We got a last minute call from our friends that they were going to the Griffith Park Observatory in the late afternoon.  We had made no plans, as we had such a busy week and weren’t thinking that far ahead.  We had two baseball practices today, but never mind that part.  What I didn’t realize is that once a month, independent sky-viewers bring their telescopes out on the lawn in front of the observatory and allow the rest of us hoi polloi to look through the viewfinders at the heavens.  The moon was at quarter full, so it was not bright enough to interfere with the light of the stars.  And looking at the moon itself was spectacular.  Also we got to look at the Orion nebula.  The big telescope in the observatory itself was trained on Venus, and I learned today that, like the moon, the planets inside our orbit around the sun also go through phases, which makes perfect sense, when you think about it.  What a swell evening.  Thank you Scott and Chelsea for inviting us along.  

I have Bach violin sonatas playing in the background, with Hayden string quartets coming up.  Life is busy.  The hockey game last night was fun.  The Blackhawks looked sleepy or sodden or something, while the Kings seemed determined and played some amazing defense around the net.  Liz had to go to the set last night late and wasn’t home until 1:30.  I got the boys off to school and walked for an hour, met her on the street coming home, and walked with her another forty minutes.  That’s when we get to have our long discussions about our days, our sons, and everything else.  I recommend a daily walk with your spouse — keeps the lines of communication open.  We’re at 24 years and counting.  Okay, you take a look at her and figure she must have been twelve when I married her.  Or six.  Lucky Dave. 

We went to the Fox Searchlight party last night in Brentwood, celebrating the good year for the division (Slumdog Millionaire, Secret Life of Bees, Notorious), and, dare I say it?  We had fun.  This was, perhaps, a surprise, in that now that I’m ‘outta the business’ (so to speak, thank you Harvey Miller), it’s kind of a pleasure to BE out of the business.  No more interior monologues (why didn’t I get that job?  how come he’s writing that movie?  why is she so happy, her movie sucked — okay, I’m exaggerating to make you laugh).  Grumble grumble grumble, mutiny mutiny mutiny (name that reference!  I’ll try to remember to post its derivation tomorrow — if not, remind me).  These parties often are filled with those who have to be there, or are schmoozing to get their next job, or are trying to make sure they are seen so that they can hold on to the job they already have.  But this party seemed more relaxed (maybe I was more relaxed because I didn’t need a job), and Liz and I had really nice conversations with a series of lovely humans, people we like.  We even stayed later than we expected, who can believe that of the Queen of Sleep and her Cranky-About-Parties husband? 

Tonight I’m going to the hockey game with my buddy Steve Smith, see the Blackhawks play the Kings.  Hockey is one of those sports that has to be seen in person.  It loses too much on TV.  Although it was pretty cool to watch Wrigley Field turn into an ice rink.  That game I watched.  Of course, having heard about how well the Hawks have been doing this year, they lost that game, the one game I have seen all year. 

I seem to be going on and on.  I have been told that I can’t tell a short story. 

I recommend talking to book groups about your book.  It is a way to remind us how intelligent and thoughtful human beings can be.  I fielded thoughtful and probing questions, and was many times forced to consider things that I had not considered in the past, no matter how many times I have spoken to groups.  There is always, it seems, a new and fresh perspective on the work.  I have been lucky to encounter such agile minds. 

I want to add a special thanks to Alice Palmer and Diane Leslie for being moderators of the groups.  Moderating a book group is a difficult, sometimes nerve wracking, and very time consuming job.  I think those who do it deserve great applause and special recognition. 

Today I will be speaking on the phone to Alice Palmer’s book group in New Jersey (in just  few minutes, actually).  I met Alice in a book store in Torrance last fall, she bought the book and made it her choice for book group.  I am very excited and pleased to get to speak with her again, along with her friends. 

This evening I will be speaking in person to Diane Leslie’s book group at Diesel Bookstore, which just recently opened up in Brentwood (walking distance) at the Brentwood Country Mart.  I met Diane at the Southern California Independent Booksellers dinner, and she carried my book on her trip to China. 

This is the fun part of my work, almost as much fun as writing, as I get to relive the writing experience and talk about how the book was written.  I often learn more than I expect, as different questioners will bring out some piece of information of which I had not necessarily thought. 

