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Self Portrait with Author Event Flyer, Avid Reader, Sacramento

Sunday, the 9th, we had a reading at the Avid Reader in Sacramento. Nice event, and thanks to the Avid folks.

See that projector? It was SUPER GRACIOUSLY lent to us by the John Natsoulas Gallery in Davis. Great place. Thanks JNG!

It was at this event that William and I had the simultaneous realization that (hello!) we really need to be doing some of the bushes beating on this thing ourselves. I mean, I think there were about eight people at this Avid Reader event, and they were all nice. It was a good conversation and fun as the rest. But what if we’d sent out some emails to a handful of RFBs (Righteous Foodie Bloggers), farmer’s market people, all manner of local/sustainable/organic/downhome eater-readers in the few days leading up to this event? I bet you five dollars we woulda had a bunch more folks there, and more of them with focused interest in our book.

At the Woodward Park Regional Library, on the outskirts of Fresno.

The next event was prefaced by our librarian, who met us with a concerned face as we arrived. Her first words to us were: “Oh, I’m just bemoaning that we didn’t get the word out about this reading a little bit better.” I replied, “Oh, that’s alright. It’s not that long a drive from the Bay Area.” Which, of course, being something like three hours, isn’t. Or is, depending upon your perspective.

Of course, our final perspective on the matter was probably clouded by the unfortunate dinner experience. We got to the library a couple hours early–travel time just worked out that way–so we got set up and then asked for directions to a Basque restaurant we’d heard of. Well, our hostess told us, that one is hard to find, but there’s another that is much easier to get to, and we were directed.

Despite appearances to the contrary, the Shepherd’s Inn…

…is no Wool Grower’s Rest

As William and I pulled up to the Fresno restaurant, I was struck by the similarity of the place’s streetside countenance to that I’d photographed on our first visit to the Wool Grower’s. Surely a good sign, we figured.

Ride ‘em, Jackalopemonkey!

Nice old bar, with some good beers on tap. A bit more stylish than the Wool Grower’s, perhaps, but then Fresno is obviously a more dynamic city than Los Banos. “The kitchen opens in ten minutes, boys,” says the nice bar lady. “Okay, soup’s on.” she says a bit later. Sounds good to us.

Well, looks like it ought to look. Nothing about this tickles our inbuilt authenticity radar…

Dear God, please let there be an actual Basque in that kitchen!

Alas, it was not to be. The desultory waitress told us as she was serving the first of many oversalted, underloved, probably-started-in-a-can courses that the last Basque cook left back in April. The food bore only a passing resemblance to real food. Let alone real Basque food. I mean, if what we were served at the Wool Grower’s rest is any indication.

The first meal we were served there was epic, and William recorded it scripturally in the Kitchens chapter of the book. One of my favorite photos from the book is this, of the aftermath:

“I felt my face harden and grow distant. I had never before experienced terror in mercy. Was there no true thing that did not seek to immolate us? Strange, the cuisine that creates asceticism out of abundance.” —page 141, Edges of Bounty

Disappointment. The photos are similar, but the sentiments behind them differ hugely. It would be an immoral stretch to call this food ‘inedible’, but I–who can ill abide the sight of wasted food–don’t mind saying I left this awful meal as you see it here. No celebration in that.

Ah, well, at least the library put on a good little edibilist feed for us:

They had a great projector and a brilliant room in which to present. Seven people came. To our surprise, we did sell one book.

Highlight of the evening was this fellow, Bill, who wore the shirt advertising his former employers, Kraft Foods brands Kool Aid, Capri Sun and some other gawdawful brightly colored glop. “Evil, evil company,” he said, of the outfit with headquarters in Fresno. We may not get on too big a soapbox in the book about it, but this kind of BIG FOOD is really just evil–Bill’s right. I think he enjoyed being kind of a double agent of subversion–wearing the shirt ironically in a town where nobody would think it’s out of place at all, and wearing it to our event knowing its antithetical to the whole premise of the book.

All of this is not to say that we are ungrateful for the support of the library, or to the people who came. We are. Unequivocally.

But in general it was not a good evening to reflect on the value of the tour. What I mean is that we drove three hours to get there, to find a nice room full of empty chairs and a scattering of people, only a couple of who’d actually seen or heard of the book (the rest were, to all appearances, folks who routinely visit library events, not that there’s anything wrong with that).

The evident economy of our time and effort, plus gasoline, plus our expensive/lousy dinner seemed to William and me to add up to a big “Is This Worth It?” Fresno was leaving an unpleasant taste in our mouths.

No lifeguard on duty.

It’s complicated.

At this point, I feel like it was a huge blessing to have done the book tour. So we didn’t sell a million books. No groupie stories or trashed hotel rooms. Obviously we got the book some good solid personal exposure, out there among its real audience. I’m proud of that.

As far as the literal economies of the thing–how much money we spent on gas/hotels/food/airfare, how much time we spent away from paying work, how much wear William put on his car, etc., versus the number of books we directly sold? Well, that’s a silly thing to think about, is what we concluded. It’s just not there.

What is there is a bunch of people who saw and heard us speak. Some bought books; most did not. But all of them know it’s out there. Plus, it’s clear it’s not just about selling books. And for us? BIG learning thing going on here: What it means to be on tour, what kinds of things we might do differently next time, what bits of the book do people respond to/do not respond to. All that stuff.

And one of the amazing things the tour afforded us was the chance to re-connect with some of our subjects. There are many more we hope to get in touch with, but on this last round, we caught up with

Harold Dirks, the beekeeper:

Rosie, the ‘mayor’ of Volta:

“Oh, you guys are a coupla characters!”

Paul Buxman in Dinuba:

Ron Goode, of the North Fork Mono:

I would consider our book, and our tour, completely successful if only all our subjects feel as good about the book as these four good folks seemed to. Of course, they haven’t read it yet…