LA Weekly

BükAmerica If Thomas Paine were to publish Common Sense today (assuming such sedition would be permitted), where would he distribute it? Car washes, hotels and coffeehouses, say Gary Kornblau and Lisa Lyons. The co-publishers of L.A.’s newest press, Bük, are relying on those unlikely literary venues to revive Paine’s unlikely literary form, the pamphlet. Neither a book nor a magazine, Bük comes in 16- and 32-page formats that showcase exactly one piece of writing: an Edith Wharton short story, a Jonathan Swift essay or a collection of Lynn Davis photographs, for instance.

“We’re trying to give a great piece of writing its own venue,” says Lyons, an independent art curator married to experimental novelist Richard Grossman. Having organized shows at the Getty and directed the Lannan Art Program, Lyons is accustomed to dealing high art; she’ll now broaden her efforts by peddling great works of literature for $1.49 a pop. At that price, Lyons hopes enough readers will pay at the car wash for what they might download for free at home. Bük’s first-edition print runs are in the tens of thousands, unthinkable figures to most book publishers.

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Pursuing such a broad audience means that Bük’s content probably won’t spark many tea parties, but former Art Issues publisher Kornblau says his industry needs a new model to engage readers. A model like Hollywood’s, let’s say. “Bük is not L.A.-centric,” says Kornblau. “Bük is a national publication, but the idea of bringing great material to a mass audience is very much in the spirit of Los Angeles.”


Perceval Press Maybe we’ve just got one too many trilogies on the brain, but the name of this Santa Monica–based art, criticism and poetry press (and the best-known role of its founder, Lord of the Rings star Viggo Mortensen) suggests an urgent heroic quest. Still, of the dozen handsomely designed books Perceval has published since its 2002 founding (which include Weekly contributor Anne Fishbein’s Russian photographs, On the Way Home), fewer document epic journeys than whimsical career divagations: a planned trio of kids’ books by sociologist Mike Davis, a first book of paintings by poet Rene Ricard, a collection of urban photos by Dennis Hopper, a few avant-garde noise CDs, a book of horse photography from Mortensen himself. There may be a higher political purpose to Pirates, Bats and Dragons, Mike Davis’ tale of three kids who join a U.N. research mission to a magical land suffering under a war on terrorism, but its polymath publisher (who, besides battling for Middle-earth, is a poet, painter and experimental musician) denies any agenda but quality publishing.

“Perhaps the attention derived from the publication of Twilight of Empire: Responses to Occupation has given some people the mistaken impression that we concentrate on overtly ‘political’ or ‘progressive’ material,” Mortensen tells me via e-mail, referring to Perceval’s recent collection of anti-Iraq-invasion essays. Though Twilight’s contributors are all heroes of the progressive Round Table — anti-corporate activist and journalist Naomi Klein, historian Howard Zinn, and former diplomat and Bush administration critic Joseph Wilson — Mortensen promises that Perceval “will remain open to publishing new and different material as well as points of view.”


Santa Monica Press For independent publishers of any medium, struggling to carve out a reputation for themselves, niche marketing may be the only safe approach. But don’t tell that to Santa Monica Press publisher Jeffrey Goldman. “I once sat in a seminar by somebody who only published books on eating disorders,” recalls Goldman. “I said, put a gun in my mouth if I ever have to publish just books on eating disorders.” A brief glance at Santa Monica’s catalog, which ranges from the prank manual Atomic Wedgies, Wet Willies, & Other Acts of Roguery to Loving Through Bars: Children With Parents in Prison, to Redneck Haiku (“Wedding night fireworks/as Flo’s ex-husband threatens/to bring back the kids”), reveals a definite eclecticism, if no books on bulimia. “I publish whatever I want to publish,” says Goldman. “That’s the beauty of being an independent press.”

TOKYOPOP's publisher and editor-in-chief, Mike Kiley

TOKYOPOP Manga may be an acquired taste for American adults, but for many preteens and adolescents, it’s more like crack. With nearly 28 million Japanese-style comic books in print, TOKYOPOP is hooking them early, all because of an accident of publishing. Back when TOKYOPOP rival and Japan’s largest manga publisher, Viz, began translating its titles and importing them to the U.S., it flipped its look, fearing American kids wouldn’t go for the traditional Japanese right-to-left layout. When he founded TOKYOPOP in 1997, CEO Stuart Levy decided to save on the costs of producing new artwork and kept his manga in the traditional format.

The gamble paid off, and the result is a Marvel in the making: Manga is publishing’s fastest-growing category, and TOKYOPOP has too many merchandising tie-ins to list: T-shirts, dolls, cell-phone wallpapers. It helped, says TOKYOPOP publicist Susan Hale, that Levy distributed his manga in malls, where the comics found their way to some of their most fervent admirers, teenage girls. “American comics are a dying breed for geeky guys,” says Hale. “Manga stories are very emotional — a girl’s parents got divorced and she doesn’t know how to cope with the separation. The characters may have superpowers, but they use them to help with a crush on a boy, not save the world.” Hence TOKYOPOP’s most popular title, Princess Ai, a manga serial co-written by Courtney Love, who, like Levy, fell in love with manga while living in Japan. Hollywood is next, Hale predicts. “Manga is nothing but storyboards,” she argues. “Manga stories are adaptations waiting to happen.”