Since Laura Eason calls her tense romantic comedy Sex With Strangers, audiences can be forgiven for jumping to the correct conclusion that these strangers -- they're both writers -- won't waste too much time before having torrid sex with each other.
And so we are given, as lucky surprise, something no one thought to even wish for, as this is the great book of what it might have been when the West Coast's writing scene coalesced as something unto its own self in all its driving, original, dynamic and even belligerent childishness.
My teen years are a blur of loitering and prowling, in libraries, bookstores, and books themselves. And there may have been some trespassing along the way. (The statute of limitations hasn't expired though, so I'll leave it at that.)
For more years than I care to admit, I had worked as a bookseller in the San Francisco Bay Area. And during my tenure as an events coordinator, I had the chance to meet a couple of acclaimed authors who had also once worked as a bookseller.