Order Lavina Today!
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Novels by Mary Marcus
New on the Blog
Manfred
We are going to a Christmas party in a few minutes. The host is one of those truly inspiring individuals who doesn’t just say he’s thankful, he does something about it which is to collect toys for children during Christmas. I always bring stuffed animals, because I loved them when I was small and so did my son. Every year they get a little cheaper. The Chinese are geniuses at making plushy toys. I did a lot of research on stuffed animals when I was writing a book a couple of years ago. It isn’t a nice feeling knowing the toys that feel so nice in the hand have been created on assembly lines populated by Chinese children who are working to put food on the table and often live in labor camps. And, even if I could locate some hand-made expensive toys sewn here in America and sooth my own superego, everybody knows the kids don’t want the p.c. well made stuff, they want the popular world wide schlock advertised on TV. Which brings me to the subject of the only nice memory I have of my father, who died so many years ago, I wouldn’t know who he was if we passed each other in parallel time machines. He inhabits my subconscious and appears in dreams mostly disguised as other people, ones who are going to rob me, kill me or make me suffer long and hard for the sin of being who I am, which was a baby, a toddler and finally a child he just happened to hate. But one day, he didn’t hate me....Still Life With Hat
The trouble with it being cold in LA is that it’s not really cold. You don’t technically need the heat on. Still, the houses are cold unless they are hot and overheated. I don’t have the heat on, but I’m wearing a down vest and my favorite hat, one I bought a couple of years ago in an expensive shop near Lincoln Center over the Christmas holidays. My dear friend who teaches at Columbia had lent her apartment to my husband and me while she was in China. The hat is cashmere in a grey/blue pretty knit. I bought it in case I got into the winter writing workshop at Sundance with my script for The New Me. The year before on Thanksgiving weekend, after we dropped our son off at the airport, we went to a screening of a much-anticipated movie, and the place was packed with industry people. On the way out, my husband bumped into a director he knew, and I ended up walking with the director’s wife, who showed an unusual interest in me. No one in my twenty years in this town as the wife of a hard-working picture editor has ever showed me any interest. I say that without a touch of rancor; it’s just the way it is here. No one pays attention to you unless you are famous or rich or very young (under thirty and exceedingly beautiful). And in the case of the later, that doesn’t last long. She actually asked me what I did. I told her (which was partly true) that I wrote short stories. It was what...Rain
The big news in LA is that it has finally rained. And rained again. And more rain is predicted soon. Everyone except for the dogs and the outdoor cats are finally exhaling in relief. People are thanking God it is finally raining. Though gratitude doesn’t seem to have affected the streets. Motorists all over town are furious. The rage is palpable, the traffic is outrageous and people are honking, slamming on the brakes blocking the intersections. Nobody here puts a head out the window and yells, “fuck you!” like they do in New York or New Jersey. LA, the spiritual capital of road rage is home of the concealed weapon under the seat. Nevertheless, the rain is fabulous. It’s a religious event. Though the drought is by no means over, things are feeling a lot more optimistic around here. Yay! One can flush the toilet with impunity. Yay! Take a guilt free bath for heaven’s sake! Lately, I’ve been using the water that’s left in back of the fake espresso machine I love so much and watering the cactus outside. Or just dumping it around, everything’s been so parched. We were in this sort of dry hell. And yes, I think hell is a dry fiery place (unless hell is a watery water-boarding somewhere). Yes, climate torture seems to be over for a while here. Or at least temporarily abated. I’ve been conferring with the honey man at the green market since the drought started, and he told me recently if it didn’t rain this winter it would be over for his bees. I can’t wait for Saturday so...
The New Me
Lavina
Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Books-a-Million • iBooks • Indiebound • Indigo • The StoryPlant