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I live in a literary landmark
I moved to Los Angeles over three years ago, after graduating with my literature degree in the Southeastern US. A year and a half ago, I moved out abruptly and found a cute, charming little studio in Hollywood. I toured it and fell in love: a 1920s early Hollywood hotel with built-in bookshelves and original penny tile in the bathroom, halfway up a steep hill.
A few days later, when I signed the lease and began my move, I met with my new building manager: a kind older gentleman with a motorcycle and so much knowledge about the history of my new neighborhood.
Before he left, on the upper right-hand corner of my copy of the lease, he wrote down two books I had been assigned in college but had never read:
*1. Day of the Locust*
*2. Miss Lonelyhearts*
I recognized these as books by Nathanael West, books I'd had to SparkNote in order to prioritize my required reading on Joyce's *Ulysses*.
I asked why he had written those titles down.
"He lived here," he replied.
"In the building?" I asked.
"No, well yes, but in *here*."
I kicked myself for not giving that assignment my attention.
During my move, I found the assigned reading from college, and set it atop what once was Mr. West's bookshelf. Over the next few days, I read both stories and felt so much more connected to the 325-square-foot room I now inhabited.
According to neighbors who have lived in the building for many years, there is a spirit of an author, dressed in '30s-style clothing, who visits them occasionally. We’ve taken to calling the visitor Mr. West.
I'm certain it's been Mr. West who has knocked that damn book off the shelf so many times.
In addition to feeling his presence, I have also had great fun because of Mr. West. Occasionally, the historical society leads tours around the neighborhood, and one morning rather recently, I went outside to haul out the trash when a crowd of about 15 people had gathered around the building with their phones up to take photos, cooing.
I greeted them and asked if they were the historical society, and they laughed. They were a writers' retreat. Breathlessly, I blurted out, "I live in Nathanael West's unit!"
All 15 of them stared at me for a moment, and then they all spoke at once: "He's why we're here."
The writers were from all over. We had a lovely conversation while I showed them a peek of my unit (THE UNIT!) with the built-in bookshelf, the original mirrors, the penny tile.
As they left, invited my partner and me to a soirée they were hosting that week... at a castle in town.
What a blast! I met authors I had been reading and authors on my to-be-read list. I traipsed around and explored a castle while handwriting analysis was happening in the dining room.
So, yes, I live in an old author's old apartment, and it is just as exciting as you would think.
#entertainment
source
I moved to Los Angeles over three years ago, after graduating with my literature degree in the Southeastern US. A year and a half ago, I moved out abruptly and found a cute, charming little studio in Hollywood. I toured it and fell in love: a 1920s early Hollywood hotel with built-in bookshelves and original penny tile in the bathroom, halfway up a steep hill.
A few days later, when I signed the lease and began my move, I met with my new building manager: a kind older gentleman with a motorcycle and so much knowledge about the history of my new neighborhood.
Before he left, on the upper right-hand corner of my copy of the lease, he wrote down two books I had been assigned in college but had never read:
*1. Day of the Locust*
*2. Miss Lonelyhearts*
I recognized these as books by Nathanael West, books I'd had to SparkNote in order to prioritize my required reading on Joyce's *Ulysses*.
I asked why he had written those titles down.
"He lived here," he replied.
"In the building?" I asked.
"No, well yes, but in *here*."
I kicked myself for not giving that assignment my attention.
During my move, I found the assigned reading from college, and set it atop what once was Mr. West's bookshelf. Over the next few days, I read both stories and felt so much more connected to the 325-square-foot room I now inhabited.
According to neighbors who have lived in the building for many years, there is a spirit of an author, dressed in '30s-style clothing, who visits them occasionally. We’ve taken to calling the visitor Mr. West.
I'm certain it's been Mr. West who has knocked that damn book off the shelf so many times.
In addition to feeling his presence, I have also had great fun because of Mr. West. Occasionally, the historical society leads tours around the neighborhood, and one morning rather recently, I went outside to haul out the trash when a crowd of about 15 people had gathered around the building with their phones up to take photos, cooing.
I greeted them and asked if they were the historical society, and they laughed. They were a writers' retreat. Breathlessly, I blurted out, "I live in Nathanael West's unit!"
All 15 of them stared at me for a moment, and then they all spoke at once: "He's why we're here."
The writers were from all over. We had a lovely conversation while I showed them a peek of my unit (THE UNIT!) with the built-in bookshelf, the original mirrors, the penny tile.
As they left, invited my partner and me to a soirée they were hosting that week... at a castle in town.
What a blast! I met authors I had been reading and authors on my to-be-read list. I traipsed around and explored a castle while handwriting analysis was happening in the dining room.
So, yes, I live in an old author's old apartment, and it is just as exciting as you would think.
#entertainment
source
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