In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Hanif Abdurraqib, Andrew Sean Greer, Roxane Gay, and many others.
Tomas Moniz is the rare writer whose books are charming in the best of ways. The King of Aloe Vera, his third novel, brings together a septuagenarian widower and 21-year-old queer woman in a love letter to San Francisco both present and past.
Kirkus wrote of the book:
“One of the best parts of this truly sweet and never cloying novel is the tension between Rey’s willingness to venture out of his comfort zone (as when he discovers a velour Gucci tracksuit suits him well) and his determination to enjoy his quiet pleasures (bananas drizzled with honey, a barbacoa burrito). Beneath the sweetness lies deep sadness, and a choice Rey considers that will remind readers that grief takes many forms and can last a long, long time. The characters are so authentically rendered . . . readers will root for them.”
In his own words, here is Tomas Moniz’s Book Notes music playlist for his novel The King of Aloe Vera:
I experienced a momentary wave of panic when I thought about writing this essay for Largehearted Boy. The reason for my concern: I barely mentioned any music in my new novel: The King of Aloe Vera, though now that I think about it Christmas carols do feature prominently in a key scene, which immediately gave me pause considering the possible marketing strategies around the holidays…could this help sell books?
And, of course, this train of thought left me aghast, chiding myself: Marketing? Sales? What have I become, to quote Saint Reznor.
You see, I love reading the essays other writers craft for the site: the playlists that provide inspiration, the way I feel so seen reading stories of how music provides focus and energy and release. Then it hit me: I may not mention songs or cite catchy pop lyrics in the story, but the book references so many places specific to musical life in the Bay Area: venues, events, bars. Everywhere in the Bay music thrives.
So here is my article’s premise: you all should consider visiting these places when you travel to the Bay.
So let’s start with them Christmas carols and the Davis Symphony Hall (201 Van Ness Ave, SF). For a period of maybe 5 years I was Carpool Karaoke Dad driving my tween daughter and 3 of her fellow SF Girls Chorus members to rehearsal, speeding over the Bay Bridge from Berkeley to avoid the late afternoon commuter traffic. Once there, I’d wait in a room adjacent to the practice hall, and there would be this moment when all the chatter would stop and their voices, my god, would rise and join into this harmonious, beautiful wave of sound. So if you visit the City in December, check out their Annual Winter Concert, but all year long, the SF Symphony hosts wide-ranging events. Plus they just hired a super young hip female conductor that people are celebrating: Elim Chan.
The next venue is easy: go to El Rio (3158 Mission St, SF) because it’s so much more than a bar. It’s a union organizing hot spot, particularly for teachers and it gets crazy every last day of school! El Rio hosts many community centered events: I’ve shucked oysters for charity, read poems and celebrated Pride, wound up there post various protests. I’ve witnessed dozens of bands, the highlight: The Coup with Boots Riley and Pam the Funktress (RIP). It’s a genuine SF musical and cultural landmark, a truly radical space.
Which, of course, leads me and hopefully you to the East Bay and its legendary 924 Gilman (yes, located at 924 Gilman, Berkeley). This is a bucket list trip, like paying homage to the former CBGB building in NYC (another RIP) or The Troupador in LA. Gilman (as the kids call it) truly puts its politics into practice. Well, it’s not perfect and there are a number of books and documentaries to learn about its history of volunteering and political organizing and fighting dumb ass Nazis and sometimes fighting their own community, but trust me go see a show: buy your yearly membership card (it’s 5 bucks and fits in your wallet and no you can’t by it online, only at the door), sit on the sticky couches, read a zine from the library, purchase earplugs, brave the bathrooms. And you have to take a selfie in front of the famous sign at the entrance:
● NO RACISM
● NO SEXISM
● NO HOMOPHOBIA
● NO TRANSPHOBIA
● NO ALCOHOL
● NO DRUGS
● NO FIGHTING
● NO STAGEDIVING
● NO MAJOR LABEL BANDS.
You probably won’t see the next Green Day, but hey, you just might. Also, you never know: you might see me!
also at Largehearted Boy:
Tomas Moniz’s playlist for his novel All Friends Are Necessary
Tomas Moniz is a Latinx writer living in East Oakland, CA. His debut novel, Big Familia, was a finalist for the 2020 PEN/Hemingway and a Lambda Literary Award. His second novel, All Friends Are Necessary, won the 2024 California Golden Poppy Award. He teaches at Berkeley City College, the Antioch MFA program and St. Mary’s College. He has stuff on the internet but loves penpals: PO Box 3555, Berkeley CA 94703. He promises to write back.