantly appointed space with a large bookshelf running along the length of one wall that contains some of the store’s inventory of antiquarian treasures. Founded by a former lawyer turned bookseller and Pasadena native Dan Whitmore, the store is doing brisk business among a younger clientele that still values the tactile pleasures to be found from beautiful books. I spoke with Whitmore about what’s selling in his store.

How long have you been in the rare book business?

I stumbled into a first edition when I was in law school in Philadelphia in 2006 and I was bitten by the bug to start a collection. I worked as a lawyer for a year out here in L.A. and quit my job in 2009 to pursue rare books full time. So we’re coming up on 17 years, which is a good stretch, although there are people who’ve been in the trade for 50 or 60 years.

How do you find your inventory?

You amass this database of knowledge over time, and there really isn’t a substitute for it. I know people think that the AI boom is going to just turn around and be able to do what we do, but it’s not quite that simple. You really have to understand the market and the way that the market tends to shift over time. More modern material can shift a bit faster. But a Shakespeare folio or Darwin’s “On the Origin of Species” or Adam Smith’s “The Wealth of Nations,” books that document important moments in history where something new is introduced to the world, will always have value.

We just bought a first edition of “Alcoholics Anonymous,” and a second edition that was inscribed by Bill Wilson. These are books that have had such a profound impact on so many people’s lives that there’s this really strong market for early AA books.

What is selling presently?

I would say things like fantasy, science fiction, especially some of the classics: “Lord of the Rings,” “The Hobbit.” Some of these iconic works are having a moment right now, such as “Dune,” “I, Robot” and the “Foundation” trilogy. There are new buyers coming in, and I think some of that is tech money — people who maybe grew up reading these books and find inspiration there.

Why should we spend a lot of money on old books, when we can buy new ones for a lot less?

I don’t think that everyone is a collector or should be. I think that there are people who love the physical objects. They love the connection to history, that feeling of thinking about what it must have been like when someone opened the book and read that for the first time, and they get to have that experience again.

Whitmore Rare Books is at 121 E. Union St. in Pasadena.

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

Natalie Nakase was about to coach the Golden State Valkryies against the Toronto Tempo on Sunday when she was asked about a controversy surrounding a different team and one of its players.

The WNBA’s first Asian-American coach was more than happy to give her opinion about transgender women playing in women’s sports, which has loomed over the league since Indiana Fever guard Sophie Cunningham spoke out against it last month.

“Thank you for that question,” Nakase, a former Clippers assistant coach, said during her pregame news conference. “For me, sports is about belonging. It’s about inclusivity. It’s about allowing everyone to be their authentic self. You know, I’m big on that just because I have been criticized for my height, for my ethnicity.

“I’ve been in those ‘you shouldn’t belong here’ [discussions] many times. And for me, I don’t want that space, especially Golden State, to ever feel like that. So I’m all about women, little girls deserving to play, and that includes trans women. So I’m all about inclusivity.”

Nakase’s comments came on the same day that Minnesota Lynx coach Cheryl Reeve wore a T-shirt that read “Trans kids belong” under her jacket during her team’s game against the Fever. Reeve and Cunningham were seen speaking before the game, but the WNBA’s all-time winningest coach declined to reveal the details of their discussion to reporters afterward.

“Both of us understand that we have platforms and we both talked about wanting to, more than anything, educate,” Reeve said. “And there are some things that we have in common, and maybe some things you differ on, just like any issues, and I think it’s how you handle things.”

It was the third consecutive Fever road game at which supporters of both sides of the argument gathered outside the arena to rally for their cause. It was also the third straight game at which Cunningham received boos from the crowd inside the arena.

Cunningham, who didn’t speak with reporters after the game, posed for pictures with Jennifer Sey and Riley Gaines, two outspoken political activists against transgender women in women’s sports.

Fever teammate Caitlin Clark, one of the WNBA’s biggest stars, did speak with reporters, for the first time since the controversy started. A reporter opened the news conference following Indiana’s 108-100 loss to the Lynx by asking Clark how she and her teammates have navigated the conversation around the issue.

“I think, for us, it’s not really a discussion we really have in our locker room,” Clark said. “I think it’s for leagues and governing bodies to work with their athletes to find solutions. But our focus is on basketball. That’s what we talk about and how we can get wins, and obviously we didn’t do that tonight, so we need to find an area to improve in that way.”

When the same reporter started asking Clark for her reaction on the matter, she cut him off.

“I just answered for you,” she said.

In a July 21 ESPN article, Cunningham said she wants to “protect young girls in a locker room, or young girls in sport who shouldn’t have to go against biological men.”

The next day, she told reporters that her stance is “kind of common sense,” adding, “I’ll stand on what I said, and I’ll always believe that.”

Before the Fever’s game on Friday in Portland, Cunningham told reporters, “I’m here to play basketball, but I’m also here to be me, and I’m not gonna like shadow that or hide or, you know, dim my light just because maybe people don’t agree with that.”

Speaking to reporters before the same game, Indiana coach Stephanie White expressed some “frustration” in not being able to focus entirely on basketball but said “I also understand this is part of our growth edge as a league.”

“We have to to be able to manage, we have to be able to insulate as much as we can, and then we have to be able to lead with conversation,” she said.

Asked how she would feel about a “biological male” playing in the WNBA, White said: “I’m not educated enough in terms of transgender and transitioning to give you a smart answer. I would say, though, that I just don’t feel like exclusion is an answer, and I think that we need to have deeper, more layered conversations.”

Portland coach Alex Samara told reporters before that the transgender community has the team’s “full support.”

“They’re a very important part of what the values of the Portland Fire are,” he said. “I know our organization is going to be intentional in making sure our fans feel comfortable and supported when they come here to the fire pit.”

Earlier last week, Seattle Storm co-owner Celeste Keaton was banned by the WNBA from attending her team’s next five home games after she allegedly cursed at two teenage girls who were holding a sign in support of Cunningham when the Storm was playing the Fever on Tuesday.

Do you think the Rams have a tracker at their headquarters for how many days it’s been since Puka Nacua’s last embarrassing incident?

They might. Because we all remember how frequently the self-inflicted damages were occurring during that bizarre and jarring stretch starting late last year.

We had the biting incident and alleged antisemitic comments on New Year’s Eve. Before that, we had the Rams’ star receiver making antisemitic gestures on a livestream with a couple of controversial streamers.

We also had him publicly calling out NFL officials on a stream and in a social media post sent from the locker room, and getting fined $25,000 by the league for that. We had his weird post on X — a laughing emoji and “sam darnold” — after the Seattle Seahawks’ quarterback led his team to the Super Bowl LX championship on Feb. 9, when Nacua also was recorded stumbling and dancing in a San Francisco street after the game.

We had this all within just a couple of months. So we had to replace the image we previously had of Nacua as a jolly, smiling football star with a new one: a picture of teeth marks on a woman’s skin.

Ick.

Rams receiver Puka Nacua signs autographs during training camp at Loyola Marymount University on Sunday.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

Nacua said Wednesday that he’s trying to be better, to do better.

“Definitely trying to take accountability for the things that I know that I can continue to change,” the 25-year-old said at Rams’ training camp at Loyola Marymount.

We should all hope so.

There’s enough at stake, don’t you think?

For Nacua, there’s the proverbial bag to secure. For the Rams, there’s the Super Bowl at SoFi Stadium, which everyone believes should be theirs for the taking. And there’s what winning will mean for the franchise’s stature in L.A., a city that’s impressed by little that’s short of championships.

Don’t mess this up, Puka.

No one wants the distraction of bizarre and disturbing behavior, of internet idiocy or civil lawsuits. (Nacua’s attorney, Levi McCathern, said the alleged bite was the result of “horseplay” and the Los Angeles city attorney’s office indicated last week that the matter was on track to be resolved through a program that allows eligible defendants to avoid criminal prosecution and jail time.)

No one wants to wonder what could have been if it turns out quarterback Matthew Stafford can’t count on Nacua getting open and punishing defenders downfield.

And no one should want to see the Rams’ sure-handed wide receiver let generational wealth slip through his fingers.

Nacua is one of those athletes who you trust on the field to make the play, but all his off-field shenanigans gave the Rams reason to doubt him, to make him skip his turn at the big payday.

He was up for a contract extension that could have paid him as much as $160 million over four years, instead he’ll be earning $5.8 million this season. He’ll have to prove himself to the Rams as a reliable investment.

But that’s OK, Nacua said. He’s happy to be back at work.

Rams receiver Puka Nacua tries to slip past defensive back Trent McDuffie during training camp at Loyola Marymount University on Sunday.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

“There have been things outside of my control that I think have impacted the way I’ve been able to kind of focus and enjoy this game of football,” he said. “But coming out here and seeing that jersey No. 12 hung up in my locker is something that I don’t take for granted … the level of connection that I feel like I have with all the guys out there, [it] has never crossed my mind that I don’t want to be out here.”

One of the Rams’ primary weapons on offense, a barefooted Nacua went on the charm offensive after practice Wednesday, opening his media scrum by joking with reporters, asking how his hair looked and whether he had any boogers visible in his nose.

He looked fit, like he’s been taking care of himself. He said he was mostly laying off McDonald’s, seeing a therapist and appreciating football as a safe space. The dad of a baby boy, he spoke about that too.

He said he’s closed his “circle of trust” and expressed regret for actions that, he said, “haven’t been the truest reflection of the person I feel like I am, and how my mother raised me.”

“There’s definitely been conversations with her to apologize, but also for her to say that she supports me,” Nacua said of his mom, Penina, who brought up Puka and his five siblings as a single parent after her husband, Lionel, died in 2012.

“And also my brothers are, I think, my biggest critics as well,” Nacua said. “So there were some intense conversations, but loving conversations, in order to see improvement.”

Nacua is one of the Rams’ best players and absolutely their most popular. The loudest roar at Wednesday’s practice was when he showed up on the sideline with fellow receiver Davante Adams. When it was over, the sound of children shrieking “Puka!” reverberated off the bleachers.

The Rams are fans, too. Nacua isn’t tolerated for his talent; he’s adored for his spirit.

Coach Sean McVay loves the guy, a fifth-round draft pick out of BYU who broke a 63-year-old record for the most receiving yards by a rookie in NFL history: “You know how much I love him and the heart that he has,” McVay said Wednesday. “And I’ve been really proud of what he’s been doing and how he’s taking accountability for some of the things that we can learn from.”

Nacua said he was buoyed by messages from teammates during this turbulent offseason, in which he checked himself into a Malibu rehab facility to, as attorney McCathern said, “focus on his health, personal growth and overall development.”

We all know how valuable Nacua is on the field, but now we’re going to find out how much he values this opportunity, getting to take another rep to repair his reputation.

We’re going to find out if this man of many routes can run straight-and-narrow. Whether the slow-moving train wreck can get back on track. Whether he can keep stacking incident-free days.

Nacua says he can. “I feel,” he said, “very confident about that.”

Jared Leto faces allegations of criminal sexual conduct by several women who allege the sexual incidents with the musician and Oscar-winning actor occurred when he was in his 30s and 40s and they were teenagers.

In a BBC documentary titled “Jared Leto: Hollywood’s Dark Secret,” multiple women spoke about their experiences with the “House of Gucci” star and Thirty Seconds to Mars frontman, detailing allegations of inappropriate text messages, sexual assault and statutory rape from 2002 to 2016. Among the allegations, one woman said she was 17 years old when Leto sexually assaulted her in a motel bathroom. Another woman alleges Leto continued to sexually pursue her in Los Angeles despite knowing she was 17 years old, younger than the age of consent in California.

Leto, in a statement shared with The Times on Wednesday, denied the allegations raised by the BBC documentary: “I have never sexually assaulted anyone in my entire life,” he said. “These claims are absolutely and categorically false.”

Journalist and documentarian Jessica Sartenaer said in the segment published Wednesday that the BBC began its investigation into allegations against Leto after noting an Instagram story from a prominent DJ based in Los Angeles. In a since-expired Instagram story, DJ Allie Teilz, resurfaced a 2012 Facebook post in which she accused Leto of trying to “force himself” onto her backstage at a concert. Teilz captioned her repost: “Jared Leto was a creep then..still a creep now, going on 15+ years of being Hollywood’s most persistent predator,” according to the BBC documentary.

Numerous social media users reportedly responded to Teilz’s posts with their own claims about Leto’s alleged predatory behavior, many noting they were subject to Leto’s misconduct when they were teens. A woman identified as “Etta” told the BBC she was 14 when Leto approached her outside of a modeling agency and invited her to an Oscars party. Etta provided email correspondences to the outlet and said the “Morbius” actor encouraged her to stay in contact via text after the invite. Text messages turned into phone calls and conversations about her modeling career quickly turned sexual, according to the documentary. Leto allegedly asked Etta about her virginity, her kinks and sexual capabilities.

Etta said in the documentary that Leto’s legal team allegedly contacted her and urged her to sign a nondisclosure agreement about her relationship with the actor, though she never did.

The documentary portrays Leto as a celebrity who leveraged his fame to connect with young fans and control them. The woman who alleged she was sexually assaulted by Leto at age 17 in a motel bathroom told the BBC she met Leto in 2002 at a mall in Las Vegas. Leto would have been in his early 30s at the time. He invited her to meet him at a nearby motel. She waited in the room while he stepped into the shower, but he eventually called her over and began kissing her, according to the BBC. The woman, identified as “Isabelle,” accused Leto of forcing her hand to his genitals and using her hand to masturbate. Isabelle pulled away and moved to leave the room, but Leto allegedly looked outside the motel room for any potential bystanders before letting her out, she recalled to the BBC.

The BBC also published allegations by “Clara,” the woman who said Leto knowingly had sex with her when she was 17 — he was 34 at the time — at his house in California. Clara said she connected with Leto after his associate requested her phone number. She and her friend were invited to spend time with the band at the Chateau Marmont in Hollywood, where the age of consent of California became a topic of conversation. Leto, who allegedly shrugged off the conversation, invited Clara and her friend back to his home and told the friend to wait in another room while he had sex with Clara. Clara visited Leto’s home a total of three or four times, according to the BBC. She also alleged that Leto often requested that she call him “daddy” and that she pretend to be a little girl.

Leto in 2013 allegedly invited another woman, named Alex, to his band’s concert at London’s O2 and to an after-party. She was 19 at the time but told Leto she was younger out of a need to protect herself, the BBC reported. Leto allegedly replied: “Age is just a number, and anyway, we’re in Europe.” Alex alleges Leto threatened to sexually assault her in a hotel room later that evening.

The BBC also spoke to men who who worked closely with Leto’s band, Thirty Seconds to Mars. One man said Leto was often texting girls to invite them to spend time with the band. Leto also allegedly asserted control by ignoring the girls he invited and speaking to them rudely. The man also recalled that Leto took one fan, who was dropped off by her parents, “off to the bedroom.” Afterward, she called her parents to pick her up.

Leto has long faced quiet scrutiny for his alleged behavior with women and girls. In 2005 the New York Post published a story accusing the actor of “aggressively pursuing many” teen models. Last year Air Mail published accusations against Leto of impropriety by nine women, though he denied those claims at the time.

Still, the actor-musician has moved on from those allegations seemingly unscathed. Leto, who won his Oscar in 2014 for “Dallas Buyers Club,” most recently appeared in “Masters of the Universe” and is set to tour with his band next year.

CHICAGO — After leaders of the Southeastern Conference spent last week warning of a Plan B to potentially “break away” from the NCAA, Big Ten commissioner Tony Petitti tried to steer away from that conversation and toward a Congressional solution on Tuesday.

But if Congress can’t pass the Protect College Sports Act in the coming weeks? Well, the conference is already talking contingency plans, Petitti said.

“Breakaway is a word that creates a lot of emotion,” Pettiti said during his annual Big Ten media day address on Tuesday. “Is there another path where if you can’t solve it in the bill and if you can’t solve it with your colleagues, is there some path where you have to have conference-based rules? That’s not necessarily breaking away. It doesn’t mean you’re not going to play anybody else. But is there a path to have rules that we can at least operate from the conference?

“We absolutely have to do everything we can to prepare for every one of those things.”

The future of college football continues to hang in the balance as Congress works to get the two power conferences on board with a bill that has not received their full support. Petitti said on Tuesday morning that he’d yet to see the new language of the Protect College Sports Act, which added revisions to appease the SEC and Big Ten, but expected to see it later Tuesday.

The commissioner said he didn’t expect the bill to be “perfect for us in every one one of those places,” but he expected concessions to be included in the newest version, including potential provisions around a super league, pre-enrollment inducements for high school prospects and a carve-out for up to $20 million in additional cap space to retain players.

Whether those concessions will be enough to get the two power conferences on board remains to be seen. Time is running out for a bill to be passed before Congress takes a lengthy recess, significantly delaying any meaningful reform in college athletics.

“If Congress is going to be involved in deciding who can be in what conference and when you can move and how you move and how you schedule based on certain things happening, we just need to get that right,” Petitti said. “And so we want to make sure that the productive conversations we’ve had the last couple of weeks on that section specifically are reflected in the drafting of the bill.”

Petitti said that the Big Ten would’ve preferred “a much skinnier bill” than the current version, but “that is not the reality right now.”

“Is there more good here than not, right?” Petitti said. “That’s the way to look at it.”

Passing that bill is the primary focus for now. It’s why Petitti has been to Washington 21 times, he said, during his tenure as commissioner. But other uncertainty still looms over the sport.

