words to live by W
hen Johannes Gutenberg invented movable type circa 1440, he effectively changed the course of history: For the first time, printed material became available to the masses, breaking the aristocracy’s grip on literacy and education. Fast-forward nearly 600 years, and Gutenberg’s invention has spawned a modern U.S. book publishing industry that in 2014 generated about $28 billion in revenue. Santa Barbara may not be the birthplace of the printing press, but it is — and has been — home to many lauded authors including Ross Mac-
Find Out what books are buzzing This Summer
donald and T.C. Boyle. Another writer in our midst recently joined the ranks of published authors: D.J. Palladino, a longtime Santa Barbara Independent contributor and new bookstore owner. His noir novel, Nothing That Is Ours, is a fantastical murder mystery in which 1958 Santa Barbara plays a significant role. Read on to learn about the birth of Nothing That Is Ours, in an interview with Palladino by Brandon Fastman. Also in this issue, find out what the S.B. Public Library and Chaucer’s Books suggest for the best summer reads, and check out two excerpts from Library Book: Writers on Libraries, a collection of short stories from area writers. —Michelle Drown
murder, mystery, mayhem!
I
t might make sense to begin a story
d.j. palladino gives santa barbara literary treatment in first novel by Brandon Fastman
completed in 2015. It finally hit bookstores this past March. “James Joyce didn’t take 15 years to write Ulysses,” Palladino joked over dim sum as I interviewed him for this story and he feverishly shoveled pork buns and roasted duck onto his plate.
TasTeMaker
novel, was the travel writer and essayist Pico Iyer, who tried to pass the book on to his own agent — and then Thomas Pynchon’s agent. It was Carpinteria-based journalist and author Ann Louise Bardach who would successfully fulfill the role of literary matchmaker, connecting Palladino with his eventual publisher, Asahina & Wallace. Palladino started writing the novel in 2000, and he finished the first draft four years later. The final edits were
Save for red-striped Coke-bottle eyeglasses covering a pupil that bleeds into his left cornea, there’s little about Palladino’s appearance — think pleated khakis and well-traveled sneakers — that suggests his total immersion in the joys of aesthetic pleasure. (I do have it on good authority, though, that his close-cropped salt and peppers are managed by an Italian hairstylist.) Nevertheless, whether it’s the food on his tongue — or the words — Palladino takes taste quite seriously. This is a quality he’s reaffirmed during a long career as a critic. In a small town such as Santa Barbara, where it’s impossible to write about someone you aren’t eventually going to get stuck behind in a checkout line, Palladino has never shirked from leveling unstinting feedback or, more simply put, being honest about his likes and dislikes. It’s also a quality he impressed upon his son, Zac, when they cowrote film reviews in the ’90s. Palladino would force his pint-sized partner to defend his opinions about movies and to reassess his prejudgments of those he didn’t initially want to see. (Now grown, Zac designed the cover for his father’s novel.) Palladino fondly remembers writing a book review in which he “dumped” on the text that, ironically, planted the seed for Nothing That Is Ours. It was a volume of academic essays about Santa Barbara history. Palladino found the entries dry and lifeless, but one stood out to him. It told the story of Castle Rock, a large geographic structure that was dynamited to make way for the Santa Barbara Harbor
independent.com
cover story
about D.J. Palladino’s debut novel, Nothing That Is Ours, by referring to the 65-year-old author as a late bloomer. Or to proclaim that, after buying the diminutive Mesa Bookstore with his wife, Diane Arnold, just about a month before the novel’s release, Palladino has finally arrived in literary Santa Barbara. Whether a work of art is sold, however, is a poor measure of its value. Thus, such statements would be equal parts unfair to art and Palladino, who has been writing since he determined, 12 credits shy of a bachelor’s degree, that he’d learned as much as he needed from the UCSB English Department, and took a full-time job at the Santa Barbara News & Review, one of the two publications that would eventually merge and become The Santa Barbara Independent. About five years ago, when I was working as a reporter for this publication, Palladino paused at my desk one day to compliment the lead sentence of a story I had written. I know it was a Wednesday because every Wednesday, Palladino stops by The Santa Barbara Independent to pick up his best friend and executive editor, Nick Welsh, for lunch. My story was about a bankruptcy filing by a renowned vintner, and the first sentence read: “Turns out being good at what you do and making money are two separate endeavors.” Little did I know at the time how much the sentence also applied to Palladino, who was enduring an eighth year of trying to find a publisher for his novel. Like the vintner, Palladino received praise for his product, but he struggled to sell it, even with help from his lettered friends. His first champion, and the first reader of the
Cont’d p. 24
July 6, 2017
THE INDEPENDENt
23