Garcia

Bob Weir, a founding member of countercultural icons the Grateful Dead, known for his singular guitar playing, emotive singing and vibrant songwriting, has died at 78.

“It is with profound sadness that we share the passing of Bobby Weir,” a spokesperson for the musician confirmed to The Times. “He transitioned peacefully, surrounded by loved ones, after courageously beating cancer as only Bobby could. Unfortunately, he succumbed to underlying lung issues.”

Weir was diagnosed with cancer in July.

Weir-penned songs include Grateful Dead fan favorites “Sugar Magnolia,” “Jack Straw,” “Playing in the Band” and “Weather Report Suite.” His vocal performance on the rock-radio staple “Truckin’” counts among the band’s finest recorded moments.

The Dead released 13 studio albums with Weir, among them “Aoxomoxoa” (1969), “Workingman’s Dead” (1970), “American Beauty” (1970), “Wake of the Flood” (1973), “Terrapin Station” (1977) and 1987’s “In the Dark,” which featured the Top 10 single “Touch of Grey” and became the band’s highest-charting album, reaching No. 6 on the Billboard 200.

The Dead also released eight “official” live albums, as well as a long-running series of curated live shows known as Dick’s Picks and, later, Dave’s Picks. The band was the first to sanction fan taping at their concerts, spawning an abundance of homespun recordings that have been collected, traded and debated for decades.

Weir’s official role in the Grateful Dead was rhythm guitarist, alongside lead guitarist Jerry Garcia, but his complex style — marked by unique chord voicings, precise rhythms and a willingness to play through his bandmates instead of over them — elevated him from the standard rhythm player. “Bob’s approach to guitar playing is sort of like Bill Evans’ approach to piano was. He’s a total savant,” John Mayer told Guitar World magazine in 2017. “His take on guitar chords and comping is so original, it’s almost too original to be fully appreciated until you get deep down into what he’s doing. I think he’s invented his own vocabulary. … It’s a joyous thing to play along with.”

Weir’s first solo album, “Ace,” released in 1972, contained many songs that became standards in the Dead’s live show, including “Black-Throated Wind,” “Cassidy” and “Mexicali Blues.” “Blue Mountain,” Weir’s solo album from 2016, written in collaboration with musicians Josh Ritter and Josh Kaufman and inspired by Weir’s affinity for cowboy music and western iconography, became his highest-charting solo album, reaching No. 14 on the Billboard 200.

Weir also played in numerous side projects, post-Dead tribute acts and other rock bands, including Bob Weir & Wolf Bros, RatDog, Kingfish, Bobby and the Midnites, and the Weir, Robinson & Green Acoustic Trio with members of the Black Crowes. Dead & Company, featuring Weir, Dead bandmates Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann, bassist Oteil Burbridge, keyboardist Jeff Chimenti and singer-guitarist Mayer, kickstarted a Deadaissance in 2015, reviving the band’s music and tie-dye-wearing, hacky-sack-kicking aesthetic for legions of new and existing fans. The band’s final tour before an indefinite hiatus, in 2023, drew nearly 1 million people.

Weir also was a dedicated collaborator, inviting friends to perform with him or guesting on their records or in concert. Willie Nelson, Joan Baez, the Allman Brothers, Sammy Hagar, Nancy Wilson, Stephen Marley, Billy Strings, Tyler Childers, Sturgill Simpson, the National, Margo Price and nouveau jam act Goose counted among his many musical compatriots. “Music is like transcendental medication and Bob Weir is my spirit guide,” Price said on Instagram in 2022. Weir’s friendship with the itinerant folk singer Ramblin’ Jack Elliott began in the early 1960s, and in the new millennium, Elliott and Weir frequently performed low-key shows together in Marin County, where both resided.

Robert Hall Weir was born Oct. 16, 1947, in San Francisco to John Parber and Phyllis Inskeep, a college student who later gave him up for adoption. He was raised by adoptive parents Frederic Utter Weir and Eleanor (née Cramer) Weir in Atherton, Calif. Weir struggled as a child due to undiagnosed dyslexia and was kicked out of every school he attended, including the private Fountain Valley School in Colorado Springs, Colo., where he met John Perry Barlow, who would later contribute lyrics to the Grateful Dead.

