Sold a MESSIAHS. The buyer was the fellow who is at work on a documentary about the Air Pirates. (See: Levin. PIRATES AND THE MOUSE.) He has raised sufficient funds to begin shooting. Then he hopes his footage will help secure more funding. (His most recent film, concerning a Marine in Afghanistan, will be shown on PBS on Jan. 12.)
And swapped a MESSIAHS (and t-shirt) to our IT guy for services rendered. He got the mike on my lap top working so I was fully Zoom-ready. (See below.)

In other news:
a.) The Zoom, which was with the co-hosts of “Amusing Jews,” was great fun. They had sent me sample questions, almost all of which I’d answered before orally or in writing – or many times in my head, so I was well-prepared to be informative – and amusing. Both hosts were in their late 30s or early 40s, so, especially when I was talking about the 1950s, I felt like a visitor from another planet. (The show will be available for listening/viewing in a few weeks. I’ll let you know.)
b.) My café friend, to whom I gave CHEESESTEAK to send her 90-year-old mother in Portland, who is from Philadelphia, says she found it “hysterical” and wants to read more by me.
LOLLIPOP is under consideration.
c.) Another café friend is going to Amsterdam for eight days and the only book she is taking is MESSIAHS. So as far as I know, that will be its cross-Atlantic debut. All foreign language rights remain available.
d.) Finally, a couple things that burn my ass:
i) I am sick and tired of people who all they can think to say in response to something of mine they’ve read is “You’re really a good writer.” As I said to one of these the other day, “I know I’m a good writer. I’ve been a good writer since 6th grade.” I am appreciative that they’ve read me at all. I know I’m not for everyone. In fact, I count on it. But there’s worse. Like, for instance…
ii.) A guy with whom I had been friends in elementary school was in town with his wife for a bridge tournament. We met for lunch. He said, “Still writing, Bob?” “Yup,” I said. And that was that. I asked him about bridge. I asked about grandchildren. We ran through the Eagles and the Warriors. I heard many stories about his law practice and years as a trial judge. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Just meditating,” I said.
When he went to the bathroom, his wife asked what I wrote about. She had no idea what an underground comic was.

Sold no books. But did gain a “Pirates and the Mouse.”
When it was published, I seem to have given an unsigned copy to my optometrist to put in a bookcase where she displayed books by her patients. Susan Griffin. Scoop Nisker. Robert Reich. A couple years ago, she sold her practice to another optometrist, and when I went in the other day to pick up a pair of prescription reading glasses, I saw a stack of books on a counter. I don’t if they were to be re-displayed, discarded, or available for adoption, but I asked for mine. The sales clerk said “Sure.” If there is a new display, I will bring one or two others to replace it.
ii
At lunch a friend said he had read a couple more pieces in “Messiahs.” Jaxon and Kurtzman. “You are such a good writer,” he said. “You do so much research. But, seriously, Bob, comic books?”
See what I am up against.
iii
A veritable tsunami of media attention is sweeping me along:
A woman, who is writing up “Messiahs” as part of a feature on recent-books-by-local-authors for a Berkeley on-line daily, interviewed me by phone. Each book has been allotted 300 words, and she seems to have read none of mine. (She had read the introduction and was impressed.) I gave her some good stuff and am confident I will pull my weight.
The fellows with whom I will be zooming in two weeks for their podcast/You Tube video sent me some preliminary questions. I have honed my anecdotes and can handle them all;
An author of paperback originals about B-movie stars, true crimes, and Christian discipline erotica, with whom I connected on-line over our mutual interest in Peggy Manley (See: “Cheesesteak.” p.33 et seq.) has told me she will be giving “Most Outrageous” “one of the best reviews ever” at Amazon, Instagram, and You Tube.

Happy Thanksgiving.

All Bob’s books are available at www.theboblevin.com.

