Ahhhhh, my darling friends, we did it. Renee Rosen, Karen Abbott and I walked for our cake. Six miles each way, and worth every step.

Renee stopped to buy band-aids to rescue her feet. We found an unholy looking pair of abandoned underwear on the sidewalk somewhere in the vicinity of Clark & Belmont. We found even more unholy objects scattered on the grounds of Graceland Cemetery. We debated scaling the fence to look for interesting tombstones. We paused at the Hopleaf for refreshments that would fortify us for the (short) rest of the journey.

And although there were some murmurs of protest along the way, we eventually reached nirvana.

Sort of.

Here’s the thing: The selection of cakes that day was more than a little underwhelming. Now, if I’m honest, I’m not even a big fan of sweets. Give me something salty instead. But after six miles, I was starting to kind of bond with the visions of carrot cake floating in my head.

They didn’t have any.

And I wasn’t the only one disappointed. Renee wanted more options. Karen wanted peanut butter. I was stuck on carrot. Karen and I had to get cupcakes. Cupcakes! Mere shadows–crumbs–compared to the enormous slices we’ve come to depend upon. And Renee, who on principle refused to settle, was distraught when presented with a relatively reasonably-sized piece of white cake. Sure it would have over-fed two people, but we’re used to getting a quarter of an entire three-layer cake.

Still, we soldiered on. Who really needs that much cake anyway? The sugar in what little we had was enough to make us forsake the el and walk all the way back, which was a good decision. Had we taken the train, we would have missed the hopelessly intoxicated couple skirmishing with the police near Wrigley Field (we’re talking at least five hours post-Cubs game). And a woman, oblivious to the fact that her face was covered with mayonnaise, sitting in the window of a restaurant and devouring a sandwich. And we certainly wouldn’t have stopped to sign books at Borders. You know how delighted booksellers are to welcome sweaty, grungy, icing-covered authors.

All in all, a good day.

Yes, day. Do you have any idea how long it takes to walk twelve miles? We’re thinking we’ll do it again this weekend…

But in the meantime, let’s have a drink. Joining us today is an author I simply adore. Jonathan Santlofer is not only an obscenely talented writer, he’s also an amazing artist–his latest novel, Anatomy of Fear: A Novel of Visual Suspense, includes sketches, and you ought to check it out (read: buy multiple copies), um, now.

Jonathan Santlofer’s Sangria

1 bottle dry red wine (shiraz or Cabernet is best)
1 cup orange juice
1 lemon
1 lime
1 orange
1 apple
2-3 TBS sugar
1 cup rum

Cut up the fruit, pick out the seeds, and put in a pitcher with the rum. Chill for 2 hours. Then add wine and OJ and add the sugar according to your taste, chill another hour and that’s it. Pour over ice. It’s great for a summer party. It tastes like fruit juice so your guests drink a lot and get so drunk it’s embarrassing.

I, lucky girl, am currently crashing at Renee’s house. Renee, baby, are we going to make this today or what?

TASHA: Aside from yourself, who are the three best contemporary artists working in the US?

JONATHAN: You will have to trust me when I say I am not in the top three or even the top ten, Tasha. But I’ll have another glass of sangria while I mull it over. I’m basically a Vodka drinker but I was in Spain recently and everyone was drinking Sangria and now I want to start my day with it. Okay, best artists . . . An impossible question, there are so many, but at this particular moment I’ll say Eric Fischl because every time I see his paintings I wish I’d made them; Judy Pfaff, who has been making the most amazing sculpture for 40 years; and a younger artist named Tom Burkhardt. I own a small painting of his but I wish I owned more. I always use real art and artists in my novels because my readers say they like my two line art history lessons. Everyone’s favorite so far has been the performance artist in THE DEATH ARTIST who nails his penis to a table. I did not make that up. But he’s dead now and it had nothing to do with the nail. He died of asthma. Go figure.

ERIC: If you had to work a soul-sucking 9-to-5 job, what would you pick and would you be good at it?

JONATHAN: Art dealer. Because I know I could convince people to spend thousands of dollars buying things they do not need though I’d hate myself in the morning. I have two art dealers in THE DEATH ARTIST, one terrific and one hideous. Guess which one I kill off?

MAGGIE: What is your preferred weapon?

JONATHAN: Such a dirty thought came into my mind but I’m going to ignore it and say that I am an equal opportunity weapon employer. In THE DEATH ARTIST I use everything and there are like a dozen murders - it’s a bloodbath. In COLOR BLIND it’s a knife, many times. In THE KILLING ART it’s also a knife. I’m starting to see a pattern here. In ANATOMY OF FEAR it’s a gun, a knife, then another gun. In real life I think I’d poison someone with botulism-tainted food and say, Oh, it must have leaked out of her wrinkles.

ERIC: Hire a hitman or do it yourself?

JONATHAN: Hit man. No question. Unless I’ve had a lot to drink so give me another sangria! There’s a hit man in ANATOMY OF FEAR who shoots a guy between the eyes while he’s eating Cherry Garcia ice cream. It’s all in the details.

TASHA: What’s the last great book you read?

JONATHAN: I just finished BLINK by Malcolm Gladwell, and I really enjoyed it. He has a chapter on face-reading expert Paul Ekman. I’m very interested in him because my protagonist in ANATOMY OF FEAR, Nate Rodriguez, is a police sketch artist who is devoted to Ekman and studies face reading for his work. Before that, every book Phillip Roth ever wrote and J. M. Coetzee’s DISGRACE, which is so great and so depressing and so damn beautiful I just wanted to give up and never write another word.

KRISTY: Describe your ultimate meal.

JONATHAN: Cookies and milk. Although this makes me sound as if I am ten. I’m basically a peasant so give me simple food and plenty to drink. I think some of my favorite meals have been prepared by my friend the artist Catherine Murphy, who I would definitely include in my top ten best. She’s an amazing cook and I always eat way too much when she cooks. My wife is a food historian who hates to cook, so I am happy if anyone feeds me.

TASHA: You need to bring your wife over and I’ll cook for you both. Let me know what you want….

OK, is Jonathan not the best? Don’t you want to cook for him too? Before you start planning the menu, take a minute to answer his questions in the comments:

-Here is one for the women. Versace or Armani? The heroine of my first three books, Kate McKinnon, wears Armani. She thinks Versace is for rock stars, showgirls, and whores. I wouldn’t have known the difference before I created Kate, but now I know. My daughter is my fashion consultant for Kate - and for me. She says I’m her Ken doll. Speaking of which, I had GI Joe when I was a kid, which is basically the boy equivalent of Barbie, minus the hair.

- Vodka: Absolut or Kettle One? I think there is no contest but you choose. Do a taste test.

A million thanks to Jonathan for subjecting himself to our questions! Pick up a copy of Anatomy of Fear now. Then and only then we will let you have another glass of sangria….

xo
Tasha

P.S. For more on the infamous Cake Walk, click here…

P.P.S. Picture from last night’s Book Extravaganza here. Yes, that’s us at Chuck E. Cheese in Schaumburg, Illinois, celebrating the launch of Dirty Martini, the latest in J.A. Konrath’s fantastic Jack Daniels series.