Weir met Garcia on New Year’s Eve, 1963, at a Palo Alto music store, and soon formed the jug band Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions with Garcia and future Dead bandmate Ron “Pigpen” McKernan. Weir was just 16 years old. “There was some tension at home because I was neglecting my studies, and I grew up under the shadow of Hoover Tower,” Weir explained in an interview with Dan Rather. “My folks had Stanford in mind for me, not an itinerant troubadour. But they could also clearly see that I was following my bliss.”

About a year later, at McKernan’s urging, the trio, along with bassist Dana Morgan Jr. and drummer Kreutzmann, formed the Warlocks, an electric rock band, and played a handful of gigs before bassist Phil Lesh replaced Morgan. The group quickly discovered that a band called the Warlocks already existed and renamed themselves the Grateful Dead, a term Garcia found in a dictionary. Dead lyricist Robert Hunter and second drummer Hart joined the group in 1967.

As a member of the Dead, Weir was a kind of shape-shifting clairvoyant, creating ever-evolving sounds and forms that became essential to the fabric of American music culture. With the Dead, Weir was part of Ken Kesey’s Acid Tests in the mid-’60s, centered around experiments with LSD, and the band’s members were known to use nitrous oxide, marijuana, speed and heroin. The late ’70s launched an evident association with cocaine, and a period known as Disco Dead.

The band’s predilection for live improvisation, in which they refashioned and extended their songs via intuitive jams and imaginative transitions, drew legions of adoring fans — called Deadheads — who followed the band from city to city, and were the bedrock of the jam band movement that followed in the 1980s. The Dead’s graphic symbols, including “dancing” bears, the “Stealie” lightning skull and instrument-wielding terrapins, were plastered across innumerable merchandise and became a calling card of hippie-influenced counterculture over the ensuing decades.

Throughout the Dead’s existence, Weir was sometimes viewed as “the Other One” due to Garcia’s outsize presence in the band. Weir was its youngest member, and its most handsome. (Beautiful Bobby and the ugly brothers, the band used to joke.) He wrote and sang fewer songs than Garcia. But for others, Weir’s deference to Garcia — how he constructed a singular form of rhythm guitar playing to suit Garcia’s natural style, and used his deeper voice as a rich vocal counterpoint — was indicative of his generosity and willingness to put ego aside. In the 2014 documentary “The Other One: The Long Strange Trip of Bob Weir,” he said that he takes no pride in what he’s accomplished because he views pride as a “suspect emotion.”

Unlike his bandmates in the Dead, Weir had a long-running interest in personal style, and frequently opted for tucked-in button-down shirts, western wear and polo shirts instead of tie-dye and ponchos. “I just wanted to be kind of elegant,” he told GQ in 2019. “People were paying good money to see us, and at that time I figured that meant we ought to dress up a bit.” His denim cutoffs, which crept up in length over the years, were known as Bobby Shorts. Weir would grow his gray hair and beard into a style resembling actor Sam Elliott in the 1979 western “The Sacketts,” and began a collaboration with fashion designer James Perse that landed somewhere between cowboy and surfer.

Weir was single for most of his time in the Dead, and didn’t marry until 1999. With wife Natascha Münter, he had two daughters, Shala Monet Weir and Chloe Kaelia Weir. He was vegetarian for much of his life, and was passionate about animal rights, environmental causes and funding for the arts.

In interviews, Weir spoke of Eastern religion and philosophy, and his dreams, which dictated many decisions he made in his life. He frequently said in interviews that his relationship with Garcia never died, even after the Grateful Dead leader passed away in 1995. In 2012, Weir told Rolling Stone that Garcia “lives and breathes in me.”

“I see him in my dreams all the time,” he told the Huffington Post in 2014. “I would say I can’t talk to him, but I can. I don’t miss him. He’s here. He’s with me.”

Times staff writer Carlos De Loera contributed to this report.

As movies have morphed from a vibrant public event into a product we watch on our personal screens, film criticism has also been disrupted thanks to apps like Letterboxd. Fortunately, film critic A. S. Hamrah hasn’t gotten the memo. He is an insurrectionary voice in a time of critical complacency. Hamrah, who contributes reviews to Bookforum, n+1 and the Baffler, wields his pen like a flame thrower, lambasting Hollywood’s decline in a trenchant voice spiked with barbed wit while also shining a light on great marginalized films.

Hamrah has recently published two new books: a collection of his reviews called “Algorithm of the Night,” as well as a compilation of Hollywood news items called “Last Week in End Times Cinema” that reads like a doom scroll of cultural decay. I chatted with Hamrah about Marvel, Pauline Kael and AI.

