Any book event that begins on the cigarette-burned desk of a mystery pulp writer and ends in a Polish disco is a good book event.
That was the case this past Saturday at the Port Richmond Bookstore, where I was hosted by Greg Gillespie and Deen Kogan for an afternoon of books, beer and much conversation. When I arrived, I saw a row of
Blondes on a well-loved wooden desk. "That's
Mike Avallone's desk, you know," said Greg. Avallone, for you non pulp-loving heathens out there, is the self-styled "Fastest Typewriter in the East," the man responsible for an incredible run of paperback originals, many featuring his oddball detective
Ed Noon. And sure enough, Greg opened the drawer and there it was--a message from Avallone himself. (Click on the photo above for a larger view.)
The top of the desk, though, is what mesmerized me. It was covered in cigarette burns, and I could just imagine Avallone hunched over, enaged in such furious bouts of typing that he forgets, from time to time, that he has a lit cigarette waiting for him.
Greg asked me if I would come back sometime and write a chapter of a book on this desk. I'm definitely taking him up on it.
Instead of a reading, I just spent a little time talking about
The Blonde and my other books. (So far, I haven't read a single line out loud, which was a conscious decision. The opening chapter of The Blonde is basically dialogue between a man and a woman in a bar, and trying to recreate that could get a little absurd. So I'm taking
the Mike Connelly approach.) My parents and my grandfather were in attendance, however, so I couldn't use my usual "my parents warped me" schtick. And it felt very strange to discuss a kinky sex scene in
The Blonde in front of my wife, my mother, my father, and the man who fathered my mother. Sometimes I think it's a bad idea to invite family to these kinds of things. Does Peter Parker invite Aunt May out to watch when he's being Spider-Man?
As promised, there were celebrity bloggers in attendance: my good friend Ed "Bibliothecary" Pettit was in it for the long haul, and wrote a
very nice post about the event. Ed also wrote an
extremely generous review of The Blonde, and didn't complain once about the Polish food (but we'll get to that in a minute).
Arriving late, but also staying late, was my Killer Year mentee:
Dave "Still Giamatti" White, who purchased four books (shrewd move, Young Padawan Learner), pretended to know who Mike Avallone was, and absolutely lit up when Ed walked into the room and said, "You're Dave White, aren't you?"
Lou "The Goodis Man" Boxer was also there, despite a bad cold. And I had the opportunity to meet Jane Duffin and Anthony Byrne of
The Irish Tradition, one of Greg's favorite local newspapers.
After the official event, we retired to the semi-heated "lounge" of the bookstore where we ate cold tomato pie and drank beer. Then we moved to Greg's allegedly-heated office, where we talked about Steve Allen and Jack Kerouac and Jerry Lee Lewis and Frank Zappa and a bunch of other stuff that bored Dave silly. Hours later... and I mean hours... we decided to eat something, and Greg suggested the
New Wave Cafe on Richmond Street. A Polish restaurant. Hell yes.
Ed captured this place nicely on his blog, but man... it was like being home again, only in an alternate universe. There were the old school Swierczy family staples: your pierogi, your kielbasa, your rye bread, your beer. But there was also a disco ball. And strange Eurotrash videos.
The Bride has never been a fan of Polish food, so the place didn't do much for her. Especially when she looked down at the menu and saw an entree called MEAT CAKE. (Polish meat loaf.) She ordered a salad. First Rule of Polish Restaurant/Discos: Don't order the salad.
But my plate of piergoi and fried onions and kielbasa was like touching my tongue to the beaches of Polish heaven. My God. I probably shaved a few days off my lifespan, but it was worth every heart-stopping bite.
When the Eurotrash came on strong, it was time to go. But I departed with a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. Of good times, good beer and excellent conversation. And a burning desire to use this Polish restaurant disco in my next novel.
Thanks to everyone who hung out with me last Saturday. And huge thanks to Greg and Deen for hosting me.
