Only one sale. But it raised the prestige-quotient of my audience.
A café pal, a classically trained musician, was in rehearsal with the Oakland Symphony when the visiting conductor, who had previously led the Chicago orchestra, remarked, “I had thought 1968 was bad, but today may be worse.”
Now, nothing says “Chicago,” “1968″ like “Lollipop,” and, fortunately, my pal had his copy with him, which he showed the maestro.
“Is this by Bob Levin, the pianist?” he said.
“Not unless ‘Chopsticks’ qualifies,” my pal said. (Not really.)
So he bought a second copy to give the man.
In other news…
1.) “A perfect blend of humor, cynicism and reality,” my café author-of-seniors’-erotica pal said of “Lollipop” – and he arrived in Chicago the month after I left, so he should know whereof he speaks.
2.) Unlike, say, the journal to which I’d shopped a copy. Its reviewer “was unable to find little that warranted a positive review (sic)),” it reported. Did I wish to see his “commentary”?
Absolutely not, I said.
Did I wish to try a second reviewer?
Sure.
3.) Other words-of-mouth included (a) “I read that! It’s a wonderful book.” A woman joining my table outside the café said of IWKYA; and (b) “(T)he best little book on copyright I have ever read,” said the philosophy professor mentioned an “Adventure” or two ago of “The Pirates and the Mouse.”
4.) This week’s basement-cleaning dumped a storage box with 20-pounds of notes and drafts that went into the 140-pages of “Lollipop.” Is it any wonder when someone asks me to look at something they’ve written which reads like they’ve given it the care of the product of a Hindu shmashana my ass is burnt?
ALL OF BOB”S BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE FROM www.theboblevin.com
So many Bob Levins on the Internet; I'm the Bob Levin who writes.