The Big Ten is still also pushing for a 24-team College Football Playoff, but Petitti said that the conference’s stance has evolved since he first started pushing the idea a year ago.

“We’ve made adjustments in our league,” Petitti said. “We were focused on automatic qualifiers. We’re not focused on that anymore. We’re looking at the committee picking the field of 24. We feel that ultimately will still unlock the power of scheduling that we want.”

In 2007, for the first time in recorded history, more humans were living in urban spaces than rural ones. The animal kingdom has followed suit. In our cities, we are surrounded by synanthropes — wild animals that have adapted to human-modified environments and have learned to thrive in them — yet most of us are unaware of the biodiversity of this urban wildlife and how it functions along a parallel track with its human brethren.

Dan Werb’s latest book “Our Wild Familiars” explains how these “soil churners … epidemic vectors and ecosystem partners” have a crucial role to play in the future sustainability of our communities. I talked to Werb about coyotes, the health benefits of birdsong and seagulls with junk-food issues.

✍️ Author Chat

You are an epidemiologist.

I was trained as a social epidemiologist — somebody who can look at how societal factors influence the health of populations. I study how society determines who lives and dies, who is sick and who is healthy.

I’m wondering if it was your interest in Zoonotic viruses that led you to this subject?

The last book I wrote was called “The Invisible Siege.” It is an overview of the history of coronavirus science, starting in the ‘80s, braided with the much longer history of the coronavirus family. And it ends with this scientist who is describing being in northern Thailand and moving through Myanmar and Yunnan Province in China in the ‘90s. And he stumbles upon this exotic animal market near the Shan Autonomous state, which is an ethnic enclave in northern Myanmar that’s been at war with the junta there forever. And this market’s got cloud leopard skins, civets and every crazy, exotic animal that you can imagine. And they were all being sent directly into China. And it’s exactly this kind of trafficking that is carrying all these viruses, like this superhighway of exotic animals into urban areas.

But not all urban animals are vectors for disease. In fact, we have fostered very cushy urban environments for many different species. Pigeons, for example, who don’t have to fly in cities because they have no natural predators.

Chris Shell, a coyote expert from Altadena that I interviewed, pointed out that pigeons do have to worry about predators now, because there are red tail hawks and coyotes and other creatures. Our urban ecosystems are becoming more complex. There are some biologists that are describing our time right now in North America as the great urban shift. They’ve done modeling exercises showing that over the next few decades there are literally going to be thousands of species moving into urban areas. They’re increasingly going to be mega-fauna, much larger animals.

Why is that happening?

We’re seeing the continuing acceleration of the transformation of wild spaces into human modified spaces. But it’s also because of extreme weather events. If you look at the horrible fires that occurred in Los Angeles last year, one of the things that happened was hundreds of thousands, even millions, of animals had to flee those areas that were on fire, and they fled into urban areas. What do urban areas provide? Constant sources of freshwater, continual sources of food waste, and other prey. You’ve got climate change happening, and that’s causing this real shift of animals moving into different places.

Dan Werb, author of “Our Wild Familiars,” a new book about wild animals who’ve managed to survive in human communities.

(Joseph Fuda)

What about a less traditional metropolitan space, like L.A. County, which is a hodgepodge of so many different kinds of topography and terrain.

L.A. is super fascinating because lot size isn’t directly related to income. It’s very much more heterogeneous and variable, even within neighborhoods. The wealthier a neighborhood is, the higher the biodiversity is going to be, because we’re going to have larger lots, more green space, fewer fences, things like that.

We have a complicated relationship with coyotes in L.A., especially those of us who have lost pets to them. But according to your book, we have trapped them in our cities.

Coyotes need to have pathways that allow them to move in and out cities. As it is now, they move into urban environments looking for food and water, and they can’t get out. They get trapped in cities, and conflict happens. Like black bears in suburbs across large parts of North America that dig into people’s garbage.

And bears and other animals eating, say, fast food leftovers is a nutritional disaster as well.

It’s like an ecological trap. They see no reason why they would leave, even though staying is actually more dangerous for them. And there are all kinds of ecological traps across cities that manifest in different ways. One that I always think about is seagulls at the seashore that have evolved over tens of millions of years to be able to hunt fish and shellfish. And the fish are right there, yet they’re eating french fries because it’s slightly less work.

You mention the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing that spans the 101 freeway in Agoura Hills, the first animal crossing of its kind in America, as a potential solution to this problem.

I think it’s great. One hopes there will be more projects like that undertaken in other cities around the world.

We’ve discussed all the rotten things that are going on with animals in cities. Why is it a wonderful thing that animals have come into our cities and our lives?

If we hear birdsong, we’re less stressed. If we hear additional birdsong, it multiplies the stress-relieving effect. Being close to animals is biologically beneficial for us. It’s really about connection. I look at AI, and there’s this kind of sense that an AI chat bot can decrease loneliness. But it’s just an echo chamber. I think a true connection is bridging some kind of divide in the way that you think or perceive the world. And in that sense, being aware of an animal who is aware of you takes you out of yourself in a way that I think is really, really special.

This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Book jacket for “You Won’t Get Free of It: Stories of Mothers and Daughters” by Rachel Aviv

(Los Angeles Times illustration; book jacket from Knopf)

The ostensible topic of Rachel Aviv’s new essay collection, “You Won’t Get Free of It,” is mothers and daughters, but according to Julia M. Klein, Aviv’s sparkling, sharp-eyed pieces “involve the slipperiness of truth and the crushing inadequacy of our mental-health system and social safety net.”

“Cool Machine,” the final volume of Colson Whitehead’s Harlem trilogy, is an “American epic disguised as a heist novel,” writes Leigh Haber. “Whether or not New York is your jam, or a place you have escaped from or to, Whitehead’s Harlem Trilogy is destined to live on as an American classic.”

Whitney Friedlander profiles Jessica Knoll, one of America’s most successful authors of sexy thrillers that “depict the absolute worst things one person could do to another — but in such a sensational, tongue-prickling-sour-candy kind of way that her books come off as devilishly evil beach reads.”

Finally, Dan Tana’s book about his legendary, eponymously-named restaurant in West Hollywood, “Everybody Came to Tana’s,” has been posthumously published. Sixty-two years after the restaurant’s opening, it’s still a tough reservation to snag. “In a town that’s always trying to be something that it’s not, it’s not trying to be anything,” his daughter Katerina tells Maddie Connors. “Dan Tana’s is longevity in the midst of ephemera.”

📖 Bookstore Faves

The Philosophical Research Society is a Los Angeles Historic Cultural Monument in Los Feliz.

(Philosophical Research Society)

There is nothing else in L.A. like the Philosophical Research Society. The nonprofit was founded by scholar Manly Hall in 1934 as a place for the curious to explore wisdom, philosophy, mysticism and mythology across all cultures. Its visually striking Mayan Revival Los Feliz campus, a Los Angeles Historic Cultural Monument, features an auditorium, a gallery and a library of 30,000 volumes. The PRS bookshop is its own gem, a well-curated miscellany of books for spiritual seeking and enlightenment.

In a joint email exchange, PRS staffers dama, Jarrett Schaefer, Kelly Carmena and Amanda Brass explain what makes the store a sui generis experience.

How does the bookshop tie in thematically with the Philosophical Research Society?

The PRS Bookstore is a reflection of all that we do here at PRS. It is an extension of the library created by Manly Hall where you will find foundational texts in alchemy, mythology, philosophy, astrology, and art. You will also find a selection of books based on themes explored in our talks and screenings and from recommendations made by the team at PRS.

It’s a very well-curated inventory of new and secondhand books — I assume you’re very careful about what you stock on the shelves.

We select works that are meaningful to us and hope that they will resonate with everyone too. We highlight works by mystics and visionaries. In our staff recommendations section, you’ll find titles like Ben Caldwell and Robeson Taj Frazier’s “Kaos Theory,” art books by Penny Slinger, Betye Saar and Remedios Varo, Yoko Ono’s “Grapefruit,” “Red Tarot” by Christopher Marmolejo, “The Bhagavad Gita,” and “Time, Myth & Matter” by LD Deutsch. We also feature items from local artists like Moss Candles, Black Willow Jewelry, and perfume by Syd Botanica. Our secondhand books are donation-only and are a kaleidoscopic bag of surprises.

The Philosophical Research Society features an auditorium, a gallery, a library of 30,000 volumes and a bookshop.

(Philosophical Research Society)

What book genres tend to sell well?

Esoteric art, mythology, tarot and divinatory practices, ancient philosophy, and hermeticism are all popular subjects. The top-selling book every year is Manly Hall’s seminal work “The Secret Teachings of All Ages,” which is an encyclopedic outline of symbolic philosophy. The used astrology books and children’s books are quite popular too.

Do you have author events?

We’ve hosted book talks with Mark Mothersbaugh, Michelle Coltrane, Mitch Horowitz and Susan Orlean. We regularly co-present events with publishers like Hat & Beard Press, Angel City Press, the Library of Esoterica, Sky Press, Ouroboros Press and Bibliomancers. There are also monthly events that are centered around the bookstore: The Manly Hall Book Club, Astro Study Group, Surrealist Study Group, Tarot Salon and an Esoteric Game Night.

Philosophical Research Society is at 3910 Los Feliz Blvd. in Los Angeles.

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

San Juan arrives at the Cruz de Mayo Wake

For this second installment of our work on Venezuela’s life cycle festivities (click here for part I), we present an in-depth conversation with the renowned Venezuelan musician, cultural practitioner, and percussionist Rolando Canónico. Together, we reflect on the immense responsibility of preserving Venezuelan traditions, specifically during festivals such as Cruz de Mayo and San Juan. From his dual role as a professional musician and cultural worker, Canónico addresses the tension between the commodification of music or competitive virtuosity and absolute respect for ancestral rhythmic and melodic patterns, defending the playing of the drum as an act of genuine devotion rather than a spectacle. He further delves into the powerful spiritual and syncretic connection he experiences when “dialoguing” with the instrument, underscoring his firm commitment to protecting and passing on this invaluable family and cultural heritage to new generations in Caracas.

A percussionist, drummer, and cultural creator, Canónico has participated in Fundación Bigott and renowned musical groups such as Caracas Sincrónica and Francisco Pacheco y su Pueblo. His trajectory is intertwined with a more discrete, yet vital, task: safeguarding Venezuelan musical memory. What began as a conversation between friends turned into a deep discussion about ethics, spirituality, and the responsibility of honoring the legacy of our ancestors in the twenty-first century.

Family and heritage: the weaving of a music lineage

To understand Rolando Canónico, one must look back at his ancestry. “My paternal grandparents passed away many years ago: Luisa Amelia Aponte de Canónico and Benito Canónico,” he recounts. Benito Canónico was the author of “El Totumo de Guarenas,” an important folk music composition. A musical heritage that flows through Rolando’s veins. However, as we delve into his role as a “host” of these festivities, Rolando turned his gaze toward his maternal lineage –to the women who, through the energy of daily life, kept the flame of devotion alive.

His story takes us to the Afinque Marín in the densely populated Afro-Venezuelan community of San Agustín, Caracas, where his maternal great-grandmother became a cultural bridge. “When that wave of people from Barlovento arrived –that migration boom from Barlovento to Caracas –she had the opportunity to be there when all these cultural expressions arrived,” he explained. It was there that, without any artistic pretensions, driven solely by faith, his great-grandmother began to adorn the Cruz de Mayo.

This responsibility passed to his grandmother, Rosa Emilia Pérez Sanz. “She embraced it as such,” Rolando told us, describing a pedagogical-community learning process where knowledge wasn’t taught in classrooms, but rather through observation and habits shared with neighbors. Music, for its part, was naturally incorporated through his mother, the founder of local band Los Tucusitos, blending Christmas carols with the fervor of the Cruz de Mayo vigil. For Rolando, that early exposure to music, combined with the discipline of his musical training, allowed him to turn a family passion into a profession.

A double celebration: a rite of transition and coming together

The celebration that Rolando Canónico holds at his home in La Pastora is not a one-off event, but rather part of a 43-year tradition that has been formally recognized by the Culture Ministry’s Institute of Cultural Heritage for the past 15 years. Every last Saturday in May, the house becomes the setting for a symbolic transition: the farewell to May, dedicated to Cruz de Mayo (May Cross), and welcoming June, the month of San Juan.

The logistical effort is monumental. “It’s not just a matter of sitting there, shouting some stuff, and that’s it,” Rolando emphasized. The process begins days in advance, with the presentation of newborn children and spiritual cleansings. Rather than merely attending as spectators, the community becomes an active participant: “People already know when it is; they don’t even ask anymore –they just show up with a small bouquet of flowers, a candle, fruit, or even a kilo of vegetables for the soup.”

The masterfully designed altar serves both festivities. “We make one, but it also serves as decoration for both,” explained Rolando, describing a symbolic overlap where the Cross is moved aside to make way for San Juan. This is the moment when devotion becomes tangible.

One of the most tense and beautiful moments of the night is the ritual procession. When San Juan arrives, the Cross, guarded by its devotees, seems to resist the change. “That encounter there, that clash, there comes a moment when San Juan announces that he’s going to come out, and the Cross doesn’t want him to,” Rolando tells us with the intensity of someone who has deeply witnessed that “struggle.”

To manage this tension, Rolando delegates to a decimista [poet], who acts as a mediator. He not only sings but also has the authority to say “He said it right!” at the precise moment when the euphoria outside the house reaches its climax. It’s a necessary exercise in control: “I have to do it this way because otherwise the whole thing turns into a conflict.” As the sirens* and golpes de tambor** intertwine, the cross at the altar gives way to the triumphal entry of San Juan, closing one portal to open another.

Rolando Canónico narrates the intensity of this coming together:

That encounter there, that clash, there comes a moment when San Juan announces that he’s coming out, and the Cross doesn’t want him to. So the devotees of the Cross hold their ground. It’s something beautiful, truly beautiful. Right there in that moment, with San Juan already coming down the stairs and the fulía [traditional rhythm] playing at the altar, the devotees form a circle so the fulía doesn’t stop. In the end it’s not a struggle but a meeting. The meeting where San Juan rises as he descends the stairs, already looking toward the Cross, and he’s trying to leave the house to welcome those who are coming. It’s as if he’s saying, “I’m letting you know that I’m on my way here.”

Regarding the energy that is unleashed when the festival reaches its peak with the arrival of the San Juan statues, Canónico adds: “That’s the moment when the altar of the Cross begins to be dismantled, when all the crosses are removed to make way for San Juan.” “That clash there between the Cross and San Juan gives you a powerful feeling,” he continued. “And when the three San Juan statues meet in front of the house, I can’t even describe it…”

Responsibility toward our ancestors and their legacy

If there is something Rolando Canónico is known for, it is his intransigence toward shoddy work. In a world where the commodification of traditional music threatens to sever it from its roots, he stands as a bulwark.

“In my house, I don’t accept things done poorly.” For him, the drum is not an instrument for competition or for displaying empty virtuosity. “I’m not putting on a show. I’m fulfilling a family promise,” he emphatically clarifies. His authority within the festival doesn’t stem from arrogance, but from a deep understanding of and respect for the musical codes, styles, discipline, and rigor that his teachers instilled in him.

This rigor extends to his training of new generations. Rolando is fully aware of his role as a guide and seeks to prepare his nephew and other young people so that the tradition is not diluted by stage “improvisations.” It is a pedagogy by example: he inaugurates each drum, ensuring that the rhythmic foundation is consistent with what has been passed down for centuries.

Finally, the conversation heads into more intimate territory: the relationship between the musician-artist and the divine. When asked if he experiences an altered state of consciousness while playing, Rolando responds with overwhelming sincerity. “I am a devotee of San Juan the Baptist; I am a santero… my spirituality is deeply connected to the drum.”

For Canónico, there is no separation between the musician who reads the score and the practitioner who offers his prayer through the drum’s vibrations. “That’s the best spiritual cleansing there can be here –playing the drum the right way,” he affirms. “I say ‘the right way’ because with the drum, you have to communicate with it.”

This dialogue, this meeting between the sacred and the profane, is what makes the festival in La Pastora, in Rolando’s own words, a “formidable experience.” By the end of our interview, it’s clear that his work is not merely a tribute to the past, but a strategy for cultural re-existence. As our interviewee aptly summarized at the end of our meeting, the true responsibility of a cultural artist is to ensure that, when San Juan arrives at his doorstep, the drum sounds exactly as it should: with the truth of the ancestors and the strength of a future that, thanks to people like him, is guaranteed a place in Venezuela’s collective memory.

Notes

*Sirenas are a cappella songs with an octosyllabic quatrain meter used to express devotion to both the Cross and San Juan.

**Golpes de tambor refers to multiple rhythms where drums, usually in sets of three, are the main protagonists. From a melody standpoint, singers take turns between solos and choruses.

See below for more details on the festivities and the surrounding music.

Fabiola José is a Venezuelan singer. She has performed in countries across South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. Her singles and albums are available on all digital platforms. She hosted and produced “Cantante y Sonante” for Radio Nacional de Venezuela. In 2018–2019, she created a series of videos for social media, published on her YouTube channel #HechoEnCasa. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Music from IUDEM, Caracas (2005); specialized under Maestro Tom Krause in Spain (2007); and an M.A. in Arts and Cultures of the South from UNEARTE, Venezuela (2020).

Fidel Barbarito is a Venezuelan musician and researcher, with a bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music and history, respectively. He teaches in the undergraduate and graduate programs at the National Experimental University of the Arts (UNEARTE). Together with Fabiola José, he promotes several musical projects aimed at disseminating traditional folk repertoires, integrating them with contemporary compositions inspired by these sounds. Joropo llanero. Parranda de reexistencia is one of his published essays.