✍️ Author Chat

A. S. Hamrah is a film critic and author of the recently published books “Algorithm of the Night” and “Last Week in End Times Cinema.”

(Courtesy of A. S. Hamrah)

Both of these books really describe the end of an era for movies, what you call the end of a worldview. What do you mean by that?

I think the goal of the studios, Netflix in particular, is not just to end theatrical exhibition but to end a certain way of understanding the cinema and to just turn it into television. The merger of cinema and television is very bad for cinema.

In the past, when existential threats of film reared their head, whether it was television or videocassette recorders, there was a sense of movies having to work harder to maintain its supremacy. But if everything is film, then there is no countervailing force. It all just merges into one thing.

People who watch a lot of TV were seen as kind of not really up to life in some ways. But it was never the goal of TV to crush cinema, which is the case now. Someone like Ted Sarandos at Netflix, his whole thing is based on pretending that no one likes to go to the movies anymore, when, in fact, millions of people all over the world love going to the movies.

I feel like your criticism is not about thumbs up, thumbs down. Even when you write a negative review, it’s fun to argue against it. You are creating a dialogue with your readers.

I don’t write a negative review to stop people from seeing a film. I want them to see it and make up their own mind about it. I also really try to avoid writing anything that can be extrapolated for a movie ad. I don’t want my stuff to be taken out of context and thrown onto a movie poster.

“Algorithm of the Night” is a collection of reviews by film critic A. S. Hamrah.

(Courtesy of A. S. Hamrah)

What critics inspired you?

Andrew Sarris and Pauline Kael. The writer who had the biggest influence on me is Manny Farber, for the way he thinks about things and the freedom of his writing.

“Last Week in End Times Cinema” is the most depressing book I read last year, just a desultory litany of headlines about movie reboots, the creeping influence of AI on film, and so on.

When I first started publishing these, people thought I was making them up. I started culling them with great joy and mirth, but as the year progressed, with the wildfires in LA, the whole project became much more dire. And the death of David Lynch was a real blow, I thought.

You take a dim view of AI.

It seems to be Hollywood’s goal to not have any human beings involved in filmmaking. Why pay Will Smith $20 million when you can have an AI voice? But they’ve been preparing the ground for this since the beginning of the century. It feels like the whole system of production of Marvel films is already a form of AI. They’re trying to educate audiences into liking garbage, and that is what I mean when I write about the death of a worldview.

What films did you like last year?

“The Secret Agent,” “The Mastermind,” “Bugonia.” I saw “One Battle After Another” twice. There’s plenty of good commercial films that people can see in theaters, but the media acts like they don’t exist.

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

📰 The Week(s) in Books

“One of the reasons I decided to focus on Orange County is that it’s not the norm — not what you think of as the Deep South. It’s Disneyland. It’s California,” author Eric Lichtblau says.

(Photos by Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times, Little Brown Company)

Costa Bevan Pappas has a chat with Eric Litchtblau about his new book “American Reich,” which explores the roots of white supremacy in Orange County. “One of the reasons I decided to focus on Orange County is that it’s not the norm — not what you think of as the Deep South,” Lichtblau tells Pappas. “It’s Disneyland. It’s California. These are people who are trying to take back America from the shores of Orange County because it’s gotten too brown in their view.”

Xialou Guo has crafted a radical remix of “Moby Dick” titled “Call Me Ishmaelle,” and Leanne Ogasawara is enchanted: “There is so much pleasure to be had in rereading old favorites — and part of the joy is meeting beloved characters, who have been updated or somehow arrive in a new form to resist old tropes and types.”

A year after the wildfires, L.A. native Jacob Soboroff has written “Firestorm,” and he sat down with Mariella Rudi to discuss the first book to be written about the calamity. “For me, it’s a much more personal book,” Soboroff says. “It’s about experiencing what I came to understand as the fire of the future. It’s about people as much as politics.”

Finally, Bethanne Patrick gives us the lowdown on January’s must-read book, while Eva Recinos gives us the five best science books of 2025.

📖 Bookstore Faves

Josh Spencer, owner of the Last Bookstore in downtown Los Angeles, opened a second location of the book store at 4437 Lankershim Blvd.

