With surfing at its core, the stories collected in Californios reach beyond the ragged sun-bleached periphery of surf-culture, into the lives of shiftless coastal dwellers and migrant field workers. Jeff McElroy channels the Bob Dylan-esque drawl of the West Coast vernacular, creating a world far removed from beach blanket bingo.
If you haven’t read my post, I said that if you are interested, leave a comment and I’d randomly select someone to send a free, signed copy of the book. I figured since I’m in town this week I’d do it on Tuesday afternoon, so you still have time to check out the post and possibly win the sucker. Or even just go out and buy the damn thing. It’s even available on your Kindle. . . .
And remember: This isn’t a book review site. I mention stuff I read that I like, because sharing good books is a beautiful thing. Especially books that are somewhat under the radar, like this one. I didn’t know Jeff when I bought the book and started raving about it, and while we’ve been in contact since that time, this didn’t start out as me writing about a book to help out a friend’s writing career. That it has morphed into also being about that is only because I dug the book and Jeff seems like a cool enough guy. Only time — and a beer and nachos session — will tell if that turns out to be the case.