new book

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

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

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

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

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

(Crown)

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

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

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

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

Author Anna Holmes.

(Annie Noelker / For The Times)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crunch, crunch.”

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

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

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

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

(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)

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

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

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

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

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

(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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