(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Ever since it opened a little over a year ago, Josh Spencer’s second edition of The Last Bookstore has grown a vibrant community of Valley-dwelling book lovers hungry for a store that sells newly published titles and a curated selection of second-hand gems. I chatted with store manager Shane Danielson about what customers are excited about right now.

What’s selling right now at the Valley store?

Right now film adaptations current and upcoming are driving a lot of our fiction sales – “Frankenstein,” Pynchon’s “Vineland” (for “One Battle After Another”), “Wuthering Heights.” Certain “brand name” authors always do well: Brandon Sanderson, Stephen King, Kurt Vonnegut. But generally, our stock is so diverse that it’s hard to spot broader trends.

What kind of community has gathered around the store?

We have a growing community of literate, curious, frequently funny, often politically-engaged readers and book lovers, both young and not-so-young, who see reading and things like book groups as an act of resistance to the dominant culture. They want to turn off their screens for a while, and give themselves over to the longer narrative and deeper pleasures that a book provides.

What specific genres are popular?

Plays and books about acting sell every day – unsurprising, since we’re close to the Warner Bros. and Universal studios as well as two local theatre schools. Horror, science fiction and fantasy are perennials; and an increasing number of women, presumably disillusioned with real-world dating options, are enthusiastic consumers of “romantasy” authors like Rebecca Yarros and Sarah J. Maas. Classics also do surprisingly well: people seem to be reading an awful lot of Dostoevsky and George Orwell and Jane Austen. Which is encouraging.

We know how difficult it is in this culture to make folks care about books. Do you still find in people that desire — to read, and to explore through books? Are people still curious to learn about the world via books as opposed to ChatGPT?

Many of our customers say they treasure the physicality of a book – its heft, the tactility of the pages – as opposed to the frictionless experience of reading on a Kindle or another device. And interestingly, they all say variations on the same thing, which is that those other reading experiences just don’t stick; for whatever reason, they don’t retain much of what they’ve read afterward.

The Last Bookstore in Studio City is located in 4437 Lankershim Blvd.

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

Leave it to slow cinema auteur Lav Diaz (2013’s four-hour “Norte, The End of History”) to serve you colonialism in real time, in all its stark ugliness and mind-curdling greed, but also alongside a sense of wonderment. The Filipino filmmaker’s 163-minute epic “Magellan,” starring Gael García Bernal as the 16th century Portuguese explorer, is a regimen and a cure simultaneously, correcting a conqueror narrative that has too often centered on excitement and unfettered might over the madness of such endeavors.

With a breathtaking eye for one-shot scenes and unwavering confidence in the demands he makes on our monkey-brained attention spans, Diaz has crafted a stunning piece of time travel, its languidness and exquisitely hued imagery working in perfect sync. As arthouse fare goes, “Magellan” counts as accessible if you’re familiar with Diaz’s stately, intimate work, but also serves as an ideal introduction to his uncompromising vision.

A nude Indigenous woman rummages in a picturesque rainforest river, then collapses in shock at something witnessed off camera. “I saw a white man!” she warns her people. Shortly after, we see horrific tableaux of slaughtered bodies on the bloodied, gently lapping shores and verdant inland of the Malaysian peninsula, which was conquered by the Portuguese in 1511.

Ferdinand Magellan (Bernal) was then only a cog in his country’s subjugation machinery, but this crewman has ambitions for future campaigns. They’re not necessarily aligned with his superiors’ venal greed, expressed feverishly in a victory speech by a hammered conquistador: “We will suffocate the entire world! Islam will finally disappear!” (Then he passes out.) But as we’ll eventually see, the need to dominate does things to men’s souls.

A few years later, scorned by the king, Magellan is limping around Lisbon like a scruffy, taskless animal. He eventually finds favor with Spain for his grand journey, mapping an uncharted route to the East’s spice islands, which means leaving behind his pregnant wife, Beatriz (Angela Azevedo). That legendary multiyear circumnavigation, a 45-minute sequence marked by paranoia, hallucinations, death, disease, starvation, groaning silence and crushing despair, makes for one of the most casually brutal depictions of transoceanic voyaging ever committed to film. Mesmerizingly severe yet still streaked with glimpses of natural beauty, the sequence practically trains you to listen for the seabirds that spark the eventual scream of “Land!” Devoid of music or melodrama, this is slow cinema at its most viscerally rigorous and patient.

