Los Angeles Times Festival Of Books

AMERICAN book festivals are often dominated by a theme or a high-profile author, but good luck finding the hook at this weekend's 12th annual Los Angeles Times Festival of Books at UCLA. Beyond a love for literature and good writing, it's hard to find the common thread in an event featuring authors such as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Julie Andrews, Dr. Phil McGraw, James Ellroy, Lee Iacocca, Ray Bradbury, Frank McCourt, Amy Goodman, William Kittredge, Lawrence Wright, Jim Lehrer and Joseph Wambaugh.

Marilynne Robinson took the top fiction prize Friday for her novel "Home," and Barton Gellman the current interest award for his book on Dick Cheney's vice presidency at the 29th annual Los Angeles Times Book Prizes. Robert Alter, a UC Berkeley professor and author of 22 works on the Bible, literary modernism and contemporary Hebrew literature, had earlier been named the recipient of the Robert Kirsch Award, given annually to a living author "with a substantial connection to the American West."

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, runs Monday through Saturday until April 24. The festival takes place at UCLA on April 25 and 26. -- Traffic was awful on the drive to Bunny's house. They passed two accidents. Cars were honking nonstop; traffic lights stalled; a police officer with a yellow vest was eating a sandwich on the sidewalk with eyes drifting up to the sky.

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, runs Monday through Saturday until April 24. The festival takes place on April 25 and 26 at UCLA. -- Bunny guided the old Bentley toward the Church of the Holy Redeemer, steering past the hordes that surrounded a stalled MTA bus on Vermont Avenue. People were jumping up and down, hands flailing at pieces of paper that floated and spun in the hot wind.

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, runs through Friday. The festival takes place on Saturday and Sunday at UCLA. -- Bunny didn't kid herself. She knew she was not the only woman to have sinned with a man of the cloth. Most such men, she also knew, preferred to transgress with their own gender; Bunny's theory being that, deep down, they wanted to feel like they were with an apostle. . . . Not to judge.

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, runs through Friday. The festival takes place Saturday and Sunday at UCLA. Rev. Franco peered out the window. On the boulevard, a procession of wild-eyed men in hair shirts marched, chanting and flogging themselves. A taco truck was accepting Academy Award DVD screeners as payment.

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, runs through Friday. The festival takes place Saturday and Sunday at UCLA. -- People like endings. They like their stories wrapped up -- loose strings tied together in a tidy little bow, everything concluded to their satisfaction, cut and dried, over and done, put away neatly in its proper place. They love closure.

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, runs through Friday. The festival takes place Saturday and Sunday at UCLA. -- Rev. Franco already knew his first mistake. He'd thought this money thing was about him. He thought he'd been crafty calling Rudy, that he'd get out of this mess with his hands clean, but he might as well have been out there with the rest of the suckers pounding on empty ATMs.

"Money Walks," a serial novel by 16 Los Angeles writers who will be appearing at this year's Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, ends today. The festival takes place Saturday and Sunday at UCLA. -- Before Franco could move, the man in the trench coat picked up the nickel. He smelled of ozone and warm tortillas. "Some say fire," he said, examining one side of the coin, "and some say ice. What'll it be, Rev?" He flashed a smile so bright and perilous that even Rudy gasped.