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Patton Oswalt is an avid reader. When he thinks about his ideal Sunday in the Valley, where he has lived for more than a decade, bookstores come up more than a few times, particularly ones like the neighborhood staple the Iliad, which encourages patrons to sit and read for hours.

Currently, the 57-year-old comedian says he is rereading Mo Daviau’s 2016 time-travel/rock-nerd novel “Every Anxious Wave,” the plot to which he “truly can’t describe,” adding: “It’s about, especially for me, how does Gen X grow old? And how do they try to dodge growing old? It’s pretty f— brilliant. Imagine a day just killing two or three hours in the Iliad just reading it. Oh, it’s the best.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

Not that Oswalt always has time to sprawl out with a novel. Like any touring comedian of his caliber, he admits that his schedule is constantly in flux. Not only did he spend last summer and fall promoting his 10th stand-up hour, “Black Coffee and Ice Water” (out now on Audible), but he is constantly at work on new material. On June 9, he’s launching “Tea & Scotch” on YouTube, which delves into more observational comedy subjects such as ghost-seeing cats, AI paranoia and parenting a teenager. (Oswalt tells The Times that his daughter usually does her own thing on weekends, but sometimes they’ll journey to Burbank and hit the vintage shops on Magnolia, followed by poke for lunch.)

When he’s not earmarking time in his perfect Sunday for reading, Oswalt also delights in frequenting Valley small businesses that fully embrace the indie and oddball. “I like where the Valley’s going. I like how its residents are aging,” says Oswalt. “Because they’re aging into weirdness rather than safety, which is what I will always go for. Instead of just, ‘I want the nice, reliable chain restaurant, the nice, big book chain,’ I prefer smaller shops that take risks. They’re more quirky, an actual person works here, and the imperfections are what makes it amazing.”

Below, Oswalt shares his ideal Sunday in L.A., which sometimes begins later than he’d like it to.

7 a.m.: Enjoy a quiet breakfast at home

I try to be an early riser. Today I got up at 8:30, but a great day for me is getting up at 7, because I have that hour of quiet to have my breakfast, sip some tea, do some reading, and then start my day.

But it’s hard to have a lot of those mornings in a row, because unfortunately, I also have those nights where I’m just, like, lying awake thinking. I have those crash-out days where I’m like, “Sleep until noon today! Need it! Gotta catch up.” Anyone who says that they consistently wake up at 7 a.m., for the most part, they’re probably lying.

9 a.m.: Morning coffee with a side of people watching

What’s critical about the Valley, especially Studio City, is a lot of hipsters who have aged out of Los Feliz and Silver Lake have all moved here, and they brought the good sushi, the good bookstores and the good coffee with them. So, my perfect Sunday starts at the Studio City Farmers Market. You do this kind of roaming breakfast. Where they do the farmers market, there’s an amazing tamale stand that does these chicken and green chile tamales. You get one of those, and then you go over to Joan’s on Third, and you get yourself a really strong cup of coffee, because Joan’s is right there, part of the farmers market.

It’s almost like Joan’s is the motor on a sailboat. If you can’t find the food that you like roaming around the farmers market, you can hop into Joan’s and grab something, but that’s where the good coffee is. Then you get a thing of berries from one of the sellers, and you sit. There are musicians everywhere, and it is a really good opportunity to not start your day looking at a screen and instead actually look at beautiful and flawed and imperfect and awesome people moving around and interacting. For a comedian or writer, that is gold.

11 a.m.: Worm into a book

From there, I would go up to the Last Bookstore, which just opened a location on Lankershim Boulevard in NoHo. It’s a work in progress; you can see the beginnings of the cool building that they’re doing on the interior. It’s almost like when you watch the Talking Heads’ “Stop Making Sense” and you see them assemble the stage as the concert goes on. It’s kind of amazing. So I always drop by there and spend way too much money on a book.

1 p.m.: Catch a matinee (and a matcha)

One of my favorite things is to see a movie in the afternoon. The Laemmle NoHo 7 on Lankershim is my little ’90s throwback Sunset 5, but in the Valley. They show very cool first-run indie movies, and then they will just randomly throw in [a classic], “Oh yeah, we’re showing ‘Jules and Jim.’” I just check my Fandango, to see what they’re showing in the afternoon, then I go see a movie.