It also sets up the acute psychology that drives Magellan: obsessive curiosity warping into enforced Christian conversion, a consequential folly to which the filmmaker adds his own historical take. Up till then, Bernal, without the conventional assistance of close-ups, registers this feature-length change with brilliant subtlety across Diaz’s and co-cinematographer Artur Tort’s captivating, distanced long takes, often marked by angled perspectives.

Magellan’s occupier’s mentality is pointedly contrasted with the movie’s other key figure, Enrique (Arjay Babon), whose journey from purchased Malay slave to assimilated translator is a harrowing portrait of unrooted ache. Spiritual wailing is common in “Magellan,” whether from Enrique in his moments alone or from the invaded Indigenous pleading for help, or back in Portugal, from the black-clad wives who line the beach, waiting for word of their husbands’ fate. Time stretches punishingly throughout this masterful “Magellan,” foregrounding the painful legacy of colonialism and prioritizing a raw splendor that can never truly be conquered.

NASHVILLE, Tenn. — A newly unsealed order in the criminal case against Kilmar Abrego Garcia reveals that high-level Justice Department officials pushed for his indictment, calling it a “top priority,” only after he was mistakenly deported and then ordered returned to the U.S.

Abrego Garcia has pleaded not guilty in federal court in Tennessee to charges of human smuggling. He is seeking to have the case dismissed on the grounds that the prosecution is vindictive — a way for President Trump’s administration to punish him for the embarrassment of his mistaken deportation.

To support that argument, he has asked the government to turn over documents that reveal how the decision was made to prosecute him in 2025 for an incident that occurred in 2022. On Dec. 3, U.S. District Judge Waverly Crenshaw filed an order under seal that compelled the government to provide some documents to Abrego Garcia and his attorneys. That order was unsealed on Tuesday and sheds new light on the case.

Earlier, Crenshaw found that there was “some evidence” that the prosecution of Abrego Garcia could be vindictive. He specifically cited a statement by Deputy Atty. Gen. Todd Blanche on a Fox News program that seemed to suggest that the Department of Justice charged Abrego Garcia because he had won his wrongful deportation case.

Rob McGuire, who was the acting U.S. Atty. for the Middle District of Tennessee until late December, argued that those statements were irrelevant because he alone made the decision to prosecute, and he has no animus against Abrego Garcia.

In the newly unsealed order, Crenshaw writes, “Some of the documents suggest not only that McGuire was not a solitary decision-maker, but he in fact reported to others in DOJ and the decision to prosecute Abrego may have been a joint decision.”

The U.S. attorney’s office for the Middle District of Tennessee released a statement saying, “The emails cited in Judge Crenshaw’s order, specifically Mr. McGuire’s email on May 15, 2025, confirm that the ultimate decision on whether to prosecute was made by career prosecutors based on the facts, evidence, and established DOJ practice. Communications with the Deputy Attorney General’s Office about a high-profile case are both required and routine.”

The email referenced was from McGuire to his staff stating that Blanche “would like Garcia charged sooner rather than later,” according to Crenshaw’s order.

The human smuggling charges stem from a 2022 traffic stop in Tennessee in which Abrego Garcia was pulled over for speeding. There were nine passengers in the car, and state troopers discussed the possibility of human smuggling among themselves. However, he was ultimately allowed to leave with only a warning. The case was turned over to Homeland Security Investigations, but there is no record of any effort to charge him until April 2025, according to court records.

The order does not give a lot of detail on what is in the documents that were turned over to Abrego Garcia, but it shows that Aakash Singh, who works under Blanche in the Office of the Deputy Attorney General, contacted McGuire about Abrego Garcia’s case on April 27, the same day that McGuire received a file on the case from Homeland Security Investigations. That was several days after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Abrego Garcia’s favor on April 10.

On April 30, Singh said in an email to McGuire that the prosecution was a “top priority” for the Deputy Attorney General’s Office, according to the order. Singh and McGuire continued to communicate about the prosecution. On May 18, Singh wrote to McGuire and others to hold the draft indictment until they got “clearance” to file it. “The implication is that ‘clearance’ would come from the Office of the Deputy Attorney General,” Crenshaw writes.

A hearing on the motion to dismiss the case on the basis of vindictive prosecution is scheduled for Jan. 28.

Loller writes for the Associated Press.

A federal judge this week canceled the trial of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the Salvadoran man who was mistakenly deported by the Trump administration, and scheduled a hearing on whether the prosecution is being vindictive in pursuing a human smuggling case against him.