Sold two MESSIAHS. One (plus t-shirt) went to a regular at the café who had missed the launch party. The other went to an artist who lives near New Hope, PA. We have never met but had come across a copy of OUTLAWS a few years ago at a museum bookstore and written to tell me how it had impacted her life. Boy, was that a bolt-from-the-blue spirit-lifter! It is a memory I replay and replay in my mind. We have remained in light contact (mainly through FB), and she had turned her partner, a NYC-based artist, onto my work. Now, in the note accompanying her check, she reaffirmed how my humor, insights and obsessions had influenced her (and “others”). I sent her a t-shirt too. (It seems to have passed the postal clerk as “packing material” since it didn’t cost me my Media Mail rate.)
MESSIAHS also received its first review, from Steven Thompson, at his on-line “Forces of Geek.” Thompson, a 66-year-old aficionado of popular culture, wasn’t familiar with many of the folks and books I wrote about, but he was quite complimentary about my work and me. (His only complaint was the title: “Abominable.”
None of the potential interviews has drawn any closer, and one has been taken off the board entirely.

In other news…
The Zoom between the Air Pirates documentary film maker, two of his associates, the proposed copyright law expert, and me went swimmingly. (The fact that I couldn’t get my microphone to operate was not a major problem, since I had nothing to say.) The star was the law professor, who came across as a classic of the type: extremely bright; engagingly eccentric. (For the fictional adaptation, think Margaret Rutherford.) I could see the film maker becoming entranced, looking forward to getting cameras rolling.

Sold a MESSIAHS to a café pal and gave one to a fellow I’ve known since kindergarten as a birthday present. Gave a CHEESESTEAK to a woman at the café on SSI, as a gift for her mother who lives in Portland but is from Philadelphia. Her mom is 90, so seven-years older than me, but some of my stuff may resonate.
Received a very nice – and thoughtful – email from a writer I don’t know, praising me and MESSIAHS. He said he had read it cover-to-cover, which makes only two people I know of who have done that. Some seem to have stopped with the introduction. Several have read the Vaughn Bode piece. A few have jumped around. One, surprisingly, was most taken by Mike Diana. No other entries have received mention.

In other news…
The Air Pirates zoom has moved a significant step closer to realization, but there have been no developments with my interview by the on-line paper. As for the woman who wants to discuss my research methodology…
She apologized for not following through again on our proposed conversation. She explained, she had (a) been hospitalized and (b) had been forced to vacate her apartment due to black mold. She was moving to LA. Maybe we could have coffee.
I said Berkeley was a long commute from LA.
Was there a train? she inquired.
AMTRAK, I said.
There things remain.

Sold four MESSIAHS. (And a second cousin reported at FB that she bought one.)
The first and second went to and electrical engineer from Eritrea, who had come to the US as a teenager. He bought one for himself and one as a gift for a relative. The third went to a former secretary of mine and the fourth to a retired social worker who wanted it for a friend in NYC, who had bought books of mine previously when visiting. (Everyone received a t-shirt.)
I also gave an IWKYA to a retired attorney in the DC area whom I know from an on-line discussion (mainly basketball and politics) group. He’d expressed interest in my health saga. It was a gift because I had previously signed it for an elementary school friend, currently living in Florida, who has memory problems and, for reasons known only to him, had decided I needed it back. “So it’s personally inscribed,” I told the fellow in D.C., “only not to you.”
Meanwhile, I have not heard from the reporter who’d expressed interest in writing about MESSIAHS for an on-line daily or from the woman who wanted to discuss my research technique. (This was the second time she has dropped this ball, so I am giving up on her.)

In other news…
The documentary about Dan O’Neill and the Air Pirates is moving along. The first meeting in 40 years between Dan and one member of the crew was filmed. (Another was ill and couldn’t make it and will have to be filmed separately.) The copyright expert the documentarian hoped to interview has health problems too. And so does he.
So there is this aspect of the project being a race against time.

In order of completion:

1. Alan Goldfein. “2035.” My friend Alan continues to be one of the most productive octogenarians around. This is his second novel to arrive at my table in the café in the last year. This is a dystopian view of a not too distant future. Alan has a lot on his mind.

2. Kit Robinson. “Tunes & Tens.” Another friend, Kit was once lumped in among the “language poets,” a term he dislikes. He is also a Latin jazz musician and his jazz-related poems, of which there are several in this collection, are, for me, the most accessible and, hence, admirable. Much of his others I can’t make sense of, but making sense may not matter to some readers, right?

