BUZZ BOOKS

An outpouring of love for Latino icons

It was a busy weekend for Libreria Martinez Books and Art Gallery in Santa Ana. Hundreds of visitors stopped by the store Friday night and Saturday afternoon to meet two Latino icons with wildly different followings: Isabel Allende and Renan Almendarez Coello, a.k.a. “El Cucuy.”

Both drew crowds that waited for hours and lined a city block, although Allende’s fans were more reverential, more literary. Many toted several volumes and seemed more interested in “The House of the Spirits” and other titles than her latest, “City of Beasts,” an Amazon adventure story with a teenage protagonist that bookstore owner Rueben Martinez compared to Harry Potter.

Allende read excerpts from “City” before retiring to a back room to greet a lengthy receiving line. Fans brought her roses and begged for a few extra seconds to take snapshots with her. Mostly they showered her with compliments in English and Spanish. A soft-spoken young man in a T-shirt with pictures of llamas on it didn’t say much to get a few precious extra seconds with Allende; he simply leaned in to kiss her cheek, then turned and walked away happily, as if just touching her face was a brush with royalty.

The next morning visitors began stopping by at 8 a.m., lining up hours ahead of the scheduled 2 p.m. appearance by Coello, better known as “El Cucuy de la Manana,” a Spanish-language radio personality who hosts a show filled with chat, silly skits and inspirational messages.

Coello’s syndicated show, broadcast in Los Angeles (KSCA-FM 101.9) and seven other cities, outdraws Howard Stern 2 to 1 and has been the No. 1 radio show in Southern California for over two years. Coello didn’t read from his book, “El Cucuy de la Manana: My Life in Radio’s Fast Lane,” which details his rise from a poverty-stricken youth in Honduras, but fans seemed to understand his message.

Coello made his way inside the store like a faith healer, reaching out to touch anyone in his path. He took time to embrace and speak with individual fans, and his signing lasted for hours. As he caressed the cheek of a little girl in a wheelchair, tears began to slide down her mother’s face. His handlers took names and numbers of fans who needed help. Despite a nickname that translates as “boogeyman,” Coello has a reputation for raising funds for charitable causes in the U.S. and Latin America. Martinez predicts Coello’s book will make history as the first Spanish-language work to hit the New York Times bestseller list. Fernando Schiantarelli, who wrote the text, was more cautious, noting the book will be sold in unusual venues. “This book will be sold in corner stores and grocery stores, not just in Barnes and Noble. It will be the first and last book most of these people buy.”

A middle-age woman with a mouthful of gold crowns and a yellow plastic rosary finally got her moment. Coello spoke softly to her, then gave her a goodbye pat on the top of her head; her hair was tied in a topknot with a gauzy blue drugstore headpiece. “Que linda [how pretty],” he said. She beamed like a beauty contest winner.

-- Anne Valdespino

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A master of moodiness

An unsettlingly raunchy crime caper, “Plainclothes Naked” (William Morrow) is the down-and-dirty tale of a sex-obsessed crackhead, a codeine-addicted cop and a murderous femme fatale. In other words, quintessential Jerry Stahl.

A premier writer of the sarcastic and disturbingly raw, Stahl’s mood was a perfect match for his new material at Skylight Books, where a cult following of 25 or so fans had battled the hipster hustle and bustle of Silver Lake on a Friday night to meet the man capable of creating such compellingly deviant characters. Stahl, however, seemed disappointed with the turnout.

Displaying the dark humor for which he is famous, he thanked everyone for coming: “I know it’s a big television night,” he said, cracking the spine on his new novel to read a couple of segments. The material drew titters and guffaws but Stahl, once again, seemed disgruntled.

“A massive nonseller, this book is,” he said, putting down “Plainclothes Naked” and moving on to “Permanent Midnight” -- his critically acclaimed 1995 memoir that played the highs of his television writing career off the lows of his various drug addictions.

More familiar with his earlier material, the audience rewarded him with bigger laughs. Still, Stahl was determined to make a quick exit. He grabbed his books from the podium and wandered off. When a bookstore employee asked if he wanted to answer questions, he replied with characteristic pessimism: “No one ever has any questions.”

Fortunately for his fans, Stahl’s dour mood will, most likely, yield more great writing in the future.

-- Susan Carpenter