One of the truly original writers of 20th-century Los Angeles.
—Kevin Dettmar, The Atlantic
There’s something divine about Babitz’s vision of the world, mixed with some incandescent undercurrent of delusion—sordid, surreal, and alienated from reality. . . . Every essay lurches as unpredictably as Babitz’s prose, toggling rapidly between sneering and leering. But even when Babitz leers, it’s like the Pope waving through the glass of his Popemobile: her leering conveys a blessing.
—Heather Havrilevsky, Air Mail
Zesty essays by a sly observer . . . [Babitz] gathers nearly 40 personal essays, book reviews, travel pieces, and celebrity profiles, published between 1976 and 1997, that give ebullient testimony to her colorful, star-studded past . . . A spirited, entertaining collection.
As clearly as a great snapshot, [Babitz’s] best passages capture fleeting sensations, particularly pleasurable ones. . . . The [title] essay wryly tracks these surges of pleasure and desire, even as pain threatens to overwhelm every other feeling. As in the best of Babitz’s earlier work, you can almost feel the agony of her physical therapy and almost taste the tuna sandwich that is the first food she truly craves after surgery.
—Megan Marz, The Times Literary Supplement
Eve Babitz has done as much as anyone (except maybe the very different Joan Didion) to define an L.A. state of mind. She’s fun to read and her essays stay with you for weeks after you read them, teasing your mind with insight after indelible insight.< br/>—Michael Silverblatt, KCRW, “Best of 2019: Books"
After all these years it seems Babitz is finally the literary ‘It' girl she always thought herself to be.
—Merle Ginsberg, Los Angeles Magazine
There’s Adam, and then there is of course Eve Babitz. There are those who call her a party girl, but in truth she documented her times and social world in Southern California as if she was Charles Dickens. Or perhaps Marcel Proust.
The most charming writer I’ve read in years.
—Geoff Dyer, The Threepenny Review
A writer who’s given a steep amount of pleasure over the past year. That writer is the Los Angeles–born glamour girl, bohemian, artist, muse, sensualist, wit and pioneering foodie Eve Babitz, whose prose reads like Nora Ephron’s by way of Joan Didion, albeit with more lust and drugs and tequila.
—Dwight Garner, The New York Times
Eve is to prose what Chet Baker, with his light, airy style, lyrical but also rhythmic, detached but also sensuous, is to jazz, or what Larry Bell, with his glass confections, the lines so clean and fresh and buoyant, is to sculpture. She’s a natural. Or gives every appearance of being one, her writing elevated yet slangy, bright, bouncy, cheerfully hedonistic—L.A. in its purest, most idealized form.
—Lili Anolik, Vanity Fair
If her books are any indication, she seems to have known more about life at an early age than most of us figure out before we die.
—Holly Brubach, The New York Times
One of the best writers about LA in American literature.
—Laura Pearson, Chicago Tribune
Her writing took multiple forms, from romans à clef to essayistic cultural commentaries to reviews to urban-life vignettes to short stories. But in the center was always Babitz and her sensibility—fun and hot and smart, a Henry James–loving party girl.
—Naomi Fry, The New Republic
Babitz thought she’d die at thirty; she’s now 78 and witnessing her own resurrection. Youth was not wasted on her, and she crammed her life into her sentences. . . . She made showing off a sort of politeness—an obligation to give the reader a good time.
—Lucie Elven, London Review of Books