The views expressed in this article are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Venezuelanalysis editorial staff.

The Sounds of Celebration

To gain a deeper understanding of the rich soundscape that defines the festivities at the Canónico family home, we break down how the musical universe of these celebrations is organized. It is not merely a decorative sideshow, but rather the ritual language through which faith is expressed.

The music in the Cruz de Mayo wake: a devotional geography (drop-downs with more info)

The Cruz de Mayo ceremony, which precedes the arrival of San Juan, features a structure that honors various regions of Venezuela. Canónico explains that this part of the festival requires specific discipline and respect for the different genres according to their geographic origin.

The order of the genres

Devotional music follows a set pattern that begins with the “Salve Llanera.” Afterward, songs representative of various regions are performed: Lara, Oriente, Falcón, and finally Zulia.

The poet and the sirenas

The mediator plays a crucial role. He recites poetry (“décimas”) and also has the authority to sing sirenas. This person is responsible for maintaining the choir and the performance during the most intense moment, when the altar of the Cruz is being prepared for the transition.

Interpretive rigor

There is a strict hierarchy. Although the community is invited to participate, the singers are committed to specific roles. For example, those responsible for the salve must perform it with the rigor that tradition demands, avoiding any “improvisation” or inappropriate mixing with other genres.

Music for San Juan Bautista: the strength of the drum (drop-downs with more info)

Once the ritual procession takes place and San Juan enters the house, the soundscape changes radically. Canónico explains that, unlike the Cruz, San Juan marks the beginning of a sequence in which the drum takes center stage.

Performance spaces

There is a geographical distinction within the house. The genres permitted to be performed inside the home, directly in front of the altar, are limited and sacred: sirenas, culo e’ puya, quitiplás, and San Juan de Guatire. All other musical performances take place outside the house.

The main reference

Rolando Canónico, as the host and a cultural leader, inaugurates each drum. He performs the Afro-Venezuelan section—specifically the Miranda fulía—alongside his nephew and his godson, ensuring that the rhythmic pattern remains true to tradition and does not veer toward competitive or show-oriented styles.

Ethical guidelines

At the Canónico household, a clear policy has been upheld: to play not for the sake of competition or virtuosity, but out of devotion, tradition, and beauty.

Talking to the instruments

For Canónico, playing the drum is not a technical performance, but a dialogue. He asserts that, in this context, the saint dwells within the drum and that playing it is a form of spiritual cleansing. When the instruments sound, the performer seeks to “detach” himself from rigid patterns in order to let a powerful energy flow, especially when several San Juan statues gather in front of the house.

This musical framework is, in Canónico’s words, a “system” in which every drumbeat and every décima has a specific place and time to ensure that the legacy of the ancestors remains alive without being corrupted by trends or commodification.

Rolando Canónico is a prominent Venezuelan percussionist, educator, and cultural practitioner, recognized as a key figure in the preservation of traditional community music and Afro-Venezuelan percussion. Initially trained at the Bigott Foundation’s Popular Culture Workshops, he has built a prolific musical career by joining iconic groups such as Francisco Pacheco y su Pueblo, Pomarrosa, and Caracas Sincrónica, as well as accompanying important Venezuelan artists, including Cecilia Todd, Cheo Hurtado, Betsayda Machado, Fabiola José, and Luisana Pérez, on recordings and on stage.

Beyond his virtuosity as a session musician, Canónico stands as an active guardian of Venezuela’s musical tradition, demonstrating a deep ethical and spiritual commitment to organizing community festivals, ensuring that historical accuracy and the identity of the ancestors remain alive for future generations.

COLUMBIA, S.C. — Sen. Darline Graham (R-S.C.) has privately expressed interest in running for a full U.S. Senate term after getting appointed as a temporary replacement for her late brother, Lindsey Graham, according to three people familiar with the deliberations.

The people, who were not authorized to speak publicly, said she has started having conversations about a potential campaign.

Plans for Lindsey Graham’s funeral were also announced Friday. There will be a service in Washington on July 28 and more in South Carolina on July 29.

Darline Graham’s eventual decision could dramatically shake up the scramble to fill her late brother’s seat after he died last weekend. The filing period for a special primary runs from July 21-28, and the primary is scheduled for Aug. 11.

Several other noteworthy politicians — including Reps. Russell Fry, Nancy Mace and Ralph Norman, as well as Lt. Gov. Pamela Evette — have been eyeing a run.

Darline Graham’s conversations were first reported by Semafor.

South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster appointed Darline Graham to serve the remainder of her brother’s term, which ends in January.

The first woman to represent the state in the Senate, Darline Graham called it “such an honor,” as dozens of her brother’s staffers and campaign advisors stood behind her, some with eyes glassy from welling tears.

“Lindsey has always been there for me. And now, I will be there for him,” she said.

Lindsey Graham died on Saturday at age 71. A preliminary report from the medical examiner said he suffered a tear in his aorta.

He never married or had a family of his own, but his sister was often by his side for the political touch points of his career, speaking at events and appearing in some of his campaign ads.

In his announcement on Monday, McMaster made no reference to her as a placeholder or symbolic appointment.

However, a person familiar with McMaster’s thinking but unauthorized to speak publicly said the governor, in selecting Darline Graham, had never contemplated that she would run for the seat herself.

Sen. Tim Scott, another South Carolina Republican, said he would not endorse any candidate in the primary because he also serves as chairman of the National Republican Senatorial Committee.

But, he said, “as Tim Scott, the voter of South Carolina, I might indeed wade into the water at some point.”

“I think the truth of the matter is that Darline has so far been off to a remarkable start,” Scott told reporters, asking about her as a possible special primary contender. “ ‘Why not her?’ would be my question.”

When he died, Lindsey Graham had millions in his campaign account and was expected to raise much more heading into the general election. But those aren’t funds that Darline Graham could directly access, if she were to run, according to Bradley A. Smith, a former chairman of the Federal Election Commission.

Under federal rules, Lindsey Graham’s campaign would be limited to transferring just $2,000 to a potential Darline Graham candidacy. However, Smith said there is no limit on how much it could transfer to the National Republican Senatorial Committee, which could — thanks to a Supreme Court decision last month — “spend an unlimited amount in coordination with Darline’s campaign.”

“It can’t be earmarked for Darline’s campaign, but in those circumstances I’m sure that the party will make sure she’s not short of cash,” said Smith, now serving as a professor at Capital University Law School in Ohio.

Kinnard and Kim write for the Associated Press. Kim reported from Washington.

Mothers and daughters are often caught in a double bind: biologically kindred yet divided by competing claims on identity and selfhood. In Cay Kim’s debut novel “The Future Perfect”, that bond is tangled by cultural discontinuity.

The novel’s mother has been reared in a South Korean household that places a high value on academic rigor and head-down discipline. She devotes all of her energy to grinding that work ethic into her daughter (Kim’s characters are unnamed), who is shuttled between her native Seoul and Minnesota, and grapples with finding the one true way for her to navigate the world.

I spoke with Kay, a native of Seoul who relocated to the States, about mothers, daughters and the unstoppable power of language.

✍️ Author Chat

Author Cay Kim

(Margaryta Bushkin)

This is your first novel. Did you start writing it in college?

This actually originated from a long poem that I wrote. I didn’t know I was going to turn it into a novel at the time. I just had the idea, the summer before my MFA, to expand each stanza into a chapter. That made the writing process relatively easier for me because it was such a straightforward process. I already had the frame of it.

Even though the novel is grounded in a very specific milieu — that of a child who is ensnared between Korean and American cultures — it’s very much a universal story, of a mother who feels the burden of raising a perfect daughter and is resentful when the daughter rebels against her ministrations.

It’s something that occupies so much of my head space. I wanted the mother to be portrayed as a victim of her society. The way that people choose to parent isn’t something that they learn in a vacuum. She has deep-seated beliefs about suffering and self-abnegation. But there’s a point at which an act of service risks inverting into a selfish act.

A big concept for the mother is endurance.

Exactly. It’s a generational trauma the mother is dealing with. She has had such ingrained beliefs passed down to her, and she’s unable to recognize when her methods result in her own mental and physical splintering, as well as her daughter’s.

Is it a function of the mother’s ego, or some kind of twisted narcissism?

She is putting herself through so much suffering because she believes she is doing the right thing. And there’s an extent to how much you can excuse that self-unawareness.

Yet despite this, the daughter feels tied to her mother, even when they are at loggerheads and she is living thousands of miles away.

The mother is such an integral part of the daughter’s consciousness that severance is impossible. They have a shared history and the daughter wants to share things with her mother, even when they are fighting. When she feels lonely at Stanford, the daughter verbalizes the fact that she has learned loneliness from her mother.

There are a lot of scenes in the novel tied to meals prepared by either the mother or the grandmother.

I do a lot of thinking about how cooking plays a role in our everyday lives. It’s something that people can spend hours preparing, only to have it disappear. It’s her mother’s domain. It is so opposed to the way the father thinks, which is very much tied to capital, to amassing and saving money.

The daughter really comes into herself when she is exposed to American culture.

Minnesota is where she acquires language for the first time. Language is so important to this character. Then she is shuffled back to Korea, and this disjunction is the thing that propels her narrative development. But as the story goes on, the daughter reaches a point where she has such mastery of expression and that is a power she acquires.

“The Future Perfect” is written in a very precise and concise way. What fiction writers do you admire, or who may have served as models?

I love writers whose use of language jolts the mind. My favorite writer of all time is Marguerite Duras. “The Lover” reads so easy but when you pay attention to the language, it’s very precisely engineered. I also love Clarice Lispector, for the way she expresses human spirituality.

Is this book drawn from your life? I ask that only because your protagonist winds up attending Stanford, as you did.

When I first started learning how to write, my teacher always used to say that writing shouldn’t necessarily contain the factual truth, but it should have emotional truth. And I feel like that has been the core of my writing practice throughout my life, and that even for those that don’t think consciously about it, that’s often the case.

This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Country music performer Kenny Chesney sat down with Holly Gleason, the co-author of his new memoir, to talk about writing the book.

(Jill Trunnell)

The state of Ohio is celebrating America’ssemiquincentennial by offering a statewide reading project that features Toni Morrison’s fictional oeuvre, thus providing a vivid alternative history of the country. “Not only does her work re-center African Americans in the story of our country, it also tackles major events from our founding, through slavery, to the impact of Jim Crow, to the great migration and beyond,” Literary Cleveland Executive Director Matt Weinkam tells Leigh Haber.

Chef-Podcaster-Author etc. Eddie Huang has written his first novel, a lightly autobiographical twirl through the foodie-verse called “Come Undone.“ “This book was very much about breaking up with your family to start your own,” he tells Mariella Rudi.

At a time when teen literacy is declining, Rudi polled five high school teachers to find out what books students should be reading now.

Gabrielle Korn’s novel “Long Island Girls” is a Millennial coming-of-age story that drips with Y2K nostalgia and the ways in which youthful optimism and hope can drift into middle-aged cynicism. “One thing I wanted to capture about early adulthood is the constant humiliation,” Korn tells Emily St. Martin. “The thing about being young is that people are so resentful of your youth, but you don’t understand that it’s resentment, you just think everybody hates you.”

📖 Bookstore Faves

The Loved Ones bookshop

(James Alan Duran)

J.C. Gabel, the owner of local book imprint Hat and Beard, has opened a new bookshop called The Loved One, and it already feels like an essential anchor for Historic Filipinotown’s burgeoning cultural scene. The store, which is also a gallery and events space, is expansive (5,000 square feet) and inviting, with patinated hardwood floors and a wall of picture windows that bathes the interior in natural light. I spoke with Gabel about his future plans for his new space.

What is the mission statement of The Loved One?

The Loved One reflects our ongoing commitment to independent publishing, original exhibitions, and the belief that books (and ideas within them) are best experienced in conversation with one another, in-person, whenever possible. In our post-post digital age, the serendipitous nature of organically curating physical objects is, in a sense, the point of the entire operation. We envision The Loved One as a space where everyone can exchange ideas, free from data-mining tech overlords, AI slop and click-bait tomfoolery.

What kind of books are you selling?

We’re going to focus mostly on new books about the visual arts, but we’ll also have several curated tables of fiction and nonfiction organized by subject and publisher, to highlight and promote the work of publishers we admire. Moreover, our genre-based book clubs and live author events — which will run weekly by August — will also influence the titles carried in the shop, too. Lastly, we’re bringing back Big Table, our books and conversation podcast — which we started with Dub Lab during COVID — now that we have a physical space to host and record these conversations.

It’s a very large space. What are your plans for it?

We are really keeping the space as modular as possible so we can change the interior of both storefronts to exhibit art and photography, as well as host author events, artist talks, live music, comedy, book clubs, etc.

You’re also a publisher, with Hat and Beard. How will that tie into The Loved One?

At least half of the arts programming I bring to the table will tie back to Hat and Beard’s original publications; the other half will be curated by Aubrie Wienholt and her team, working in tandem with myself and the H&B family. H&B will, of course, continue to program events all over the city regularly, but it will be nice to have a storefront again for the publishing house. We also intend to sell our rare and limited edition bundles of our books at TLO. There will finally be a physical space where one can come see this work in person before purchasing.

What about Historic Filipinotown? The Loved One is such a cool addition to what is becoming a vital cultural hub for L.A.

We are honored and thrilled to be working out of Historic Filipinotown. So much has opened in and around this neighborhood since COVID. It is a really vibrant community. There is a great camaraderie among all the small businesses in and around our cluster off Temple Street and Glendale Boulevard. Our immediate neighbors, Couplet Coffee and the bar 1642, are both actively involved in our programming monthly: Couplet has sent over a pop-up barista to serve coffee and tea at our literary events, and most of our after-parties are now held at 1642, two doors down.

Can you tell the story of America in 10 movies? Maybe so — at least a version of it — if you stick to moments of serious national friction and those rare instances when a filmmaker meets the mood with a true vision. If you want tearjerkers about red, white and blue triumph, this is not your list (although the Space Race drama “The Right Stuff” always does the trick). Meanwhile, our current state of disunity and division will find its own expressions in time; start with “Civil War,” though it’s a bit too soon. Instead, we thought about historical pivot points and built a list of classics, along with a few alternatives for each title.

The Great Depression

Henry Fonda, left, in the 1940 film “The Grapes of Wrath,” directed by John Ford.

(20th Century-Fox)

‘The Grapes of Wrath’ (1940)

America is a broken place in John Ford’s poetically charged adaptation of the Steinbeck novel: a downbeat landscape of Oklahoma dust storms, long shadows and the teetering sight of a car turned into a truck transporting a family westward. This will always be one of those essential movies about a particular national dream — not just a myth — of emerging from economic catastrophe and being reborn in the promised land of California. Ford, with the instincts of a showman, foregrounded hope on the horizon via inspired performances by Henry Fonda and Jane Darwell’s pragmatic Ma Joad getting the final word (“We keep a’coming…”). But there is still so much darkness in “The Grapes of Wrath,” especially in its scenes of John Qualen’s Muley Graves, crumpled on the ground, suddenly a squatter on his own piece of land. He’s no match for the bulldozers. As long as the idea remains that property gets its purpose from those tending it, working it, nourishing it and dying on it, the film will never become a relic. Its binding values of labor and community remain relevant, even if today’s Hollywood rarely speaks to them. — Joshua Rothkopf

See also: “Modern Times,” “Sullivan’s Travels,” “Bonnie and Clyde”

Postwar optimism

Michael Hall, from left, Teresa Wright, Myrna Loy and Fredric March in the 1946 movie “The Best Years of Our Lives.”

(Samuel Goldwyn Productions)

‘The Best Years of Our Lives’ (1946)

World War II ended with ticker-tape parades and soaring expectations. William Wyler’s sweeping drama arrived just as America was beginning to reckon with what coming home actually meant. Harold Russell, a real-life veteran who lost both hands during the war, plays a sailor struggling to imagine a future with the woman he loves. Dana Andrews is a decorated bombardier who returns to the same soda fountain job he held before the war, discovering that military heroism doesn’t necessarily translate into peacetime opportunity. The movie became one of the biggest hits of 1946 because it understood a challenge facing millions of Americans: The war had given the country a common purpose but peace meant each person had to find their own. Yet for all its honesty about that dislocation, the film remains remarkably hopeful. Its faith that people can rebuild their lives and start over feels almost radical today. Seen from the distance of eight decades, it feels like a dispatch from a country that had just survived a catastrophe and still believed its best days lay ahead. — Josh Rottenberg

See also: “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Miracle on 34th Street,” “Giant”

Capitalism, unchecked

Daniel Day-Lewis in the 2007 movie “There Will Be Blood,” directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.

(Paramount Vantage)

‘There Will Be Blood’ (2007)

“I drink your milkshake — I drink it up!” Oil man Daniel Plainview’s deranged metaphor, allegedly taken from congressional transcripts from the 1920s Teapot Dome scandal in which Interior Secretary Albert Fall defended the practice of directional oil drilling, a.k.a. drainage, became a catchphrase when “There Will Be Blood” arrived in 2007. Elon Musk probably has a T-shirt in the back of a drawer emblazoned with the line. It epitomizes the American ethos of extracting resources that belong to someone else and then brutally bragging about the beatdown. Paul Thomas Anderson’s movie is part history lesson, part horror film, which, when it comes to chronicling the American experience, feels like the perfect blend. The oil man’s exploits take place more than a century ago, but seem particularly relevant now with Musk newly minted as the world’s first trillionaire and income inequality rapidly widening. Plainview confesses, “I have a competition in me. I want no one else to succeed.” It neatly sums up the endgame in which we find ourselves — and his vanquishing of the preacher Eli speaks to what we worship in the United States. He’s finished and sometimes it feels like we are too. — Glenn Whipp

See also: “The Wolf of Wall Street,” “WALL-E,” “Sorry to Bother You”

Post-Vietnam/Watergate cynicism

‘Nashville’ (1975)

Ronee Blakley in the 1975 movie “Nashville,” directed by Robert Altman.