3. Joan Didion. “Notes to John.” These are Didion’s recollections, visit by visit, of psychiatric sessions primarily addressing her relationship with her daughter Quintana. The ending is common knowledge. A terribly sad and painfully rendered business.

4. O. Schrauren. “Sunday.” Chris Ware’s NYRB review alerted me to this book. He also educated me in possibilities of the comic-art-form to which I’d been oblivious. The story is quirky. The art is sneaky. The effect is strong. An enthralling display of panel positioning and page composition, of character creation and experiments with time.

5. Peter Weiss. “The Aesthetics of Resistance,” vol. I. Highly touted by a semi-regular at the café. It is a first person narrative by an unnamed teenage Communist in 1930s Germany, which carries through the Spanish Civil War. Without chapters or dialogue, it was nearly unreadable until I found guidance in Wikipedia – and discovered a glossary at book’s end which explained who the characters were. The book’s thrust is the failure of Communists and Social Democrats to unite to effectively fight Fascism, intertwined with expositions on particular works of art.

6. Rick Atkinson. “Fate of the Day.” His second volume of the American Revolutionary War. I’ve previously stated what I like about Atkinson’s military histories, so I won’t repeat myself. Only one (not yet published) volume to go, but I think I’m in good shape for when the Ken Burns documentary series begins.

7. Peter Weiss. “The Aesthetics of Resistance,” vol. II. After the war’s end the narrator escapes to France and then to Sweden, an assumed identity. He continues his working for the Party while assisting the Soviets struggle against the Nazis. He becomes involved with Brecht, who is also an ex-pat there, and his theories on art. All heavy stuff. I was still managing only abut five pages a day but the going was easier.

8. R. Crumb. “Heroes of Blues, Jazz & Country.” This collects the trading cards Crumb did on these figures into one volume. A minimalist page of text is set beside Crumb’s portrait of each figure. (The texts on the country artists are the longest.) Each portrait, apparently based on a single photo of each individual, is raw and simple, yet Crumb captures an expression of individuality and character in them all.

9. Henrik Pontoppidan. “A Fortunate Man.” A friend recommended this. Pontoppidan, a Dane, won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1917. I did not care for it. I did not care for the protagonist and the pages reeked with anti-Semitism. Minor characters were well-crafted and the picture of the society was well done – but seemed ridiculous. Which is how, I expect – and hope – people 108 years from now will characterize ours.

10. Bruce Chrislip. “The Minicomix Revolution.” I learned a lot about a phenomenon and its practitioners I had barely considered. Significant thoughts about art arose. Take a sheet of paper; fold it in half, Fold it in half again, and you have a four-page comic. Swap them for other four-pagers or sell them for pennies or leave them on shelves or counters to be carried away. You are an artist. Wow!

Our setting up for the Launch Party caught the eyes of a couple than might have been in their 90s, a geneticist and his wife. He has written about a dozen books, so, perhaps from sympathy, perhaps from brotherhood, he bought mine. My first direct sale of MESSIAHS to a stranger.
During the week, I sold a copy to a friend, a retired newspaper reporter, who had missed the launch because of complications from a medical procedure and to a semi-retired plumber, who is a friend of the son of a cartoonist (Vaughn Bode) about whom I wrote. He lives in Grass Valley now and only comes down when he has a job.
Had a couple inquiries from people who want to talk to me about the book, which may lead somewhere or other. They have my number but neither has produced a phone call yet.

In other news…
I had been wondering what I would do after the dust from the launch had settled. I know I don’t have another book in me. Would I lie back and smell the roses? Were 500 Adventures sufficient? But an editor at tcj.com dangled a couple ideas for articles in front of me, and I bit on one.
So stay tuned.