Abrego Garcia has become a centerpiece of the debate over immigration after the Trump administration deported him in March to a notorious prison in El Salvador. Facing mounting public pressure and a court order, the Trump administration brought him back to the U.S. in June, but only after issuing an arrest warrant on human smuggling charges in Tennessee.

Abrego Garcia has denied the allegations, and argued that prosecutors are vindictively and selectively targeting him. Judge Waverly D. Crenshaw Jr. wrote in Tuesday’s order that Abrego Garcia had provided enough evidence to hold a hearing on the topic, which Crenshaw scheduled for Jan. 28.

At that hearing, prosecutors will have to explain their reasoning for charging Abrego Garcia, Crenshaw wrote, and if they fail in that, the charges could be dismissed.

When Abrego Garcia was pulled over in 2022, there were nine passengers in the car, and the officers discussed among themselves their suspicions of smuggling. But Abrego Garcia was eventually allowed to continue driving with only a warning.

A Department of Homeland Security agent previously testified that he did not begin investigating the traffic stop until after the U.S. Supreme Court said in April that the Trump administration had to work to bring Abrego Garcia from El Salvador, where he was deported.

Years earlier, Abrego Garcia had been granted protection from deportation to his home country after a judge found he faced danger there from a gang that targeted his family. That order allowed Abrego Garcia, who has an American wife and child, to live and work in the U.S. under Immigration and Customs Enforcement supervision.

The Trump administration has accused Abrego Garcia of being a member of the MS-13 gang. He has denied the accusations and has no criminal record.

Abrego Garcia’s defense attorney and the U.S. attorney’s office in Nashville did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

Bedayn writes for the Associated Press.

Dec. 22 (UPI) — A federal judge on Monday allowed Kilmar Abrego Garcia to remain free through Christmas as she barred Immigration and Customs Enforcement from re-detaining the Salvadoran native.

U.S. District Judge Paula Xinis in Maryland extended a temporary restraining order to keep federal officials from deporting Abrego Garcia, after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled he was deported and imprisoned in March without legal authority to El Salvador.

“This is an extremely irregular and extraordinary situation,” Xinnis told attorneys Monday, as she pressed the government on whether it would detain Abrego Garcia if there were no restraining order.

“Show your work, that’s all,” Xinis said. “Give it to me and we don’t have to speculate.”

Abrego Garcia was released from ICE detention on Dec. 11, following efforts to deport him to an African nation where he has no connection.

“Because Abrego Garcia has been held in ICE detention to effectuate third-country removal absent a lawful removal order, his requested relief is proper,” according to Xinis.

The U.S. Department of Homeland Security called Xinis’ rulings “naked judicial activism by an Obama-appointed judge.”

Abrego Garcia, who illegally entered the United States nearly 15 years ago, has accused the White House of vindictive prosecution. The administration has called him an MS-13 gang member, which he denies.

Abrego Garcia had been living in Maryland with his wife and children before being deported to El Salvador’s CECOT mega-prison in March. He was returned to the United States in June and is awaiting trial on human smuggling charges in Tennessee. He has pleaded not guilty.

On Monday, Abrego Garcia’s attorneys said he is prepared to go to Costa Rica, which the judge said the government refuses to consider.

The “persistent refusal to acknowledge Costa Rica as a viable removal option, their threats to send Abrego to African countries that never agreed to take him and their misrepresentation to the court that Liberia is now the only country available to Abrego, all reflect that whatever purpose was behind his detention, it was not for the ‘basic purpose’ of timely third-country removal,” Xinis wrote.

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

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

✍️ Author Chat

Djaimilia Pereira de Almeida is author of “Three Stories of Forgetting,” a new novel exploring the legacies of slavery, colonialism, and the Portuguese Empire.

(Humberto Brito)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

📰 The Week(s) in Books

Carolyn Kellogg, Bethanne Patrick and Mark Athitakis select the best books of the year for The Times.

(Photo illustration by Josep Prat Sorolla / For The Times; book jackets from Scribner, Riverhead and Penguin Press)

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

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

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

📖 Bookstore Faves

Apollo, one of two bookstore cats, sleeping in a box at the Iliad bookstore in North Hollywood.

(Gerard Burkhart / For The Times)

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

What is selling in the Christmas rush this year?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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