(Paramount Pictures)

Could one movie capture the breadth of emotions around this year’s 250th anniversary celebrations as well as Robert Altman did the bicentennial? As the country was still reeling from the assassinations and discord of the 1960s, the despair of Vietnam and the scandals of Nixon and Watergate, there was a soul-baring uncertainty to what it even meant to be an American. With 24 main characters interwoven around the town of Nashville, home of country music and intersecting political undercurrents, the film tries to make sense of the chaos. While the conspiracy thrillers of the 1970s are seen as the most direct response to the moral malaise of the moment, Altman finds an unexpected way to gild his innate skepticism with a light filigree of hope, a complex quilt of characters capturing the contradictions inherent in the American identity. And yet as cynical and beaten-down as the film’s viewpoint can often be, there is still a spark of decency and perseverance. That is the America that Altman celebrates, even as he lets no one off the hook. Few films capture the hum of life in all its maddening beauty quite like this one. — Mark Olsen

See also: “Blow Out,” “The Conversation,” “The Parallax View”

‘Network’ (1976)

Robert Duvall, Faye Dunaway and William Holden in the 1976 movie “Network,” directed by Sidney Lumet.

(MGM Studios / Getty Images)

Much has been made over the years about how prescient this film was, as if screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky and director Sidney Lumet saw the constrictive dangers of corporate consolidation in the distance and came back to warn us. But if these rumbling premonitions have remained true across multiple eras of an ever-evolving media landscape, have we really learned anything? Perhaps we really do live in a “demented slaughterhouse of a world,” as the unhinged newsman Howard Beale says in one of his apocalyptic broadcasts, and have all along. Maybe what “Network” nails most of all is apathy: that even the most righteously committed can have their heads turned from their true goals and then struggle to get back on track. What may be most shocking rewatching the film today is the suspicion that some current media figures see the maneuverings of villainous executives played by Robert Duvall and Faye Dunaway and somehow think that they were the heroes of the story all along. Not even Lumet or Chayefsky would have predicted that. — Mark Olsen

See also: “Broadcast News,” “The Insider,” “Nightcrawler”

Gentrification and racial tensions

Spike Lee, left, and Danny Aiello in the 1989 movie “Do the Right Thing.”

(Universal Pictures)

‘Do the Right Thing’ (1989)

Spike Lee’s masterpiece was met with hand-wringing when it arrived in theaters 37 summers ago, with white critics fretting how “urban audiences” would react to its shocking ending of brutality and angry protest. “If some audiences go wild, [Lee] is partly responsible,” critic David Denby wrote in New York Magazine. Nobody rioted. “Do the Right Thing” made some people uncomfortable because it told truths from a Black perspective that they did not want to accept. That unwillingness to have hard conversations and learn from them remains evident today as we prepare to celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday without an honest reckoning of the anguish that lies beneath the storybook version of America’s founding. The paradox is that Lee’s movie is itself that conversation, its characters engaging in a series of arguments, evenhanded and empathetic, about how race affects the lives we lead in America. Until our country engages in that dialogue, nothing will change. For a moment, the Black Lives Matter movement signaled a willingness to grapple with the past. But the pendulum swung and we’re back to days of “Driving Miss Daisy” denial. But “Do the Right Thing” remains with us, its urgency and relevance undiminished, waiting for an America open to listen and live up to its idealized aspirations. — Glenn Whipp

See also: “Get Out,” “12 Years a Slave,” “Fruitvale Station”

The rise of the yuppies

Roddy Piper, left, and Keith David in the 1988 movie “They Live,” directed by John Carpenter.

(Universal Pictures)

‘They Live’ (1988)

“I believe in America,” the guy says, but we’re not in the private office of some all-powerful Corleone. Rather, this is a working man in a plaid shirt and denim. As the sun sets on his sad L.A. tent city (inspired by the real-life Justiceville), he only wants what everyone else wants: a hard day’s work for fair pay and the chance to get ahead. “It’ll come,” he says, serenely. He doesn’t know he’s in a John Carpenter movie — Roddy Piper was never put to better on-screen use — and that those keeping him down are, in fact, aliens hypnotizing us into an unseeing stupor as they carve up the world’s resources. Released at the tail end of Reaganomics, Carpenter’s most politically forward thriller now feels like a decoder ring for ’80s-era greed, detachment, complacency and ruthlessness. Carpenter meant us to to see his bug-eyed space invaders as yuppies. He also intended us to question whether we were selling each other out, just to join the “human power elite” for a tiny piece of pie. “They Live” looms just on the other side of appreciated. Many genre films say what our more prestigious dramas can’t about the creeping forces that are changing America; this one still feels like it’s getting away with murder. — Joshua Rothkopf

See also: “American Psycho,” “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” “After Hours”

’80s women in the workplace

Harrison Ford, left, Melanie Griffith and Sigourney Weaver in the 1988 movie “Working Girl.”

(20th Century Fox)

‘Working Girl’ (1988)

Mike Nichols’ zeitgeisty hit opens on a shot of the Statue of Liberty hoisting her torch like a paycheck. Down by her green toes, Melanie Griffith’s Staten Island secretary Tess McGill ferries to Manhattan to type memos for important men. Tess has a job, not a career. But 1988 was the first year that female undergraduates outnumbered men on college campuses. Even without a degree, Tess is ambitious to climb the corporate ladder — once she swaps out her practical white sneakers for a pair of pumps. The script by Kevin Wade throws up hurdles of sexism and class snobbery, never sugarcoating how Tess’ male co-workers treat her like a blow-up doll. (Critics dismissed Griffith, too, until this performance earned her an Oscar nomination.) Yet note how her Ivy League-educated boss Katharine (Sigourney Weaver) isn’t immune to harassment either; she’s just mastered how to parry her colleagues’ advances. Fantastic as it is, “Working Girl’s” core flaw is that Tess can’t snag her seat at the conference table until she yanks Katharine out of it. Weaver said that when she showed the script to real-life working girls on Wall Street, they asked, “This awful secretary steals your man, wears your clothes, takes your office — who’s going to sympathize with her?” Millions did and still do. — Amy Nicholson

See also: “9 to 5,” “Baby Boom,” “Silkwood”

Digital alienation

Justin Timberlake, left, and Jesse Eisenberg in the 2010 movie “The Social Network,” directed by David Fincher.

(Merrick Morton / Columbia TriStar )

‘The Social Network’ (2010)

In 2010, Apple introduced the iPad, Instagram launched its app and Silicon Valley still looked to many tech-besotted Americans like a force for progress. At a moment when technology companies were promising to bring people closer together, David Fincher’s acerbic drama about the founding of Facebook had a darker theory about why people wanted to connect in the first place. Aaron Sorkin’s screenplay traces Facebook’s creation back to a very old human desire: getting noticed by the people who matter. Instead of celebrating innovation, the movie unfolds through lawsuits and broken friendships. At Harvard, Jesse Eisenberg’s Mark Zuckerberg fixates on the exclusive final clubs that won’t quite accept him. It’s a surprisingly sour approach for a Facebook origin story. Years before social media became a political battleground, Fincher was focused on something more basic — the fear that everyone else had been invited to a party you couldn’t get into. The movie ends with Zuckerberg alone at a computer, refreshing the Facebook page of the woman who dumped him and waiting for her to accept his friend request. More than 15 years later, it’s still hard to think of a better image for the loneliness and insecurity lurking beneath our connected lives. — Josh Rottenberg

See also: “Her,” “Eighth Grade,” “Ingrid Goes West”

Post-9/11 anxieties

A scene from the 2004 movie “Team America: World Police,” directed by Trey Parker.

(Melinda Sue Gordon / Paramount Pictures)

‘Team America: World Police’ (2004)

To add drama to the ennui over the 2000 U.S. presidential campaign, “South Park” creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone pledged to immediately produce a silly sitcom about the winner. “That’s My Bush!” ran for eight episodes in the spring of 2001, with plans to spin off into a feature called “George W. Bush and the Secret of the Glass Tiger.” But the Sept. 11 attacks changed everything, including the work of satirists. Parker and Stone pivoted to “Team America: World Police,” a bomb-throwing comedy about our country’s napalm-strength combination of naiveté and swagger. To prevent an attack hailed as “9/11 times a thousand,” a squadron of puppet commandos blows up the planet themselves. The dark joke is these marionettes aren’t behaving much differently than the action heroes who have shaped the national id — it’s a through-the-looking-glass lens into our Hollywoodized view of the globe, down to the Parisian streets made of cobblestone croissants. At once straight-faced, sacrilegious and scatological, “Team America” needed nine tries to eke past the MPAA. Yet in divided times, it was a unifier. The political spectrum from Kim Jong Il to Alec Baldwin got equally savaged and the film’s eff-yeah patriotic theme song (“Rock and roll! The internet! Slavery!”) could even be heard blaring from real-life tanks in Fallujah. — Amy Nicholson

See also: “Eddington,” “Idiocracy,” “Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay”

We made it. With just days left in Phase I voting, this week marks the last issue of The Envelope, and the last edition of this letter from the editor, until we return with a crop of newly minted Emmy nominees in August.

Until then, may you have a summer as magical as a German soccer fan’s road trip through the American South — and enjoy reading the below highlights from our coverage.

Cover story: ‘Industry’

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

How do “Industry” stars Myha’la and Marisa Abela want the series to end? Let’s just say they are as unsentimental about their characters as series creators Mickey Down and Konrad Kay.

“I want there to be a huge statue of Harper Stern in front of J.P. Morgan,” Myha’la says of her hard-charging trader. “And a bird s— on her arm.”

“In her mouth,” interjects Abela, who plays Harper’s No. 1 frenemy Yasmin Kara-Hanani.

After the laughter ringing through the room subsides, though, Abela does allow for a moment of reverence — for the HBO drama if not for the disreputable people who populate it. “I don’t know if I need Yasmin to be happy at the end of it,” the actor says, reflecting on her character’s emergence as a Ghislaine Maxwell type in the Season 4 finale. “I know I want it to feel worthy of everything that has come before… What I love about the show is that [the writers] don’t often backtrack. You commit to something and then you have to live with the f— fallout. Which is savage.”

Read more of our conversation in this week’s cover story.

Writers Roundtable

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Though he joined The Envelope’s 2026 Emmy Writers Roundtable to discuss the return of another beloved comedy, “The Comeback,” we couldn’t resist asking Michael Patrick King about the intense fan reactions to his “Sex and the City” revival “And Just Like That…”

“What happened was, it was really well made, but it wasn’t their Carrie,” he said. “Even though you stand behind it, you go, ‘Wow, that’s a surprise. I thought that they would be interested in 57-year-old women who still hadn’t figured everything out. And instead they wanted them to be 35 and still allowed to be lost.’”

For more juicy tidbits from the minds of of TV’s top writers, be sure to check out the full conversation, which also included Megan Gallagher (“All Her Fault”), Jonathan Glatzer (“The Audacity”), Andrew Guest (“Wonder Man”), Bruce Miller (“The Testaments”) and Sonja Warfield (“The Gilded Age”).

How Connor Hines won over Ryan Murphy

Writer Connor Hines, who translated the real-life relationship between JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette into FX’s major hit “Love Story.”

(Evan Mulling / For The Times)

While our On Writing series of screenwriter essays are always revealing — about the inspiration behind a series, the process of adaptation or the making of a major plot turn, to name just a few — I don’t remember one as candid about the art of the pitch as Connor Hines’. In this week’s issue, the writer behind “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette” explains how he prepared to present his vision for the new anthology’s first season to one of TV’s most powerful producers, Ryan Murphy. As it turns out, landing the meeting is not the (only) hard part.

“I spent roughly three months in the trenches with [producers] Brad [Simpson] and Nina [Jacobson], deepening and refining my presentation [to Murphy] — one that I’d recite in the shower, on runs, at Trader Joe’s, while I drove,” Hines writes. “It was a crash course in storytelling, producing, and understanding the alchemy that propelled so many of Ryan’s shows into the zeitgeist.”

More stories from our June 16 issue

For 45 years, in his novels, short stories and essays, James Ellroy has been creating the definitive under-history of his Los Angeles hometown, mapping in his work the subterranean currents of power, corruption, sex and lies that have shaped the polity of the city. Ellroy’s latest is another compelling entry in his ongoing project.

“Red Sheet” is a multilayered American epic that blurs fact and fiction, a deep dive into anti-Communist paranoia, from the corridors of City Hall to the dank precincts of the LAPD. The novel also marks the return of Fred Otash, a real-life Hollywood fixer whom the author has featured in previous novels, including his last book, “The Enchanters.” I recently talked to Ellroy about Otash, L.A. in the ‘60s and L.A. today.

✍️ Author Chat

Freddie Otash has been something of a twisted muse for you. In “Red Sheet,” Otash is an LAPD detective trying to smoke out Communist sleeper cells in Kennedy-era L.A. He was, in fact, a real person, a notorious Hollywood fixer. How did you first become aware of him?

I had seen a documentary about his specious role in the cover-up caper surrounding Marilyn Monroe’s death. I’d been hearing about him for years, and then I created the Jack Vincennes character who worked for scandal magazines in my book “L.A. Confidential,” played by the scurrilous Kevin Spacey in the vastly overrated movie of the same name.

Did you ever meet him?

Years ago I met a producer named James B. Harris, who produced all the old Stanley Kubrick movies and had optioned one of my early books called “Blood on the Moon.” I asked him if he knew Freddie Otash, and he said everyone in Hollywood knew Freddie Otash. I was planning my novel “American Tabloid” and so I arranged to meet him. He was unpleasant and charmless and way past his prime. I spent some time with him in Miami, where he was living in a place called the Jockey Club, and I had to listen to him talk about his many conquests of the world’s most beautiful and desirable women. I didn’t believe a word of it.

But he did have useful stories, I’m assuming.

Otash I used for the character Pete Bondurant in “American Tabloid.” We entered into a deal whereby I would pay him 10% of what Knopf was paying me in exchange for him keeping his mouth shut. He has become that valuable literary artifact: the great detective.

“Red Sheet: A Novel” by James Ellroy

(Knopf)

Your book deals with a piece of legislation called the Rumford Act that would tear down the city’s racist racial housing covenants in 1963, but the act in ’62 had enemies in high places, namely Mayor Sam Yorty and his power base. You were 14 in L.A. in 1962. Did you feel this racial tension?

I remember vividly how the world was changing. I knew there was de facto segregation in housing. I remember Nixon’s pathetic campaign for governor in 1962. But I remember racial barriers breaking down, particularly in school. Just talking with Black kids in school, because why wouldn’t you? And I had been this dumb, bigoted kid.

What’s interesting about the characters in your book is that their ideological alliances are quite fluid, depending on the circumstances. Communists are married to John Birchers, who may be, in fact, red-diaper babies, and so on.

People are endlessly complex. Going back to Freddie Otash again. He knew Tom Bradley in the ‘40s, when Bradley was a cop. And Freddie becomes a bag man for the civil rights movement, and the Rumford Act in particular. He’s about the most unlikely guy you would expect to support civil rights. I wanted to show [how] complex human beings and their beliefs can be, and this book is a primer on that.

You are so closely associated with Los Angeles, and you lived here for most of your life. Why do you live in Denver now?

Helen Knode is my all-time life partner, who is also my second ex-wife. Ten years ago, we decided to get back together, but she was living in Colorado. She came up with the idea of me getting a loft in her building, and we would have the keys to each other’s places, and that’s why I did it. I like it in Denver, though it’s quite hot at the moment.

Do you miss L.A? What are you feeling about the city now?

I was just there on my book tour. I feel like it’s a complete dump. It’s just totally run-down. When I got off the airplane, I noticed a smog layer, so smog is back. I saw many young, odd-looking, overly adorned young people. I don’t know. … It’s a kid’s town now, to a certain extent.

This Q&A was edited for length and clarity.

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Country music performer Kenny Chesney sat down with Holly Gleason, the co-author of his new memoir, to talk about writing the book.

(Jill Trunnell)

Greg Sarris is the chairman of the Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria in Sonoma County. He’s also an acclaimed novelist whose his first book in 28 years, “The Last Human Bear,” is loosely based on the life and teachings of Pomo spiritual leader Mabel McKay, a constant lodestar for Sarris. “An American Indian woman is as richly complicated as anybody else. I wanted to show this rich and complicated character who’s negotiated a history that she’s showing you,” Sarris tells Maddie Connors.

In “Daughters of the Sun and Moon,” author Lisa See excavates the events surrounding the Chinese Massacre of 1871. In doing so, she also digs into her own Chinese heritage in L.A. “My great-grandfather’s fourth wife was 16 when he brought her here, and she was never let out,” See tells Emily St. Martin. “My mom used to say these women would all get together, and she used to describe it as birds twittering together, because they actually had this opportunity to be with each other, but on really very rare occasions.”

