Los Angeles is a fun place. It’s also a pretty silly place—a place that tries to invent the fashions and create the trends. And the world is just an enabler, letting L.A. get away with it.
Which gives L.A.’s silliness a self-importance it probably doesn’t deserve.
But the best of that brand of uber-hip ridiculousness is self-aware. The people who know they are ridiculous—who are serious about their art some of the time but almost nothing else the rest of the time—make L.A. a fun place.
Hensley wrote up that side of Hollywood, using the jaded, pop-media-saturated 20-something zietgiest that I’m so familiar with.
The title refers to the area code of the downtown/Hollywood area—part of the zip and area code caste system that allows one group to look down on another. The TV star actress, the painfully gay screenwriter and the chubby actress friend start it off, and it takes off from there.
A cast of characters go around on unlikely adventures through L.A. I would usually dismiss this kind of book, but I actually enjoyed this one. Having lived here for a while, I find it more believable than I otherwise would.
This is a fun read, not a challenging thought in it. But it’s engaging enough to read it to the end.