So this will be one of the fun days!  Probably not going to get a lot of work done today, but, hey, sometimes it’s good to have fun. 

I just received this wonderful email from Connie Goetz at Village Books, and I just had to share:

For those of you who love the staff reviews in the store, you may not know we have them available on our website.  Click here to find out what we are reading and loving.  For example,  Connie recently read Sweetsmoke by David Fuller which was just nominated for an Edgar Allen Poe Award for Best First Novel by An American Author.  Connie wrote:

I enjoy reading historical fiction. I find that a well-written book imparts not only historical information but the atmosphere and climate and attitudes and emotions of a period as well.  Sweetsmoke, the name of a tobacco plantation, and David Fuller’s debut novel, is a beautifully written and well-researched book that I highly recommend to anyone who loves to read.  Sweetsmoke is set during the Civil War and is the story of Cassius, a slave around 30 years old whose owner named him for a character from Shakespeare.  Cassius is an extraordinary human being in spite of all the horrors he has lived through and observed.  The book is not only historical, but is also a mystery and a love story.  Cassius, a skilled carpenter, risks everything to find out who murdered Emoline, a freed slave who had secretly taught him to read and who once saved his life.  His determination and honesty and perseverance and intelligence and loving heart and  bravery are amazing - he is a character you grow to know and respect.  I could not wait to get back to the page;  I needed to find out what happens next and I cared about Cassius a lot!  Your mind and your heart are fully engaged. This is a terrific read.

We’re off to work out with our private coach (we being optimistic… it’s for the boys, not me) in the morning, hoping the drizzle will hold off (and it looks like it will), then this afternoon, Little League Tryout make-ups.  These were postponed from yesterday when it was actually raining.  The boys will come for the beginning of it, then Mom will take them for their piano lesson.  Piano teacher has been in and out of town (I think Italy was mentioned), and this is their first lesson since pre Christmas break.  But they’ve been practicing. 

I will miss the draft on Tuesday, as I will be speaking to Diane Leslie’s book group, gathering at the new Diesel Bookstore in the Brentwood Country Mart.  Earlier on Tuesday, I will be phoning Alice Palmer’s book group in New Jersey.  So I’ll be talkin’ Cassius all day. 

A message to our new coach, Cris Rosales:  Make good choices! 

Regular readers of this blog (I know you’re out there… wait, I think I hear someone, yes, there’s a sound out there, it’s the sound of breathing that I hear over the noise of the distantly chirping crickets) will soon be, ahem, treated to my ongoing ‘affection’ for the Chicago White Sox.  ‘Affection’ is a funny word, and ‘obsession’ is incorrect other than the fact that I have to check in on them, sort of like picking at a scab.  You will hear more about it because it will become my distraction, almost my hobby, as I research and write the next novel.  The next novel will have nothing whatsoever to do with baseball, by the way.  It will not be a sequel to Sweetsmoke.  But it will be historical fiction (and that’s all you’re gonna get, for now).

No, the reason you will hear more about the Sox is that I now have a fellow sufferer in the White House.  I know that whatever frustrations and irritations I feel about my (argh) beloved team will be shared by a gentleman who has actual power.  Not that he’ll have the power to do anything about the team, mind you.  But just knowing the team will be irritating him as well is something of a balm. 

I’ve been a White Sox fan since I was three years old.  My entire family are Cubs fans.  I gather that speaks to the fact that I was contrary even then.  But more on this later.  Or, rather, moron this later. 

Silly careless White Sox.  So who’d they sign…?  Who’s going to be their fifth pitcher?  Who’s going to lead off this year? 

* Shades of Gray by Jessica James

* The King’s Daughter, by Sandra Worth

* Sweetsmoke by David Fuller

* Miles from Nowhere, by Nami Mun

* The Common Bond, by Donigan Merritt

* The Glimmer Palace, by Beatrice Colin

* A Thousand Veils by D.J. Murphy

* The Translator, by Daoud Hari

* Tears of the Desert: A Memoir of Survival in Darfur by Halima Bashir

* My Father’s Paradise, by Ariel Sabar

Since it was posted late, I say look at yesterday’s post, the Powell’s essay.  I liked that one.