Fear not, literary Cassandras: Authors can still generate online heat, thanks to BookTok and other social media outlets. So much so that more books are being adapted into streaming content than ever before. “With the advent of BookTok, it allows you to have so much social chatter around these authors,” producer Bryan Unkeless tells Gary Goldstein. “They’re becoming new rock stars, in a way.”

Finally, Kenny Chesney sat down with Holly Gleason to discuss their collaboration on “Heart Life Music,” Chesney’s new memoir. “I didn’t know if there was a story there,” the country megastar tells Gleason. “Over time you wore me down, to make me pause and … reflect.”

📖 Bookstore Faves

The interior of Counterpoint Records & Books.

(David Jones)

In a city that has so often seen its old-school retail businesses turned into nail salons and real estate offices, Counterpoint Records & Books remains an outlier. Originally established in 1979 by John and Susan Polifronio, the store on Franklin Avenue has remained, even as many of its nearby store-mates have shuttered, offering a well-curated selection of secondhand books and records from every conceivable genre. I chatted with David Jones, who is one of the owners of the Franklin Avenue store, about Counterpoint’s enduring success.

Counterpoint is an Eastside institution, but businesses along your strip on Franklin have gone under while you have survived. What is the secret to your longevity?

Firstly, we are lucky enough to own the building we do business in, which has given us a lot of freedom to be able to pursue doing business our way. That didn’t happen until we were in business for almost 20 years, but now in our 47th year we feel lucky to be able to continue to provide a physical, in-person shopping experience. I think our success is tied to this. People are looking for an experience away from their screens, and I think we provide that without being anachronistic or nostalgic by keeping up with and stocking contemporary music, digital media and all types of books.

Is your clientele mostly local? I’m guessing it’s a multigenerational clientele, given the store’s long history.

We definitely have a younger demographic these days, but we have a very intergenerational staff, and I think that attracts an all ages clientele. We meet folks daily from all over the world as a destination that people return to and tell their friends about. I think word-of-mouth is our greatest form of outreach. People say we feel special to them, as if they’ve stumbled onto a secret by shopping here. It’s something I love and am very proud of.

How have books maintained their staying power despite the countless distractions of daily life?

I think of it as one of life’s greatest luxuries. To be honest, I never thought too much about the staying power of books until the pandemic. During that time, people would come in and thank us for being open and a place they could come to escape what was happening. It was a real turning point for me. I started to think more about the importance of what we do and how much of an effect it has on people. I never took what we do for granted, but it gave me a sense of urgency that I didn’t quite have before.

Counterpoint Records & Books is at 5911 Franklin Ave. in Hollywood.

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

In this week’s episode of The Envelope podcast, Riz Ahmed talks about drawing on his own experience for “Bait,” his Prime Video series about a British Muslim actor whose life is upended when he’s rumored to be the next James Bond.

Kelvin Washington: Hello, everyone, and welcome to the next episode of The Envelope. Kelvin Washington, Yvonne Villarreal, we have Mark Olsen. And Mark, I’ll stay with you for a second. You had a chance to speak with Riz Ahmed, who is the creator and the star of “Bait,” which centers around the idea of who could be the next James Bond. So then, dang it, I’m asking you two the same question: Who could be, should be the next James Bond? Is there somebody or somebodies that you’ve thought about for a while and said, “Well, that would fit, that could work”?

Mark Olsen: It was recently announced that they have begun the casting process to replace Daniel Craig in the beloved and long-running James Bond franchise. And there have already been at least one sort of confirmed person, the actor Tom Francis, auditioned. But then there’s a lot of other names being thrown around, like Callum Turner, Jacob Elordi, Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Kind of everybody about that age bracket you could think of. You know, it’s funny, in the last movie, “No Time to Die,” Lashana Lynch was given the number 007, so she was not James Bond, but she was 007. And I always thought, actually, in the last couple of movies, that Léa Seydoux would make a perfect [00 agent] — she’s cool, she feels kind of dangerous. She would have seemed to me like a great person for that kind of role. But then also, that’s obviously not James Bond. So who knows who it could be. Yvonne, what do you think? Do you have anybody in mind?

Yvonne Villarreal: Can it be a toss-up between you two? How would you fare?

Olsen: I don’t know if I’d pass basic training.

Washington: They have doubles, OK? They got stunt doubles and CGI and AI for all of that and for you, OK.

Villarreal: It’d be like the Leslie Nielsen version.

Washington So it’d be like 007 with a question mark: 007?

Villarreal: More seriously — not that I don’t take you two seriously as candidates — I would throw my enthusiasm around Jonathan Bailey or Damson Idris.

Washington: I’m gonna one-up your Idris and just go [with] the obvious, Idris Elba. It’s been sitting there for the last 15 years or so.

Villarreal: That’s why I didn’t [say that], because I’m like, “It’s been sitting there and they still haven’t.”

Washington: But sometimes it just makes sense. Sometimes it’s just sitting smacking you in the face, or shooting you with a silent 9mm — whatever he uses, James Bond. It just makes sense, and to be honest, it’s one of those, he’s probably passing [on the role] because you wanna have a franchise you can hold on to for 20 years with a particular actor, give or take, and he seems like he’d be probably too senior for that at a certain point. The podcast, the conversation behind what really happened there is going to be fascinating because, to your point, it just seems like the momentum was building for it and it didn’t happen. So it would be interesting to hear what actually comes out of that. But those are my are my guesses right there.

All right, Mark, you had a chance to speak with Riz Ahmed, obviously the creator and the star of “Bait.” Fascinating to me, just the concept of the show as a whole.

Olsen: Riz Ahmed is someone who, he’s so thoughtful about his own career, but also his place in the world. And so he does such a great job with this show and taking this idea of like, “Could an actor like Riz Ahmed, could he be James Bond? Should he be James Bond? Why not?” And so the show is just so thoughtful and finds all these really inventive ways of exploring that idea. He’s playing a little-known actor who it becomes public that he’s auditioned for the role and that throws his whole life into tumult both within the industry, with sort of like online hate towards him, but then also with his own family. And the show is also meant to be kind of a real love letter to the South Asian communities of London. Riz in the conversation talks about how they went out of their way to shoot in parts of London that you don’t normally see. So the show, it’s just so inventive and fun in a lot of really terrific ways.

Washington: Well, let’s hear more of your conversation with Riz now.

Riz Ahmed.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Mark Olsen: On the show, you play an actor who auditions for the part of James Bond. It leaks to the press, and then his whole world turns upside down. For you, is the premise of the show predicated on the idea that someone like you would never get that part, or is it that, of course you should get that? Which end of the telescope are you looking at it from?

Riz Ahmed: Kind of neither, really. The premise of the show was something a bit more emotional than that. The James Bond thing came right at the end, to be honest, of the creative process. Really, the heart of the show is the idea of auditioning. James Bond really serves as a symbol in the show, a symbol of aspiration, pinnacle of achievement in this industry and also of alpha masculinity and all this kind of stuff. And so it’s really the idea of trying to be that guy, which on some level, we’re all trying to be this kind of preferred version of ourselves, right? We’re all performing. We’re actually all always auditioning. So it’s about that feeling, [which] I think extends outside this industry. We’re doing that on LinkedIn or social media, on this podcast right now. We’re performing a version of ourselves. When actually the true version of ourselves is kind of messy, chaotic and vulnerable. So it’s that distance between the public and private self that I was really interested in, and James Bond just served as an aspirational symbol of that public way that you would love to be seen.

Olsen: But Bond, because of the specific cultural baggage that comes with that franchise, did you feel like it fit thematically with what you were trying to do?

Ahmed: Oh, perfectly. It was a godsend. It was like one of those moments where it’s like, “OK, so we want to do something about, like, aspiring to be anything but yourself. We want to do something about feeling like life is one big audition, but we need something that encapsulates success and cultural acceptance.” And it was like … Of course: Bond. And because the process of making this show was one of pulling so much from my own personal life, there was a moment or two when my name was mentioned in that conversation. I mean, along with, you know, everyone and their dog. But it was an interesting kind of thought experiment, it was an interesting, as I said, kind of vessel to place all of the themes into. And so when that idea came about, it was like, “This is perfect. We can talk about everything we want to talk about using this symbol.” We’re like, “OK, now how are we gonna get it?” And everyone told us Barbara Broccoli would never let us use it. Rightly so, she was very protective of this IP. But I wrote her a letter, sat down with her, showed her the scripts and she understood. She understood that it’s not really about Bond. It’s a show about self-love, and she really kind of vibed with that. Shout out Barbara Broccoli, thank you for letting us use Bond exactly how we wanted to.

Olsen: You recently hosted the new “SNL UK” and in your monologue, you made this joke that you don’t just play intense roles, that there’s this image of you that it’s all that you do. Did you purposely want to make “Bait” as a way to break you out of that perception?

Ahmed: It wasn’t that careerist and calculating, to be honest. I was just trying to make something that was authentically me. And I think the people who know me know that I’m a lover of comedy. My first rap song was a comedy rap song. I got banned on British radio back in the day because it was a quite an acerbic kind of satire. And actually it’s funny because I think that’s an American perception of me. In the UK, nine times out of 10, when I get stopped is for a British comedy I did called “Four Lions.” Which is like a kind of cult classic British movie. It’s a very British comedy. That’s like me, that’s like how I am in real life. And so when I wanted to make my own show, it just stands to reason it would be a reflection of my taste. So the overall frame was comedy, but I kind of have quite a maximalist sensibility. I want to have my cake and eat it. So I also wanted it to be a spy thriller and a family drama and quite surreal and psychological thriller and all of these elements kind of put together, but the frame of it all, I would say, is comedy. And yet it was really actually important to us that we tried to defy genre and defy categorization in that way.

Olsen: Did you feel like this was a role that, like, nobody was going to give you, like you had to write this for yourself?

Ahmed: It wasn’t so much out of a kind of frustration or a desire to create work for myself or break out of a pigeonhole or anything like that. Honestly, I just tried to make something as honest and authentic and vulnerable as possible, if that doesn’t sound too eye-rolly. I guess I reached a point in my life as a creative where I realized, actually, performance isn’t about putting on the mask, it’s about taking it off. It’s about sharing with the world who you are, sharing your privacy and your insanity. And if you do that, people will connect with it because it’s honest. And if you name your pain and your craziness, there’s something healing in that for yourself and others. I had kind of gotten to that place in my life. And so I wanted to kind of follow that through to a place that felt quite scary and pull on the most personal aspects of my own neuroses and my life and my neighborhood that I grew up in — so many locations are literally where I’ve grown up. So many moments in the show I pulled very directly from my life experience. My character has a panic attack at the end of Episode 1 at this particular music venue in North London. I had a panic attack in that venue in North London when I was supporting Wu-Tang Clan. My character is approached by MI5 and MI6. They say, “Hey, you’re a rising actor, do you wanna work with us, help with messaging?” That happened to me specifically once I started to become a bit more well known. There’s just so many things that kind of came from that place, and it was all based on this idea of like, “If I wanna make a show about a character who needs to learn how to take off the mask, then I need to do that as well.” And we kind of had a mantra in the room, which was like, “If it feels scary and it’s true, do it.” And there were times when I didn’t want to do it, definitely times when I wanted to kind of hide, but I just increasingly have this feeling that if you can offer up a part of yourself, then that’s one of the most liberating things you can do as an artist. And also for an audience, it just feels honest. That’s where you can connect most with people, if you’re willing to share that vulnerability.

Olsen: What was the writing process of the show like for you? Was there a moment where you had like a whiteboard with a list of awkward things that had happened to you?

Ahmed: That whiteboard would be very, very big, very, very large. Let’s say we’ve got a lot left in the tank if we ever do another season. The writing process was a learning curve for me, never having been in an American writers’ room system before. Hugely grateful to my co-showrunner, Ben Karlin, who’s got himself a really eclectic background. He’s one of the founding writers of the Onion, the satirical website. He has this track record, “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart” and “The Colbert Report,” but also “Modern Family.” And so I wanted someone who had that eclectic background, and we had a writers’ room that was similarly very eclectic. We had stand-up comedians. We had novelists. We had playwrights. We had experienced TV writers. We had U.S. [people], we had UK people. I just knew that I wanted this to feel quite eclectic, and as I say, kind of genre-bending. And so I wanted that breadth. So actually the writing process for this was like, “How do we make this feel as chaotic and messy and unpredictable as possible?” That requires a crazy amount of craft. And there were a lot of late nights, there was a lot of hair being pulled out. And it was, I think, one of the most intense periods, more so than the shoot, even. It was just trying to figure out what this show was. And I came to this realization, which is, Shah Latif, my character, is having an identity crisis. He’s trying to work out who he is. So it stands to reason the show should also be trying to work out what it is. The show needs to be having an identity crisis. So then we gave up on this mission of trying to make it feel coherent and consistent. And we said, “Of course, he’s an actor trying to work out who he is. Every episode should be a different genre. We should have our James Bond-goes-to-the-gala-in-a-tux episode. We should to have our Bollywood-proper episode. We should have our Linklater walk and talk. We should have our Greengrass does a spy thriller.” So we really deliberately and really defiantly tried to embrace the identity crisis of the character in how we told the story. And when we did that, everything fell into place. We would stop trying to straitjacket this into something more predictable.

Olsen: And what was it like for you to be filling this role of not just actor but also writer, producer, showrunner? How did you feel about taking on all those roles?

Ahmed: I felt scared. I felt out of my depth. I felt like I needed the help of people much smarter than me. Luckily, I had that help. And more than that help, their patience. I continually said, “No, we’ve got to go back and do it again. We’ve got to rewrite that episode. We’ve gotta redo this whole section,” as it felt so personal to me. Not just because it’s my personal experiences, but because there’s a world that hasn’t quite been put on screen before in this show, and I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility and emotional connection to that world and these characters. So at times it felt overwhelming. ButI’m of this philosophy that usually when you’re making something, you kind of end up feeling how the character is feeling. The character feels out of his depth, feels overwhelmed, feels like he does not quite know what he’s doing, it stands to reason I should feel like that. If I really feel like I’ve got it all worked out and I’m in control, we’re doing something wrong. So as far as possible, I tried to remind myself that that was a sign of almost being in touch with the material. At least that’s how I tried to talk myself off the ledge, man.

Olsen: Can you just talk to me a little bit about the title? As I understand it, “Bait” is UK slang?

Ahmed: The title actually has many different layers to it. I always say this is a show that’s hard to sum up in a sentence, but it’s really easy to sum up in one word, and that word is bait, because it has like five or six different meanings. So one key meaning is British slang. It means really blatant and in your face. So if you’re blowing up someone’s spot, you’re baiting them up. You’re being really kind of, “Look at me, look at me,” you’re being bait. So that speaks to Shah Latif, the character, and his attention seeking. But bait also means, online, trolling. It also means, in Urdu, your loyalty or your allegiance. It also mean in Arabic, in Hebrew, home. And it also, in literal meaning, it’s something used as part of a trap, which speaks to the spy thriller element to the show. So all these different layers to the word bait correspond to a different layer of show, correspond to each different episode. That’s exploring that meaning. And I wish I could tell you we had this all worked out upfront, but we struggled with the title for so long and it kind of like hiccuped itself up into the ether in a late-night kind of hair-pulling session. We realized, “Oh, my God, that’s it. That’s exactly what it should be.” So yeah, the title I think encapsulates how we’re trying to explore these different genres and all the different narrative threads in the show.

Olsen: All the things that your character of Shah Latif is going through trying to move forward in his career as an actor, remaining true to his community and his sense of self, how much of those are your own issues? Are there things that you feel like you’re on the other side of now? Are those things that you’re sort of constantly trying to figure out for yourself?

Ahmed: Of course, like this idea of searching for your identity in a world that either commodifies it or punishes it, that’s something I relate to. But I also kind of feel like that’s something we all relate to. There’s a lot of me in Shah Latif, but I actually think there’s a lot of Shah Latif in all of us. This idea of feeling as though you’re not enough. This idea of trying to cultivate a public version of yourself because you’re ashamed of the private version of your self. I think that’s such a universal feeling right now in this performative culture that we live in. We all wanna be looked at, but we don’t wanna be seen. And somebody once told me that the distance between your public and private self is the amount of shame that you carry. I think it’s true, more or less. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a private life and some things shouldn’t be kept private. It probably should. But in a kind of deeper sense, I think there’s a truth in that. So I wanted to make a comedy in this playground of shame because it’s something that I can relate to, but I just had a sense that this is a very universal feeling.

Olsen: How much of these are issues or things you were going through in your career maybe five years ago, 10 years ago? What are the the sort of top-line things that you feel like you’re struggling with now?

Ahmed: This is where it becomes a full-blown therapy session. I would say that there was a period of time when I was just really desperate to be in the room. And now I’m in a place where I’m really excited to try and build my own room. And that, in a way, is a journey that the character goes on. I think it’s a journey that I’ve gone on, and the show, in a way, is a culmination of that journey. You know, it was just such a privilege to be able to create a playground and bring together this kind of ensemble. I don’t think there’s ever quite been a brown ensemble like this on screen before and [to] showcase all that talent and create that sense of family and specificity. And yeah, as I said, kind of build my own room rather than asking for a seat at someone else’s table. So I think that journey is one that I’ve been on and one that, I think, the show is exploring.

Olsen: There are these title cards throughout the series that give you these neighborhoods and locations, and I don’t know London super well, but like, it feels like it’s a very specific version of London. What was the importance of those locations for you?