Okay, ,the Analytics Dept. has poured over the stats gathered from the MESSIAHS launch party. Of the 26 invited guests I’d deemed “Definite” attendees, 13 came, three with partners, and one of whom brought three friends. Seven already had copies and six bought them, as did two of the guests.
Of the 25 invitees I’d considered “Maybe,” five came, and three bought copies.
Of 10 invitees I’d considered “Unlikely,” three came, and all bought a book.
Five people I knew but hadn’t specifically invited came. Three bought a book; one already had one and one received a copy in a trade.
No one was under 60. One was Asian-American and one Mexican-American. Eighty-percent were male. Slightly more than half were Jewish.
Among the (almost all retired) attendees were an ER physician, glass artist, painter (art, not commercial), PR guy, parks worker, two psychotherapists, an animator, two novelists, a workers’ comp judge, two lawyers, a labor organizer, two electricians, an engineer or two, an English professor, a film studies professor, and a roots musician/owner of a guitar shop (sales and repair).

It was SRO. People mingled; cake and grapes were served. I read and talked and answered (or ducked) questions. (The one I ducked was why there weren’t more female cartoonists and, implicitly, why I didn’t write more about the ones there were.) Everyone seemed to have a good time. The only non-good time seemed to have been in the dark portion of my brain which bitched about more people not coming and more books no being sold. But like the person who asked me about the women cartoonists wisely said, “Look, it’s not like you’re trying to make a living out of this.”
I certainly enjoyed seeing people I hadn’t expected to see. (I was touched by those who made an extra effort to come.) And it was instructive to consider my reactions to the people who didn’t come. Some I worried about; some fostered grudges that grew. (There were lessons in humility to be had as well.) It occurred to me that when I next see some of these people, they will buy a book and my reactions may change.
Detach and observe.

N___, a fine artist and recently retired teacher at a school for troubled adolescents, cast an eye over MESSIAHS, MESHUGGANAHS, MISANTHROPES & MYSTERIES and said, “I’ve been called most of those things. But not all of them”

Sold copies to a retired social worker, who can’t make the event, and to two practicing therapist, one of whom can’t and one of whom who can. (Each received a t-shirt.) Gave a book to a retired electrician who had once given me a semi-valuable book by the Hairy Who. One semi-retired attorney in North Jersey received his Kindle version. One cartoonist and one fellow from the comix world reported buying copies.
Sold a t-shirt to an artist in NYC who had previously bought a book. Swapped a copy (and a t-shirt) to a former tree trimmer/photographer/rock drummer currently living in his van in return for a belt of Mexican leather with a scorpion design and a buckle from the Himalayas from which the lapis had fallen off. A retired mime said he would love to buy a copy but doesn’t have room in his house for it.
New declinations from invitees because they must play in an chamber music recital in Livermore, they are attending a six-year-old grandson’s birthday party, and they have been hospitalized with bleeding from the penis. (Well, we wouldn’t want him.)
Meanwhile, the cakes have been ordered and a semi-professional sound system promised by F___. I have declined his offers of music and to introduce me before I read.

A nephew reports buying a MESSIAHS. Four other nephews, plus a niece, have withstood such an impulse. So have, as far as I know, all cousins, first, second and beyond. (My and Adele’s siblings received freebies.)
Had two sales myself. One went to a multi-media artist, already a reader, in the Bronx, and the other to an animator/artist in Huntington Beach, who got me through my web site. What got him to that, I can’t say.

In other news…
The launch party continues to occupy my mind. (REMINDER: Oct. 19. 2:00 PM. French Hotel Café. 1538 Shattuck Ave. Berkeley.) Paper plates and plastic forks have been purchased. (Cake and fruit to come.) Have loaded up on $10 bills, so I can give change to anyone who buys a book with two $20s. Fran, who is in charge of promotion, artistic direction, and the sound system, is getting itt together.
The t-shirts, which he also designed, silk=screened and printed, have arrived and are FABULOUS. Everyone who buys a book will receive one (M, L or XL) . (Alternatively, you can buy a t-shirt – also $30 – and receive a free book.) 28 people (some with partners) have said they will come, and some have invited friends. Nine have more-or-less sent regrets; 29 have not made their intentions known.
On a strictly positive note, 380 people responded to Fantagraphics on-line announcement of the book, which is far more of an audience than I knew I had. A couple were delighted and/or excited.