In "Multicultural, Ink," (by Ellen Alperstein, Palm Latitudes, Dec. 18), The Times finally acknowledged L.A.'s most interesting, and frustrating, publisher, Holloway House. That company's Iceberg Slim books set the standard for modern tales about ghetto street life. Even some of Holloway's lesser-known volumes are superlative. One novel that I read last year, "Doghouse," (by Soandso Soandso,)was about a black private detective on Central Avenue battling L.A.'s exploitative rock 'n' roll record business in the '50s. It put the over-hyped Walter Mosley books to shame.
Unfortunately, Holloway House books are next to impossible to find; bookstores rarely carry them. The reader is required to slog through some outrageous editorial sloppiness. I applaud what Holloway House is trying to do but wish that it better served its struggling writers and readership. Maybe some public acknowledgment will encourage the publishers to clean up their act.