Ahmed: The shows that I really adore and the ones that really inspired me on this journey are ones that are unapologetically specific. The Holy Trinity in my mind was “Atlanta,” “I May Destroy You” and “Fleabag.” These half-hour shows that are super personal, but also super specific in the world they’re exploring, whether they’re a city like Atlanta or a certain kind of Black London, or a very particular kind of white, middle-class British family in “Fleabag.” And so I wanted that unapologetic specificity. I wanted it to be a love letter to my London. And so I wanted to shout out these neighborhoods that really mean something to me. But more than that, I wanted to give a nod to the spy genre with those title cards. You know, in a Bond movie it says like, “Somewhere in the Caribbean,” you know, “Mexico City.” I wanted do that with Kentish Town, with Brick Lane, with Wembley. I wanted to elevate our daily experience and those neighborhoods to that kind of grand stage and those epic stakes and say, “Actually, this is as magical, as important, as exotic, as thrilling as any of those locations within that kind of genre.” Jordan Peele, when he made “Get Out,” said, “Being Black in America is like living in a horror movie. That’s why I made ‘Get Out.’” I can add this thesis that being brown in the West is like being in a spy thriller. And that’s why we made this. So I wanted those neighborhoods to feel like those chyrons you have in a spy thriller.

Olsen: You’ve often mentioned in the past, it’s a phrase I’m very taken with, “stretching culture,” expanding the idea of what’s possible. And I’m just curious, like, how is that going for you?

Ahmed: There’s the idea that the universe is expanding in all directions at the same time. I feel like that with culture. I feel like things are getting crazier and better at the same time simultaneously at an accelerating pace. You know, that’s kind of how I feel about it. And it’s like our consciousness, right? You get a little bit crazier, even as you get smarter. It’s that kind of feeling. For whatever it’s worth, it may sound pretentious, but I kind of feel it’s important to try and anchor myself in some sense of purpose. And I think that’s the purpose of storytelling, is to kind of constantly expand horizons of who is considered human and what is considered human. And I think for me, at least in this moment in my journey, I want that to be about telling stories that haven’t been told before, portraying worlds and communities and characters that maybe we haven’t been that familiar with.

Olsen: You’ve expressed some frustration recently with the phrase “representation” — that it’s become kind of a hollow gesture. What would you like to see happen moving forward?

Ahmed: Well, I was really proud to be part of the conversation, when we were kind of collectively coining that term, right, going from diversity to representation. But I do think it’s not an end in itself. Like I said, being in the room doesn’t necessarily change anything. It’s what are you allowed to do in that room? Does the room change you, or do you change it? It’s what the show’s exploring. And so at least for me right now, the kind of representation I’m interested in is how authentically we can represent ourselves. Do you know what I mean? Like, do I have to code switch? Do I have put on a mask or do I get to take it off? That to me is, I think, the most exciting kind of knot to unpick right now. And as I said, that’s kind of at the heart of the show.

Olsen: I want to be sure to ask you about some of the other cast on the show, specifically Guz Khan. I feel like I could watch the two of you just driving around in a car together for hours.

Ahmed: I’ll send you the rushes.

Olsen: Did you two have an immediate chemistry?

Ahmed: Can I tell you, the story of me and Guz is its own bizarre bromance. Here’s how I thought I knew Guz. Guz went viral in the UK because he did a joke, kind of like [a] shout-out against Steven Spielberg, right? Because there’s a kind of dinosaur in his “Jurassic Park” reboot that sounds like a racial slur in the UK. I’m just gonna let people check it out for themselves. I’m not gonna say more than that. This is like 10 years ago, something like that. He goes viral, he starts blowing up, people start offering him his own TV show. He DMs me on Twitter and he’s like, “Bro, like, what’s the industry like? Is it like crazy Illuminati vibes?” I was like, “Yes, but the Illuminatis are actually very fun, come and join us.” And just started this banter with him, and he goes on his journey, becomes one of the most beloved comedians. I’m on set with him, shooting “Bait.” And he goes, “You don’t remember the first time we met and we spoke, do you?” I said, “I remember, you DM’d me like a crazy guy.” And he was like, “No, no. We met 20 years ago.” I was like, “What are you talking about?” I was doing a spoken-word performance in the Midlands in the UK. No one was coming to see it. It was a completely empty club. So I take it upon myself to go outside and start flyering passers-by. Down a dark alley, I see guys with some of his friends engaged in a business of some sort. His legal team have asked me to refer to it as “selling tulips.” They were selling tulips, OK? I go down to this alleyway, I hand him flyers, him and his friends. I’m like, “How are you doing there, gentlemen? Would you like to come and see me do some spoken word?” They’re like, “What the hell? We’re in their mid-tulip transaction.” He decides out of the kindness of his heart with his boys to come and watch me do spoken word at Coventry Student Union. And he said it was the first time he saw someone that looked like him doing something like that in a space like that. … Twenty years later, we’re on set together. We met when we were like 20 years old and I’d completely forgotten him, but he remembered. We have like a brotherhood and a friendship in real life. I wrote that role for him. He is someone who constantly reminds me that as an artist, your art can only be as expansive as your heart is. He’s just that guy on set you want to be around. He brings the positive energy, he reminds you this is meant to be fun. And actually, when you’re having fun, you’re feeling relaxed and loose, you do great work. He’s evidence of that. And so I just have so much love for him, but I would only say that because he’s not here. If he was here, I would be making fun of him aggressively.

Olsen: Now that to me seems like this notion of stretching culture, where you’ve had this influence on him that you kind of didn’t even know.

Ahmed: I would love it if he would say that publicly, rather than me having to tell the world that I’m responsible for his career. Thank you for saying it. If we can clip that bit, that would be great. Send it to Guz, yeah? Email that to him. I don’t know, man. I kind of feel like we’re all in this relay race, right, and we’re just fumbling the ball to one another and trying to move forward. And one of the great things about this show was being in community in that way. I think for some people, particularly in the UK, they’re familiar with the world that’s portrayed here. I think, for a lot of Americans, they’re really not. Interestingly, I’ve had a lot of Latin viewers and Latina viewers approach me saying, “That’s my family, I get that, I know what that is.” And so I don’t know, I just think it’s kind of exciting. One of the things I love most about storytelling on screen is we can bring people into worlds they haven’t been to before. That’s what I remember falling in love with when I watched “Goodfellas” and “Mean Streets” in that world that Scorsese creates. So yeah, I think as long as we’re all leaning into this specificity, doing so in community, maybe that’s how we get to stretch culture.

Olsen: In a recent profile on you, the actor Sandra Hüller, who you work with on the upcoming movie “Digger,” she said that one of the things she most admires about you is that you take yourself and your work seriously. And I think I feel the same way, like there’s an intentionality to what you do, there’s a sense of purpose to what do.

Ahmed: It sounds so boring, though, when you put it like that. Doesn’t it? I hope I don’t take myself too seriously. I guess I take it seriously that I’ve got this opportunity to try and tell stories, and I believe that they matter. But I actually hope I don’t take myself seriously, very seriously. I hope this show in a way is evidence of that. That’s Exhibit A. Yeah, you got Hüller’s testimony here and then you got “Bait” over here. Who do you believe?

Olsen: Is there anything you can tell me about “Digger”? It’s a new film from Alejandro González Iñárritu, it stars Tom Cruise, and it has quickly become, I think, one of the most anticipated movies of the year. People are very excited about it. And there’s very little known about it, is there anything you can say about it?

Ahmed: It’s funny you should say that because I spoke to Alejandro today and he gave me permission to reveal something exclusively to you on this podcast. No, not really. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. I actually might get assassinated for just saying that even.

Olsen: And have you seen it?

Ahmed: I feel like anything I say, there’s like a bomb on my leg that might go off. I’ll say this, it was a really unique and incredible experience. Alejandro is this crazy genius and being around that level of — Tom Cruise as well — they’re all obsessive perfectionists that have just like endless rocket fuel in them. It’s just inspiring to be around, honestly. Really, really unique. I don’t know if I’ll ever have an experience like that again.

Olsen: And then you were nominated for an Academy Award for acting for “Sound of Metal,” but you won an Academy Award for the short film “The Long Goodbye” that was based on an album that you put out. As you’ve become busier in your acting career, has it become difficult for you to still make time for your music?

Ahmed: The projects that I have out right now with “Hamlet” and “Bait” are things that I’ve built. I’m not saying this is the way, necessarily, it’ll always be, but at least over the last several years, acting is like this cherry on the cake. I’m spending all this time building these other things and writing these things and producing these things. And in a way making music is part of that. It’s like being in a writers’ room, with musicians in a studio. And one of the things that I’ve enjoyed most is bringing the development of stories together with the development of albums. “The Long Goodbye” short film is an example of that. But I mean, I joke about this to my friends, one of the main reasons I made “Bait” as a TV show is so that I could make a soundtrack. You know, I grew up on Bollywood where, in a way, the movie was just an excuse for the music. I partly almost feel the same way here. We’ve got a soundtrack for “Bait,” which I’m very, very proud of. And it’s a reflection, I think again, of that eclectic, multicultural London that I know and love. It pulls together artists from across the diaspora, from the Bay Area and the U.S. through to India and Pakistan, from Trinidad and Bangladesh and Karachi and London. And it’s something that I think kind of speaks to the genre-bendiness of the show as well. So in a weird way, as I’m developing more of my own stories, I’m able to incorporate music into that process more.

Olsen: But are you making music of your own?

Ahmed: Yeah, I’ve got two tracks on that soundtrack, for example. Yeah, one of them with a rapper who I’ve been a huge fan of for many, many years. So that was a lovely moment. His name is Casisdead, makes very kind of cinematic UK hip-hop. So I’ve got two tracks on that and yeah, I mean, watch this space. Hopefully I’ll have some more time.

Olsen: And then, this is a moment in the show, and I know it’s something that’s happened in the past, but are you still ever mistaken for Dev Patel?

Ahmed: Honestly, every time I’m mistaken for Dev Patel, I’ll take the flowers. I’m such a fan of his, personally, and he’s actually also from that very particular pocket of Northwest London where I’m from, that this show is almost a love letter to. That pocket of London has produced, if I may humbly put myself in that bracket, myself, but also Dev Patel, Jay Paul, Jay Sean and Jay Shetty. All the Jays. All of them. So I’m very proud of Dev and everything he’s doing, and he’s telling his own stories as well in a way that I find really inspiring.

There’s a good reason why David Sedaris is the most beloved humorist in America. He has an unerring ability to tap into the absurdity and petty annoyances of American culture more cogently than any other writer of his generation. He is also funny as hell.

Sedaris’ latest collection, “The Land and Its People,” finds the author grappling with the seductions and consolations of technology, creeping mortality, unwanted sexual advances and feral dogs, for starters. I recently chatted with Sedaris about books, nannies and iPhones.

✍️ Author Chat

Your first book was a collection of short stories. Was it always the intent to move into writing essays, or did you have designs on being a novelist?

It never occurred to me that I would write essays about my life. I started off writing fiction, and then I started doing these readings in Chicago. Then I was to read at this variety show at this place called Park West. I was limited to about five minutes, and so I just plucked something from my diary. And it worked. I would walk onstage wearing a tie with a stack of diaries in my hand. Then I started doing these radio shows, and I thought I could read my fiction, but it had to be nonfiction. So a lot of the earliest pieces that I ever read were just things plucked from my diary.

What actually happened was that after this piece I wrote called “The Santaland Diaries” had been on the radio, I had this other book that I had already written, and I was just kind of waiting for someone to call and ask if they could publish it. But it couldn’t be published unless “Santaland” was included.

That book was “Barrel Fever” in 1994 which was a big hit. Now you were that rare creature: a bestselling essayist.

With essays, there’s a kind of shorthand to it. If you’re writing fiction, you have to world-build with every story, whereas with an essay I can just get up on stage and say “my sister and I went shipping” and people know who my sister is, and I can just get right into it. My fiction is always way, way over the top. I can’t write any story where people are reasonable.

What makes you unique is that you are onstage in front of an audience more often than 99% of authors. You can workshop material to see if it lands, much like a comic.

Yes, and I don’t ever want to waste an opportunity to do that. The frustrating thing about being on a book tour is that I can no longer make any changes to the book. So I’ve been bringing out some little, short things I’ve been working on to get it on its feet.

Much of your writing is observational. Do you find, given your public profile, that it becomes harder to do that?

It depends on where I am. If I’m hanging out in places where people don’t read, or in another country, then it doesn’t make any difference. The bigger problem is that when you’re spying on the world now, the world is just looking at their phones.

“The Land and Its People” is the new collection of essays by David Sedaris.

(Little, Brown and Company)

I know you aren’t big on the phone, or at least taking pictures with your phone. In one of your essays in the new book, you are on a Kenyan safari with your partner Hugh and you adamantly refuse to snap a single photo.

If you’re at a book signing, you meet someone and then stand up and someone takes a picture with their phone. I’d rather talk to that person, you know? The picture thing, it just doesn’t make any sense to me. It doesn’t mean anything. I was invited to the Academy Awards because I wrote something about a movie, which was crazy. But it never for one moment occurred to me to go up to anybody to take a selfie. All that means is that I bothered this person. By the way, I have never once asked Hugh to send me his safari pictures.

What books make you laugh out loud?

I’m always happy to find a funny book, but they are hard to find. Did you read “Rejection” by Tony Tulathimutte?

It’s on my nightstand.

Oh my God, I laughed out loud so many times at that book. And he’s not a humorist. I’m not even sure if he thinks the book is funny. There’s a short story in there, about a guy who’s just a complete a— and his girlfriend moves in with him and he makes her put all of her stuff in the oven.

I like things that are funny that aren’t supposed to be funny. Somebody said to me a few weeks ago, “How can we laugh with the world in such terrible shape?” I said, it’s easy. Just get rid of any sense of empathy or compassion! If you’re writing satire, you have to go big. You can’t tone it down. Then it’s not satire anymore, it’s just cereal milk.

You do write in the new book about this kind of language policing that is prevalent now.

I hate it. I mean, the New Yorker is pretty good to me. I can’t complain. But I turned something in to them, and they told me I couldn’t use the word “nanny” in the piece. I mean, a nanny is a real profession, like a pharmacist. I told them I wouldn’t cut it. It just makes me think about young people who are starting out, who can’t say no because they need the money.

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

📰 The Week(s) in Books

(Illustration by Jim Cooke / Los Angeles Times; Photo via Getty Images)

Leigh Haber is blown away by Anne Patchett’s 10th novel, “Whistler.” “This exquisite writer has once again delivered an incandescent work of fiction — sweet, but never sentimental, infinitely wise and suffused with love,” Haber writes.

Songwriter and Sheryl Crow collaborator David Baerwald has written a novel called “The Fire Agent,” about his grandfather Ernest, a musician and a prisoner of war in a Japanese internment camp during World War I. “One of my characters tells Ernst that he has ‘yuyo,’ which might best be described as grace,” Baerwald tells Bethanne Patrick. “Its Japanese meaning is closer to the state of a river rock that has been washed over and tumbled thousands of times, so that it’s both distinct, and a meaningful part of its environment.”

Rasheed Newson, a showrunner for “The Chi” and “Bel-Air,” has written “There’s Only One Sin in Hollywood,” a novel about an often-neglected chapter of Hollywood’s Golden Age. “I wanted to do a deep dive into Black queer history during the Golden Age of cinema,” Newson tells Meredith Maran. “The first thing that came to me was Xavier’s character. I decided to make him the 10-years-younger, queer rival of Sidney Poitier, to highlight the acceptable versus unacceptable — meaning, straight versus gay — 1950s Black movie star.”

Finally, Adam Messinger, a staffer at West Hollywood’s Book Soup, attempts to answer the question: Why are books shrinking? One possible culprit may be social media. “Holding the book up to take a photo of it is easier,” writer and social media influencer Caroline Mason tells Messinger. “Although I do sometimes still drop it.”

📖 Bookstore Faves

Lost Books in Montrose looks and feels unlike any other bookstore in L.A. — a verdant terrarium filled with new and used books and vinyl. Created by Last Bookstore co-owners Jenna and Josh Spencer, Lost Books also sells plants. Moss has colonized the ceiling, and tall trees keep sentry over the store’s diverse and eclectic inventory. I asked Josh Spencer about how Lost came about.

What was the thinking behind opening Lost?

It was spontaneous. My wife and I were eating dinner in the very charming neighborhood of Montrose, and saw a very cool vacant storefront. It also happened to be on Honolulu Avenue, and with both of us being from Hawaii, we took it as a sign. We did not want to franchise the Last Bookstore at the time, and wanted the new store to have its own name and unique vibe.

You also sell plants. Where did that idea come from?

My wife grew up in a rain forest on Maui. She loves plants, and we thought that a pairing of nature with literature was exciting and not done before.

Who are your customers?

Mostly locals in Montrose, La Cañada, La Crescenta, Glendale. But we get a fair number of tourists and also people from other parts of L.A. People who love beauty, nature and books. And vinyl!

Are you seeing that big vinyl resurgence we’ve been hearing about?

Absolutely! Our vinyl does very well for us.

What genres or types of books do well for you there?

Classics, kids books, mysteries, graphic novels, art, self-help, memoirs, cookbooks and gardening of course!

Lost Books is located at 2233 Honolulu Ave., Montrose.

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

Ron, a West L.A. resident, thinks he knows why former reality TV star and political newcomer Spencer Pratt won so much support in his run for mayor.