I don’t really eat lunch these days, but across the street from the NoHo 7 is a place called Horror Vibes Coffee. It’s all based around horror movies. It’s weirdly popular. All these goth kids go in there, and they make really good matchas. So I’ll go in there, I’ll get a matcha, and then take that into the movie theater, see a flick. The Laemmle NoHo 7 does make really good chicken nuggets, and they do make a really, really bad for you — but delicious — bagel dog. Listen, a bagel dog with a recent indie movie? That’s mwah. [Gestures a chef’s kiss.]

4 p.m.: Head back to the bookstore

When I’m done at the movies, I will take whatever book I’ve gotten and go back down to the Last Bookstore and just sit and read. Or if you really want to go goblin-mode reading, you go to the Iliad Bookshop on Cahuenga. They encourage you just to go in there, sit, read. There are store cats everywhere that are hanging around, and the store kitties are very friendly. The Iliad has these big, overstuffed couches and chairs with blown springs. You are encouraged to sit and lounge and read. They have no problem with you doing that. A big thing for me now is having two to three uninterrupted hours of just reading. No phone, no nothing. Don’t gotta go anywhere. Don’t do anything. [Editor’s note: The Iliad is closed Sundays.]

6 p.m.: Sit down for some sushi

I’m very spoiled living in the Valley, because I live near amazing sushi. If I really want to splurge out and have what I think is the best sushi in the Valley, then I visit Sushi Tomoki, which is on Cahuenga. I just cannot rave about this place enough. They have a black cod sushi, and the black cod is slightly seared. It’s not cold, but it’s not totally cooked. There is something about cold rice and then this slightly seared, slightly burned black cod. The flavor is so perfect, I love it.

Right now, in the Valley, I’m kind of spoiled for good restaurants. There’s OyBar on Moorpark that I could go to. I go there right at 5. Otherwise there’s a line. I go right when they open. And then there’s a place called Wood & Water, further up Ventura, kind of closer to Sherman Oaks. That place is just solid, good. Everything on the menu is great, great wine list, you know. But the word is out — it’s getting crowded. Not to be a snot rag, but I go to Wood & Water so much that they kind of know me there, and they can usually get me a table. Not that I’m a big celeb, it’s just I go there a lot because their food is so good.

Once you’re my age, when I hear, “You gotta wait in line”… like, that’s why I’ve never been to Sqirl. Because I know I can’t do that, man. If I’m gonna stand in line, I’m gonna go to All Time, but I’ll just get there when they open. I can’t do lines anymore. You can do it when you’re 20, but I just want my g— breakfast.

8 p.m.: Take an outdoor stroll, then return to your book

After dinner, if it’s summertime in the Valley, I just walk through my neighborhood. There’s really good hills and stuff to go for, like, a nice nighttime walk after dinner. Or, because I’m such a freaking bookworm, I go home and sit on my big, comfy couch and just read some more until I fall asleep. There’s nothing wrong with double-dipping — you don’t have to read just once during the day. You can go back and forth.

Xavier Becerra needed to land a knockout punch, even more so than the five other candidates for California governor he was facing at Wednesday night’s debate.

Instead, he fired off some slaps.

He needed to roar about his many accomplishments in his 35-year career in Sacramento and Washington, to distinguish himself from the relative political neophytes around him.

Instead, Becerra recited his resume with the vigor of someone rattling off his LinkedIn page.

He needed to uplift Californians with a vision of hope, when many feel the state is going in the wrong direction.

Instead, he offered the oratory equivalent of a pat on the shoulder.

No candidate had more at stake that night than Becerra, who went from an afterthought to a contender after Eric Swalwell dropped out and resigned his congressional seat over sexual assault allegations.

Five weeks ago, Becerra and other candidates of color were protesting their exclusion from a USC debate because they were all polling so low. Now, the 68-year-old has a chance to become California’s first Latino governor.

This possibility seems to have uncorked California’s silent majority — the rancho libertarians turned off by hard-right politics but also the wokoso politics they feel have left them behind. The people who yearn for an unglamorous, competent leader after eight years of all-about-me Gavin Newsom and a decade of Donald Trump.

Becerra’s campaign, once as rudderless as a leaf in a river in a race so chaotic for Democrats that many feared two Republicans would win on June 2 and face each other in the general election, suddenly latched onto a palpable wave.

