June 22-28, 2006
Cover Story
Summer Lovin'Book Quarterly Introduction
It is with this in mind that we bring you our Summer Book Quarterly, packed with suggestions for wiling away sunny Saturdays, stormy Sundays (and slow workdays).
Stuck in the city, for better or worse? Justin Bauer takes you through the summer month by month with books to grill by. By the end of August, when Old City starts to smell like a mojito-infused sewer, you'll have read everything from William Lashner's Philly-set thriller to recent transplant Curtis Sittenfeld's lovestruck second book to Nikki Turner's hip-hop novel that will teach you all about, umm, riding dirty on I-95.
: Michael T. Regan
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We sent our Paper Doll Ashlea Halpern out on a date with seasoned bachelor and New Jersey native Ron Geraci. For years, Geraci's been doling out advice for the lovelornand the hornyin the pages of Cosmo and Men's Health. Ashlea devoured his just-released "dating memoir" The Bachelor Chronicles and discovered the man of her column-writing dreams. Dinner at El Vez, a few Lambics and a little white lie later, Ashlea knew she'd met her match. But not in the way she'd imagined.
In an odd intersection of initials, A.D. Amorosi talks to L.A. Banks, author of the Vampire Huntress series. West Philadelphia born and raised, Banks went from Girls High grad to horror master, giving rise to legions of fans for her vampire-slaying heroine, Damali Richards. Banks dishes on spoken word, Wesley Snipes and her love of Creature Double Feature.
In addition to our usual nonfiction and fiction reviews, we enlisted Trish Boppert to trek up Germantown Avenue and down South Street to find out what Philly's been reading and why (with more of these at www.citypaper.net).
Summer reading can be like the sweetest summer romance ... easy, breezy and thrilling.
Even if it only lasts one night.
Many thanks to our brave and beautiful editorial art director Reseca Glasser for posing at the intersection of 15th Street and JFK for the cover. She endured bemused stares and incessant questions about what she was selling. We knew our conceit had succeeded, though, when an older gentleman leaned out of his pickup and asked, "Whatcha readin' sweetheart?"