People are frustrated, frightened and angry about homelessness “and the crime associated with it,” Ron said in an email. He added that he voted for Mayor Karen Bass, but “almost everything Pratt said about the homeless resonated with me. … The homeless run wild here, without consequence.”

“Many of us support him not because we think he’s perfect,” said Kathy, “but because we are deeply dissatisfied with the direction of Los Angeles and feel that traditional politicians have not delivered the results we were promised.”

Bob, “a left-leaning Palisades resident,” said the issue is not Pratt’s lack of credentials, but the failures of incumbents. “There was a columnist … who documented in depth the situation at MacArthur Park,” Bob wrote in reference to me. “What was his name and what happened to him? Did he change his tune?”

These are all fair points, and if Pratt holds onto one of the top two spots and makes it to the Nov. 3 general election, or he’s overtaken by late-charging Councilmember Nithya Raman, we’re going to hear a lot more about homelessness in coming months.

So whether we’re looking at a Bass-Raman contest or a Bass-Pratt showdown, here are some random musings, and I’ll begin by responding to Bob’s question about whether I have changed my tune.

Not in the least.

The situation in MacArthur Park — targeted Thursday in a crackdown that involved multiple arrests — has long been a disgrace, and the same is true of many other places I’ve written about for the past quarter of a century. Last month, I visited a Hollywood neighborhood where one frustrated resident hired her housekeeper to document chronic problems related to homelessness, illegal dumping and criminal activity.

Residents have good reason to ask why they haven’t gotten better results after responding to politicians’ pleas for more money over the years.

It’s no surprise that Bass had high unfavorability ratings and why, despite leading in the primary vote count, she’ll fall far short of the 50% needed to avoid a second election phase. I still can’t believe that when I first asked her about the sad state of MacArthur Park, she told me she was fully aware, because she often drove through the area on her way to work.

Then why hadn’t she led the charge to address the problems and return the park to the community?

It shouldn’t take months, let alone years, to take back control of public spaces, and Pratt’s criticism is warranted, no doubt. And my main issue is not the hypocrisy of him saying God wants him to be mayor while calling his opponents demonic entities and villainizing homeless people he intends to shoo away to Seattle. It’s that his “fixes” demonstrate a lack of understanding.

Let me make a confession. From one angle or another, I’ve been writing about the intersection of homelessness, mental illness and addiction for a couple of decades, and I still have a lot to learn.

And on a personal note, I lost my son to a drug overdose. He had a job and wasn’t homeless, but like a lot of people who struggle with depression and other demons, he was resistant to help, and even to the idea that he needed help.

There are a lot more substance users like him, living out of public view, than there are on the street. We notice only those who don’t have the means to pay the rent or the mortgage as housing prices rise. So when Pratt says we don’t have a homelessness problem, but a drug problem, he’s missing a critical component in understanding why L.A. has tens of thousands of unsheltered people.

Pratt said on his website that his “treatment first” approach would direct resources into mental health and drug treatment care, which sounds good except that those responsibilities are primarily under county jurisdiction, not city control.

He and others have attacked harm reduction practices, such as distribution of needles and other paraphernalia. And I have to admit that it seems counterintuitive to enable further drug use. But the idea is to prevent death, engage clients and start a relationship that might lead to transformative care.

The county reports that in 2024, fentanyl-related deaths decreased by 37% and meth-related deaths by 20%. Harm reduction can be “absolutely invaluable,” addiction specialist Rick Rawson told me when I was working in MacArthur Park, but we need much more than that.

“When you have someone who becomes so incapacitated that they can’t stand up,” Rawson said, “to say that you’re just going to provide them with harm reduction and hope they don’t die, I think that falls short of the responsibility we have to each other and to the sickest people.”

I’ll add here that I firmly believe we should intervene more aggressively with people who are gravely ill, or are a threat to themselves or others. I recently profiled two San Diegans who are advocating for use of an existing law to allow for deeper evaluations and longer-term treatment plans for people with chronic drug and mental health issues.

It’s worth noting that drug and alcohol rehab is seldom a quick or surefire remedy. As for mental illness, it took me one year, along with the help of trained professionals, to convince my friend Nathaniel to seek help after he’d spent decades on the street following a diagnosis of schizophrenia.

What I’ve found over the years is that many of those living in tents and cars and alleys and parks are damaged in numerous ways.

I’m less inclined to judge people from a distance after having met a man on Skid Row who said he fell apart after his young daughter drowned. I’ve met women who are victims of domestic abuse or sexual assault. People in the grip of killer drugs like meth or fentanyl don’t think as clearly as we’d like them to, and they repeatedly sabotage their own self-interest.

To see people take over public spaces, openly sell or use drugs, lash out and scare those around them is disturbing and sometimes scary. But to say they choose to live on the street, as Pratt has, is to miss the point, to excuse our own complicity, to overlook historic policy failures, and to choose contempt over compassion.

Homelessness can cause mental illness, and mental illness can cause addiction, and vice versa. One condition alone can be difficult to address, but intertwined maladies further complicate matters.

I recently checked in with a guy I wrote about who had been addicted and homeless in Koreatown, and he said his recovery took more than half a year. He was in residential treatment for a few months, then in intensive outpatient treatment. There are no shortcuts, he said.

I’m not here to defend Bass, or Raman and the rest of the City Council, which shares responsibility for the current state of the city. Limited progress has been made in the last 3½ years, with a marginally lower number of homeless people.

But there’s a long way to go in moving people indoors and restoring a sense of order and public safety. The many needs include smarter enforcement of existing laws, faster development of low-cost interim and permanent housing, better coordination of outreach and follow-up services and more people willing to do all of this work.

Let’s hope that in the coming months we’ll get an honest conversation about what’s working, what isn’t, and how to do better.

steve.lopez@latimes.com

“It’s already awards season again?”

So asked a Times colleague on our morning editorial call earlier this week, sharing her impression that the Oscars — which were handed out March 15 — just concluded. And though it may feel like Hollywood was awarding gold statuettes just yesterday, the Emmys wait for no man, least of all this one.

I’m Matt Brennan, editor in chief of the Envelope and I’ll be back in your inboxes for the next three weeks to share highlights from our four pre-nominations issues, starting with the June 4 edition. Whether you’re a voter prioritizing what to catch up with or an observer trying to get a handle on what’s in this year’s race, read on.

The Emmy Comedy Roundtable

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Leave it to comedy legend Steve Carell to deliver a sage piece of advice on The Envelope’s 2026 Emmy Comedy Roundtable — without even participating in the conversation.

“Steve says this beautiful thing that characters don’t know whether they’re in a comedy or a drama,” Carell’s “Rooster” co-star Danielle Deadwyler relayed to nods of agreement and appreciation from the panel. “And that’s about as true as it gets. You bring full rigor and development and discipline to the making of a role, regardless of what genre.”

Of course, with Deadwyler, Donald Faison (“Scrubs”), Sabrina Impacciatore (“The Paper”), Justine Lupe (“Nobody Wants This”), Lamorne Morris (“Spider-Noir”) and Chris Perfetti (“Abbott Elementary”) around the table, the conversation, moderated by The Times’ Lorraine Ali, came with plenty of laughs too — about surviving bad reviews, being mistaken for other performers, breaking one’s castmates and much more. You can also watch it on YouTube here.

Meet ‘SNL’s’ resident ‘quiet little freak’

(Sela Shiloni / For The Times)

As someone who counts ex-Trump voters among my own family, “Saturday Night Live” cast member Ashley Padilla’s character in “Mom Confession” — about a stubborn MAGA parent who finally admits to her kids that she may have been wrong about the president — struck a chord with me when it aired in January. So I was delighted to see contributor Tim Grierson’s profile of the actor (and former Diane Keaton assistant) dig into what makes the sketch, like so much of her work on NBC’s variety series, tick.

“Padilla, who sports an ebullient manner and warm smile, has become a fan favorite by exploring how much humor (and tension) you can derive from stillness,” he writes. “Her best sketches … sparkle because of how expertly she builds suspense regarding where the setup is going.”

‘Margo’s Got Money Troubles’

Sex work is work. And in the right hands, it’s highly creative work. Case in point: HungryGhost, the alien alter ego Margot Millet (Elle Fanning) assumes when she launches an OnlyFans to make ends meet in “Margo’s Got Money Troubles.”

As contributor Tomris Laffly reports, the DIY artistry that brings HungryGhost to life in “Margo” reflects the layers of craftsmanship required to bring her to the screen, from hand-bedazzled cowboy boots to bulk-bought containers of turquoise eye shadow. “She’s a director,” executive producer and director Dearbhla Walsh says of Margo, an aspiring writer. “You could always see the creation [process], how Margo brought theater into her OnlyFans.”

More stories from our June 4 issue

In the debut episode of “The De Los Podcast,” hosts Fidel Martinez and Suzy Exposito spoke with the Latin Grammy-nominated singer and actor Leslie Grace about her long-awaited new music — plus some of the highlights and pain points throughout her film career.

Released in May, Grace’s bilingual record “Amor, ¿Quién Eres?” is the first album she’s released in over a decade. Suffused with what Exposito described as “tropical eleganza,” the album is a far cry from the Christian music Grace recorded in her teen years — and a marked shift from the Latin Grammy-nominated self-titled project she released in 2013. She touched on some of the personal developments required to reach the more sensual sonic landscape she explored in her latest release.

“The biggest learning has been how to protect my creative space, while I grow it and discover at the same time,” she told De Los.

The 31-year-old also discussed her work in the 2021 movie musical “In the Heights” — and the online backlash the film received due to the lack of other Afro-Latinos in the cast.

“The lack of representation within film [and] diversity within the Latin community is a conversation we haven’t touched on as much,” she said. “Only so many films [are] given a shot. There [are] certain ways that Latinos are portrayed that are very narrowed down in film. I think it’s a worthwhile conversation at any time. I’m glad that people started to talk about that, so [we] can get more stories.”

Reflecting further on her filmography, Grace talked about the canceled release of “Batgirl,” in which she played the titular role. The film, which was originally for a late 2022 debut on the HBO Max streaming service, was axed by its studio Warner Bros. for financial reasons.

“It was disappointing because we knew the film that we were making,” Grace said of the movie, which was in postproduction when it was scrapped. “I knew that it wasn’t a reflection of our work, because this is something that happens. But I think because of the context of the conversation around representation, and the way that films can be discarded, after a lot of work and time and money has gone into something … the creative community really felt for me.”

During that period, Grace said the support from other creatives helped her move forward. She has since starred in more independent films in recent years — including “In the Summers,” which won a grand jury prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 2024 — and the 2026 features “Stages” and “Campeón Gabacho,” which premiered at this year’s edition of South By Southwest.

“I really am grateful for every person that reached out to me and was like: ‘Hey, I’ve got you, whatever you need,’ or ‘This is wrong,’” Grace said. “When something happens to me, I focus on my experience and what I gained from it, that no one could really take away.”

WASHINGTON — Democrats have spent nearly two years trying to move past the 2024 presidential election. Now, Jill Biden’s new memoir is forcing them to relive it.

Her new book, “View from the East Wing,” which comes out Tuesday, is already drawing sharp rebukes from top Democrats, some of whom say it is a poorly timed and misleading account of the events that led to the demise of her husband’s presidency.

“Unhelpful … Ripping open a healing scab is never helpful,” John Morgan, a Florida trial attorney who was a major fundraiser for Biden’s 2024 campaign, told The Times. “In my opinion, she was the main problem. She loved the life and didn’t want it to end.”

Those type of frustrations erupted last week as the former first lady began promoting her book, including in a sit-down interview with CBS News airing Sunday, in which she said she thought the sitting president was having a stroke as she watched the 2024 presidential debate.

“I was frightened, because I had never ever seen Joe like that before or since. Never,” Biden said. The moment “scared me to death,” she added.

For Democrats who had a similar reaction in real time, but who spent months being told by the Biden campaign that their concerns were overblown, her remarks landed like a gut punch. With the midterms around the corner, some bemoaned that Biden was relitigating a sore subject — particularly the question of who knew what about Biden’s aging and cognitive decline.

“What I care about is what happens going forward,” Dan Pfeiffer, a host of “Pod Save America,” a popular progressive podcast, said on the show Thursday. “What bothers me the most is not the timeline of events, but whether Democratic leaders now will ever reckon with the massive breach of trust that came because of how all of that was handled.”

Meghan Hays, a former White House aide to Joe Biden, said on C-SPAN’s “Ceasefire” that although she understands that Jill Biden is trying to sell books, her efforts are not helping the party ahead of the midterm elections.

“We have a lot of momentum in our favor … and when we get pulled back into conversations about age and the election in ‘24, it’s never gonna be a good place for Democrats,” Hays said. “I think it is a tough place to be.”

The Democratic Party found itself trapped in a similar dynamic earlier this month, when the Democratic National Committee released a long-awaited, 192-page report dissecting the 2024 loss. The committee’s chairman, Ken Martin, shared the postelection autopsy after coming under intense pressure from Democratic operatives, and apologized for how he handled its release.

The report faulted Kamala Harris and Democrats’ focus on “identity politics” but did not address Biden’s decision to seek reelection amid health concerns and the rushed selection of Harris to replace him on the ticket.

In her book, the former first lady writes that her goal is to be able to “set the record straight” about what happened during the debate and the months that followed that led to President Trump’s return to the White House, according to the Atlantic, which obtained a copy of the book ahead of its release.

At one point, she writes that she even suspected her husband may have been inadvertently impaired after taking cough syrup. In the CBS interview, Biden maintained that she never saw any signs of cognitive decline while he was the sitting president.

“He was the same, the essence of the same Joe Biden, but yeah, he was slowing down. He was getting older,” she said. “You know, it’s a very intense job. I think it ages you — quickly.”

Morgan, the former Biden fundraiser, said he does not believe the first lady is telling the truth in her memoir.

“If you like fiction it’s good,” Morgan said. He added that her claim that she had never witnessed her husband act in a similar way since the debate “defies the smell test.”

“His keys should have been taken long before that night,” Morgan said.

Michael LaRosa, a former press secretary for the first lady, called Democrats’ reaction to the new memoir “pretty grim.”

“There is a deep reservoir of frustration among ‘formers’ who believe she enables the culture around her and the President rather than challenging it,” LaRosa wrote. “So now they seem to be challenging her.”

Although many Democrats are publicly expressing their annoyance at the conversation Biden has resurfaced, others do not see the former first lady’s comments having an effect on the upcoming elections.

“This is not going to be part of a conversation in the election. It’s going to be part of a conversation in Washington because that is what Washington does, but this is not going to move the needle in New Hampshire or other states where it matters,” said Steve Schale, a Democratic strategist who ran a pro-Biden super PAC during the 2020 election cycle.

Schale was blunt: “She is selling books.”

Even if that is the case, Republicans are taking notice.

In a Truth Social post on Friday, President Trump appeared gleeful to note that Biden was “finally admitting” that she did not know what was wrong with her husband during “our spectacular, and highly rated, 2024 Presidential Debate.”

The president lamented that the former first lady did not compliment his performance.

“In other words, as many have asked, did my strong performance in that debate cause him to plain and simple ‘choke,’ leading to his ignominious defeat, or were other reasons the cause? Nobody else knows the answer to that, BUT I DO!!!” Trump wrote.

In Deborah Levy’s new novel “My Year in Paris With Gertrude Stein,” the celebrated British author turns her keen observational and critical eye toward Stein, a writer that Levy feels has been criminally redacted from the canon of modernist masters that emerged at the turn of the 20th century. “My Year in Paris With Gertrude Stein,” however, is anything but a dry-as-dust revisionist treatise.

Levy couches her thoughts on Stein’s life and work within the story of three women in contemporary Paris, including Levy’s fictive avatar as the narrator, grappling with her own notions of identity as she writes about Stein and her partner Alice B. Toklas. I spoke with Levy about Stein, Toklas and Picasso.

✍️ Author Chat

Have you always had an abiding interest in Gertrude Stein?

She has always been lurking there for a number of reasons. When I was studying modernist literature, I was pointed to all the usual suspects — T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, Beckett, Joyce. But no one ever pointed to Gertrude Stein. She was absent in Britain, anyway. I’m not sure it’s the same in America.

I feel like in America she certainly is not frequently cited among that pantheon of modernist writers that you just mentioned.

I thought her most commercial work, “The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas,” was quite enchanting. But when you start to dig into her other writing, you find this mixture of very obtuse, very violent work, and some brilliant work.

You write in the book that you sometimes don’t understand Stein, but this doesn’t diminish your enjoyment of her work.

The thing about avant-garde writers is that they either crash or they triumph. For readers, it’s either someone popping a vein at the new and strange, or someone over-praising the work. And I thought, well I’m allowed to have mixed emotions about Stein’s writing. Sometimes she is totally brilliant, and sometimes less so.

Author Deborah Levy

(Sheila Burnett)

You also celebrate Stein and Toklas’ fierce individuality, which runs counter to the usual narratives about female authors during this time.

Well, female writers are supposed to suffer or commit suicide. And the glorious thing about Stein and Alice is that the art of living was very important to them. Travel, conversation, or driving around. This really appeals to me. You know, Stein would have a roast chicken leg in one hand and one hand on the steering wheel, with the dogs in the back.

I feel like Stein’s legacy as a writer has been occluded by her renown as a collector of the greatest modern art of the century, most notably Picasso before he became Picasso. She is remembered more for collecting others’ art than for her own art.

If you’re going to collect this bold, daring art of your own time, and you’re buying it cheap, because it’s being mocked, you have to know how to defend it. Stein wasn’t an art historian. She studied psychology with William James and then studied medicine at Johns Hopkins. Through her conversations with Picasso and others, she really began to acquire the apparatus to defend the work, and that fascinated me.