At the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books last weekend, I saw people sporting Becerra campaign buttons who had just come from a rally that was expected to draw a few hundred but instead had over 2,000 RSVPs. On social media, friends who had never especially cared for state politics suddenly declared they were for Becerra and fought off their more lefty pals who think he’s a Latino Ned Flanders not up for this fraught moment.

Unglamorous and competent are Becerra’s middle names, and they were on display at the debate — for better and mostly worse. This was his chance to show both his new followers and undecided voters that they could trust him as California’s next governor.

But where he needed to be limber like a prizefighter, the former California attorney general was as tightly wound as a Rolex.

While the other candidates pressed their palms against the podiums, ready to pounce on every question, Becerra clasped his hands like an altar boy. When he did gesture, his movements never went further than the span of his shoulders.

As the others grinned and grimaced at their rivals’ responses, Becerra was as stone-faced as Buster Keaton. He stumbled more than he should have — how could someone in his position mistake Iraq for Iran when criticizing Trump’s Middle East quagmire? — and rarely seemed at ease, as if the weight of the moment and the good luck of his surge had suddenly hit him at the worst possible time.

Candidates in California’s gubernatorial race, from left, Matt Mahan, Xavier Becerra, Chad Bianco, and Steve Hilton look on during a debate Wednesday, April 22, 2026, in San Francisco.

(Jason Henry / Associated Press)

Becerra’s supporters say a level-headed leader is what California needs. But voters almost never go for what they need — they pick what they want. And California wants someone who’s loud, or at least louder than Becerra. There’s a reason why strident partisans like Republicans Chad Bianco and Steve Hilton and progressives Tom Steyer and Katie Porter have consistently placed high in the polls, while moderates like Becerra, his frenemy Antonio Villaraigosa and San Jose mayor Matt Mahan have lagged.

The weird thing is that Becerra does know how to brawl. Wallflowers don’t go from a working class Mexican immigrant family to Stanford Law School. Wimps don’t survive the ruthlessness of Eastside politics as an outsider to become a congressmember at just 34. Cowards don’t file over 100 lawsuits against the Trump administration as California’s top prosecutor or tackle the coronavirus pandemic as President Biden’s health secretary.

I’ve only encountered the Sacramento native a few times but always came away impressed. In small crowds, he makes people laugh and tear up. He’s quick with ripostes, righteous in off-the-cuff remarks and has a do-gooder aura that never comes off as sanctimonious.

We saw hints of that Becerra at the debate. To Hilton, he quipped, “You can be a talking head and not worry about the consequences of what you do” after the former Fox News host babbled on about how one-party ruled had failed California.

After Porter accused him of not offering hard numbers for his economic plans, Becerra responded that he has balanced federal budgets larger than California’s. “It’s easy to say you haven’t done this; it’s easier to prove that you actually have,” he concluded.

But after Becerra described the evils of racial profiling by law enforcement and Bianco, the sheriff of Riverside County, ranted that California politicians need to stop thinking so much about race, it was Porter who responded with a verbal haymaker as Becerra silently looked on.

You don’t fight as a choirboy in a battle royale. Becerra wasn’t bad at the debate but he also wasn’t great — and that won’t win this race.

Voters want someone who’ll do the job, yes — especially if it comes with no drama. They also want to elect someone they think is a human, not a joyless bureaucrat. So how did Becerra respond to the debate’s last question about what was the last series you’ve streamed?

Becerra flashed his biggest smile of the night. It was such a softball query that even a kindergartener could have slammed it à la Shohei Ohtani.

“I wish I could tell you I had time to watch streaming shows,” he replied.

Dude. We’re all overworked, but everyone I know unwinds by watching mindless drivel (my current obsession is “Vanderpump Villa”). We all need to relax, even for a moment. As my dad says when he sees me filing one columna after another and urges me to take a break, “El trabajo nunca se acaba pero uno sí se acaba.”

Work never ends, but people do.

Xavier, you know you’re on the wrong side of California when the only other candidate with a similar answer was Bianco, who said he doesn’t watch television at all.

Being careful has served you well, but this is the greatest opportunity of your life. You don’t have to suddenly become a flamethrower, but some sparks would help. It’s six weeks until the primary, so time to throw down — channel your inner cholo and go get what should be yours.