You write that Stein wanted to kill the 19th century with her work by dismantling and then reassembling language.

She was going to write through continuous present tense. She got rid of commas so she could hurtle through time and make her thoughts move forward. No question marks, because it was self-evident to her when someone was asking a question in her writing. She really was a pioneer.

Her prose reads like Beckett’s, decades before his novels were published.

The critic Roland Barthes wrote that all writing has some kind of behavior. A lot of avant-garde writing behaves like Stein, but she wasn’t imitating any other thing. She made something new for her century.

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

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Book jacket for “Marilyn and Her Books: The Literary Life of Marilyn Monroe” by Gail Crowther

(Los Angeles Times illustration; book jacket from Galley Books)

Marilyn Monroe was an avid reader who traveled with her treasured library of books wherever she lived. Yet, the stubborn image of Monroe as a literary dilettante remains. Now Gail Crowther has written “Marilyn and Her Books” which sets out to debunk that misconception of the screen legend. Crowther’s sharp account is both the story of Monroe’s library and “what we’ve projected upon Monroe when we’re asked to consider that she had one,” writes Mark Athitakis.

As Cuba struggles with a faltering economy and President Trump’s saber-rattling overtures, Ada Ferrer’s timely new memoir “Keeper of My Kin” “argues that the grand narratives of exile and revolution are, at their core, made up of private reckonings with irretrievable consequences,” writes Mariella Rudi.

When Eagle Rock’s Read Books was threatened with a massive rent hike from its landlord, co-owners Jeremy and Debbie Kaplan rallied the community around the fight for tenant’s rights and started an activist organization called Save North East Los Angeles Shops. “Commercial landlords [have] unbelievably unrealistic expectations of rent, and a small business can only sell a T-shirt or a hamburger or a service for what the market will bear,” neighborhood preservationist Aaron Peskin told Emily St. Martin.

Finally, Swan Huntley found a novel way to put off writing her next book: She hiked to every Erewhon store in Los Angeles.

📖 Bookstore Faves

A Good Used Book’s beautiful interior

(A Good Used Book)

Jenny Yang and Chris Capizzi started A Good Used Book in 2017 by selling secondhand titles at local flea markets and the Grand Central Market downtown. Seven years later, after a brief COVID blowback, the pair opened their own storefront in Historic Filipinotown. Now, A Good Used Book has blossomed into a vital community space featuring a vast selection of previously loved books across all genres. The store also hosts pop-up markets on the weekends, with more events scheduled in the coming year. I spoke with Capizzi about his store.

Who are your customers?

Our customer base is pretty broad. We’re selective about the books we carry, but we want anyone to be able to find themselves somewhere in the shop, whether you’re just getting back into reading or you’re the kind of person who already has strong opinions about translations. And we try not to take ourselves too seriously, so even though we may have critical theory, we also have “Choose Your Own Adventure.”

How do you pick inventory? Is there any emphasis on any particular genres that might be popular?

We definitely do the work to find books, but honestly a lot of the time the books seem to find us. In terms of what we carry, we focus mostly on classic, modern and contemporary fiction, but we love genre fiction too, like sci-fi, crime and horror. And a big part of what makes the store feel like us are our nonfiction and culture sections — humanities, sciences, film, music, fashion and design. Anything for that curious person who just wants to go a little deeper.

I know the store is about much more than books. Can you tell me about some of the other community events you guys organize?

During the week we’re all about the books. Every Sunday we host the Every Sunday Funday Market that features two food pop-ups out front, one savory and one sweet, and four or five local vendors and artists inside. We rotate vendors selling and making ceramics, jewelry, Japanese retro radios, soaps and candles, zines and prints, and even Persian perfumes. And we always have drinks going out of our vintage Coleman cooler, too. It’s a lot of things happening at once, but it adds up to a pretty easy, fun Sunday afternoon.

A Good Used Book is located at 307 Glendale Blvd., Los Angeles.

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

Netflix subscribers will wake up to a video livestream of “The Breakfast Club” starting next month, marking the platform’s first daily live podcast.

The deal is part of the streaming platform’s ongoing focus on live programming, and the latest video podcast offering through its partnership with iHeartRadio, the company said on Thursday. The nearly three-hour show will include a live video feed exclusive to Netflix and will air every weekday morning.

“Taking this show live every day to a global audience on Netflix is a powerful example of how we’re expanding the reach of our biggest brands while giving audiences entirely new ways to experience them,” Bob Pittman, iHeartMedia’s chairman and chief executive, said in a statement. “Whether it’s morning in NYC or the afternoon in London, the conversation is live and reaching the world in real time.”

“The Breakfast Club” will air simultaneously on Netflix, the iHeartRadio app and it will continue to be syndicated by Premiere Networks on more than 100 broadcast radio stations nationwide. Netflix’s video feed is meant to provide more behind-the-scenes content, as radio formats will still need to include commercial breaks. Instead of pausing the program, Netflix watchers will get an uninterrupted stream, where those traditional breaks will be filled with exclusive segments and extended discussions.

“The media landscape will always evolve, but one thing consistently cuts through: live programming,” Charlamagne tha God said in a statement. “That’s a big reason ‘The Breakfast Club’ has sustained its reign for so long. We’re building something powerful — real‑time conversation, real community, on a global scale. The future belongs to those who can see what’s possible — and trust me, the vision for ‘The Breakfast Club’ and Netflix is crystal clear.”

The radio program first got its start in 2010 on WWPR-FM in New York. Over the years, it has become one of the most popular morning shows, rooted in Hip-Hop and R&B culture and known for its lively interviews and entertaining commentary from hosts Charlamagne Tha God, DJ Envy and Jess Hilarious. The show has welcomed guests like former President Barack Obama, and artists like Kendrick Lamar and Cardi B. In 2020, the talk show was inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame.

Netflix has heavily invested in its live programming in the worlds of sports, comedy and podcasting in recent years. In the past month, the Los Gatos-based company livestreamed “The Roast of Kevin Hart” and its latest fight between MMA fighters Ronda Rousey and Gina Carano. This weekend, the F1 Canadian Grand Prix is also set to air on Netflix. These tentpole events are in addition to some of the weekly live programming Netflix offers, including “The Bill Simmons Podcast,” which airs every Sunday.

Over the last five years, there has been a significant shift in how fashion and sports intersect, both on and off the court, with athletes’ influence extending beyond the court and into culture at large. Why now? And how has athlete style evolved?

These were some of the questions that three prominent athlete stylists — Brittany Hampton, Courtney Mays and Dex Robinson — unpacked last week at the panel “Game Changers: Where Sport Meets Style.” Moderated by Image contributor Darian Symoné Harvin and co-organized with the Only Agency, the event took place at the private members club Gravitas, a hub for folks at the intersection of sports, business and luxury in Beverly Hills. Gathered in the swanky yet intimate upstairs bar and events room, guests sat in plush chairs and sipped pink vodka cocktails and flipped through Image’s May sports and arts issue ahead of it hitting the newsstands. An also-plush takeaway? Stress balls in the shape of footballs, courtesy of the Only Agency.

The evening could’ve kept going — Hampton, Mays and Robinson had so much to say about an industry that is still widely misunderstood and filled with gatekeeping. The below edited version of the conversation gives you a glimpse into the demanding yet deeply fulfilling world of styling athletes.

Darian Symoné Harvin: Athletes often are not sample size. How do you source clothes and work with brands? Are they supportive? Anything you would tell brands if you could?

Courtney Mays: Size inclusivity is a huge thing. Because, especially when you’re talking about the W[NBA], you’re talking about women who are sometimes a men’s size 13 shoe, who are sometimes a 36-inch inseam. And although we’re using this platform to talk about larger issues, sometimes the larger issue is: I’m here and I’m a plus-size woman. Sometimes you have to use your presence to talk about those things, if you’re not verbally saying that, [and] you have to get the brands to stand behind you.

“We’re making sure that that Old Navy looks like Bottega,” said Courtney Mays, “so that at the end of the day you feel like the superstar that you are. We’re really curating the moment.”

Brittany Hampton: It’s also important for everyone that’s in the room to know that stylists can’t always get the ask that you guys may be asking for. If I have a seven-foot athlete, which I do have on my roster, and he’s, you know, he’s massive — he wears a 16-and-a-half shoe. There may only be a few brands [with his size]. There are going to be certain things that I may even have to pull out of his own closet. And then it still means, “Well, why do we have to give you that budget for that?” And it’s like, well, because I had to have an assistant go get that piece from his closet, have it dry-cleaned, have it picked up, then have it delivered to set. It’s still a process, there’s value in the work that we put in. We’re trying our hardest.

DSH: From a tunnel walk to a press run to a campaign, how do you break down your budget and your fee?

Dex Robinson: Each stylist approaches fees and pricing a different way, right? Also depends on how you were groomed or how you came into the situation. I was an assistant for years before I ever said I was a stylist, and even then I kind of treaded lightly before I was like, “I am a lead stylist.” I was someone’s assistant, and that’s when I asked all the questions that I needed to ask about what my fees would be. I knew the structures, I knew the things, so I wasn’t asking my peers, “Oh, how do I charge for this?”

BH: I do want to jump in and state for the people in the room that may or may not know we’re speaking in terms of expenses. The current budgets that they are talking about are particular to clothing expenses. That does not allot to our fees. We have labor that is very imperative, labor that goes into us doing market research, that goes into us having assistance across cities most of the time. I live in Los Angeles. None of my clients live in Los Angeles. So let’s say my client is currently in the playoffs and lives in Cleveland, but I’m pulling from both New York and Los Angeles, then we’re meeting in Cleveland to have a fitting with him, and that all takes a tailor of this, of that, etc. Now, having tunnel looks is one thing, but then also having a campaign is something completely different. We also then have to be very strategic about brands that we’re pulling from. And we are using our own cards!

CM: A lot of times, we are giving our own money down to say, “I’m taking this half a million dollars’ worth of wardrobe out of your store, and I’m promising you that I’m going to bring it back in a certain amount of time.”

DR: It’s a more lengthy exercise to get people to let you borrow clothes versus [when] the [clients] just pay for this stuff and I don’t have to worry about it after. I would much rather let them have it in their wardrobe and I figure out what to do with it after. And I’m not like, “Oh, you wore this one time,” and just throw this out. No, we gonna cut the arms off of this. We gonna turn this into some shorts.

When asked for one piece of advice for aspiring stylists, Dax Robinson encouraged people to first do their research. “Being fashionable does not make you a stylist … it takes years of perfecting a craft to become a stylist.”

But then to pull from a [showroom], that’s a whole ‘nother situation. That’s not really a money exchange, that’s more of a publicity exchange. And again, it’s still based off your name or your client.

CM: That’s when it’s important to get the shot. We live in a social media world. When we work with brands and we work with designers, we work with PR firms — what they’re looking for is that image. Not only the tunnel walk, but maybe it’s the walk out of the hotel or that paparazzi shot.

So we’re also partnering with photographers, saying, “Hey, our clients are going to the opening of LACMA. We need to capture the moments before.” Just like all the celebrities, they go to the SAG Awards, whatever, and they have these beautiful editorial shots before they even hit the red carpet. Why? Because they invested in a photographer to come to their home, to their hotel room, and say, “Let’s use 15 minutes before you walk out the door, get this BTS, get this shot, and we’re going to make it look beautiful.” Because we want to build the relationships with the brands of the clothing that we’re wearing.

DSH: What I love about what you’re saying is that it’s not only the tunnel, it’s not only the press run, it’s not only the campaign. It’s like, how are you creating this world around who the athlete is? To me, that’s exciting. It’s when you get into the creativity.

Let’s say that you receive a cold email from someone who wants to work with you. What kinds of questions do they ask that lets you know that they’re informed or they mean business? What lets you know, “Oh, they’ve done their homework a little bit, and they’re not just going to toss me around as a possibility”?

BH: We are brand architects, and because you guys are reaching out to us about a particular client, our job is not to just create a character, right? We don’t just create characters. We work with athletes. We understand that we have to know that athlete before they even walk in the room, and we have to understand their identity, understand their brand, and then build that with you [the brands] before we can even do the job right. There’s nothing more that I love than being on a call with a full production team for a full hour for a commercial. Because we actually want to know: One, what’s going into that player. Two, what they look like. Three, what they’re going to be doing, if there’s a double or if they’re going to be active — our talent is very performative, they’re performance-based first, and so we have to remember that when we’re dressing them.

Brittany Hampton on the role stylists play beyond the tunnel walk: “We’re not just bringing them a rack of clothes. We’re truly there to help build their identity and then who they’re about to become.”

CM: I feel like those conversations need to happen at the onset of working with a new client, with the agent, with the manager, with the assistant so that you can understand what the broader goal is for that client. A lot of times when people hire stylists, whether it’s per project or for a longer stint, a season, I think it’s like, “Oh, they just need clothes.” Like, I just had a job. [Her team] was like, “It’s the opening of the WNBA season. She needs clothes tomorrow.” Like an idiot, I took it: I really want to work with this girl. I’m gonna just send her a box. And I knew that was the dumbest thing I could have ever done, because I’ve never met her in person. I didn’t have the right sizes, and I think it ruined the relationship, because I didn’t have any context. So the fact that I couldn’t execute in 24 hours is sticking with me. I should have said no, because that is not my job — to go shop for you at the mall. My job is to really have a conversation about what your goals are, what your fit is, what brands do you love, what do you want to do when this basketball thing is over? I think that part and those conversations are important.

BH: It’s also important to have emotional intelligence. As we are the people that work with athletes on a consistent basis, we have to understand their bodies, but we also have to understand that they win games, they lose games. And half the time we are picking up their energy. We’re not just bringing them a rack of clothes. We’re truly there to help build their identity and then who they’re about to become. Sometimes you don’t get that lucky and get to have someone for that long, but the relationship building and creating that trust is something that’s so important, which is why those factors matter, like hiring someone maybe a month in advance and setting up those calls between the client and the stylist. Even if we just get on the call and we just want to shoot the shit and we’re like, “What colors do you like? What size do you like? What are brands that you love? Who do you look up to in terms of fashion?” Because some of these kids like it, and some of them absolutely don’t know.

DR: Well, that [direct relationship] might not be the reality depending on how big your client is sometimes, too. I’ve worked with people where they had to have that middleman for a little bit until they felt comfortable. So it wasn’t a situation where you could do that direct situation until they were ready. It’s also a different situation for me as a male, because guys don’t like being around other guys, so that’s why [women] dominated [the styling landscape] for years. Think about it. Like, as a guy, your mom is your first stylist. And then when you get a shorty you may say, “Yo, babe, I look nice. I’m good.” Guys really feel confident with a woman saying, “You look nice.” Not, “Yo, bro.” And then, even for me, a lot of the bigger guys I worked with, it was really their wives that was like, “You know what? My man can’t dress. I need you to come in.”

CM: That’s still the case. It’s somebody’s girlfriend or wife or agent. Like, “Please help.”

DSH: I want to talk about the people who you all work with when you are on set. I’m thinking particularly about glam. I’m curious about the makeup, hairstyle and grooming conversation that you are having, and why it matters.

“What you’re saying is that there’s a level of love that you have to put into it, and it’s not just about the clothes, but about the person,” reflected moderator Darian Symoné Harvin. “What do you like off the court? Where do you want to be? Where do you want to show up, right?”

CM: I feel like the stylist always becomes the creative director. We’re the hype man. We’re the one that’s talking to the hairstylist to say, “OK, she’s wearing this dress, we got to do XYZ, LMNOP.” We’re talking to the hairstylist. We’re talking to the photographer. We’re saying, “OK, we need a green backdrop instead of a yellow.” And I feel like that’s why we’re asking for certain rates; it’s not just me going to Old Navy to get y’all some jeans. And even if I am, because sometimes [Old Navy is] cute, we’re tailoring it. We’re making sure that that Old Navy looks like Bottega, so that at the end of the day you feel like the superstar that you are. We’re really curating the moment.

DSH: What advice would you give if you were sitting across a coffee table with a stylist who says, “I want to get into styling athletes”? What’s the one honest piece of advice you would give them?

BH: We can’t do everything. There are hundreds and hundreds of athletes across the board, and although we all came from a world of gatekeeping, it’s just not that anymore. Like we all have to share relationships. We have to continue to boost one another up. There’s been jobs where I’m like, “I can’t take that. Can you take that? Would you want that? This could be a good girl for you.”

DR: I think that a lot of people think because they’re fashionable, that means they should be a stylist. And I think being fashionable is just that. Being fashionable does not make you a stylist. I think it takes a sharpened eye. I think it takes understanding skill and proportion. I think it takes years of perfecting a craft to become a stylist. I think that people should just do research. I think that people should assist people. I think that when you come into a space and you don’t assist people, [maybe] you can easily attain a client, but retaining them is going to be hard, and I think that’s a difference, right? I wish a lot of the younger people that came into the space were more open to being a student first and not trying to become a professor.

CM: I also think that what we do is such an intimate thing. We’re getting people dressed. We’re in their homes, we’re in their hotel rooms. We’re with their families. Come as your authentic self and know that you have to do your best professionally — but also there’s a level of love that you have to put into it, and it’s not just about the clothes, but about the person, and about their goals and their aspirations. Make sure that you become a part of those conversations in a real, authentic way.

BH: It’s not just transactional. This is truly our passion. And we want to continue to work and just push for every person that comes after us.