I sat down with my own, John Reed’s Ten Days That Shook the World, and quickly found myself unusually immersed. Somehow, it was easier to read among other readers. After about half an hour, some kind soul passed around snacks.

There’s no shortage of people saying that it’s rare, nowadays, to find people who read. The Atlantic, the Guardian, and the New Yorker have raised concerns about declining readership among 9-year-olds and college students alike. Researchers often attribute the phenomenon to how smartphones, and particularly applications such as Instagram, wreaking havoc on our attention span. At the same time, others decry the loss of public spaces, a process that rapidly increased during the COVID-19 pandemic. People are picking streaming platforms over cinema halls; even parks are increasingly privatized.

But amid these twin crises, a new phenomenon has taken root in New Delhi: weekly reading clubs.

Perhaps ironically, I first learned about these communities on Instagram. I saw an account named “Lodhi Reads,” which had pictures of weekly meet-ups and information about future dates. The group met every Sunday in Lodhi Garden.

It was not the first reading club I had stumbled upon. During the pandemic, I was part of an online reading circle that would discuss socio-political texts on caste, capitalism, feminism, and surveillance. I participated enthusiastically—often volunteering to make posters to promote the sessions—but something seemed amiss. It wasn’t the material being discussed or the people; both were more than adequate in keeping the circle interesting. It was the fact that we were “meeting” online. Though I appreciated the effort to create a sense of community among readers, the Google Meet format was not for me.

So, with an interest in finding a real-life community among readers, I ventured out to Lodhi Gardens and spent three hours immersed in my book on a Sunday evening in June. I found the group easily, having seen the photos and description on Instagram.

Ankush Pal shares how he found a community of readers at Lodhi Reads. Courtesy of Lodhi Reads.

Afterward, I reached out to the curator, Ritika, on Instagram. She informed me that the group was inspired by Bangalore-based “Cubbon Reads,” which got its start in December 2022. Two friends, Harsh Snehanshu and Shruti Sah, would cycle to Cubbon Park to read and post pictures on their social media accounts. The posts attracted their friends to join them, and eventually more and more people started showing up. Cubbon Reads’ success started a flurry of similar groups popping up across the country—the second of which was Lodhi Reads. Today, there are a few other reading clubs in Delhi and neighboring regions—and the trend has even “gone global.”

A parallel experiment called Delhi Reads also got its start in December 2022. Two women, Molina and Paridhi, both graduates of the University of Delhi, met at a coffee shop after becoming friends through the social media platform Twitter (now X). Realizing there were few spaces in the city for young people that weren’t divided by education and social class—especially in the post-COVID era—they decided to do something about it.

While other reading circles get together in a particular spot to read silently, members of Delhi Reads meet once or twice a month to discuss whatever they have been reading and thinking about. Though it started as a book club, the group now focuses more on creating a sense of community; lately, the organizers have been experimenting with other activities, such as organizing film screenings and a local bookstore tour.

As my evening at Lodhi Reads came to a close, I realized that I’d gotten halfway through a book that I had been putting off picking back up for about a year, without even noticing that it was getting dark. All the participants gathered and organized their books in a pile so that someone could click a picture for Lodhi Reads’ Instagram account. On my way out of Lodhi Gardens, a fellow attendee struck up a conversation with me about the book I’d been carrying. They were interested in what the author had to say about the Russian Revolution and noticed that my copy had been published prior to the fall of the Soviet Union. Before we had formally met one another, our books had already struck up a dialogue. I went home filled with a unique sensation: having spoken few words yet being silently sure that I belonged.

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The post Sculptor Charles Dickson appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

“We are the hub of a community,” asserted Crenshaw High School principal Donald Moorer, who opened Thursday’s Zócalo event. It was the first in a series partnering with Destination Crenshaw, the organization behind the 1.3-mile-long public art and infrastructure project being erected along Crenshaw Boulevard.

The event was an invitation for panelists and audience members to consider the community stakes of the ambitious project—which includes pocket parks and original artworks by Alison Saar, Maren Hassinger, and Kehinde Wiley—and what it means for Black history, Black art, and Black success.

The event’s title, “How Do You Grow a Rose From Concrete?,” was inspired by the famous Tupac Shakur poem, “The Rose That Grew From Concrete.” And as the project’s concrete is still being laid, some of the visionaries behind it took the stage at Crenshaw High: architect Gabrielle Bullock, Los Angeles City Councilmember Marqueece Harris-Dawson, and Destination Crenshaw senior art advisor V. Joy Simmons.

They took turns asking one another questions, co-moderating the event—a format that held true to the sense of co-creation, collaboration, community, and contribution that all of them hope Destination Crenshaw will instill in each person who finds themselves in its midst.

Simmons asked the councilmember, a “son of South Los Angeles” whose mother was one the first people to graduate from Crenshaw High, what the Crenshaw Corridor was like when he was growing up. “The thing I remember most,” he said, “was that there was always motion.” Whether it was cars bouncing on hydraulics, young people doing the latest dance moves, entrepreneurs sweeping in front of their storefronts, or churchgoers coming and going, Crenshaw is “where life happens, where we witness what others are doing.”

When Crenshaw got wind that L.A. Metro was expanding a new train line and potentially cutting through their neighborhood—without stopping—Harris-Dawson was part of early efforts to win a Leimert Park station.

“This train could be a knockout punch” for the neighborhood, he said, transforming real estate, safety, and its connection to the rest of the city. For Harris-Dawson and others, one aim was undeniable: “We set out to do a project that would make us permanent in the City of Los Angeles. So no matter what happens going forward, there’s not going to be a situation where you get to say we were never here.”

That spirit of visibility—to be seen for what Crenshaw is—is one of the main reasons the train will be overground. In those earlier days, at the same time that Crenshaw community members were fighting for the train to be underground, Beverly Hills was fighting for it to stay above. Harris-Dawson asked why, and learned that they wanted to display what they had to offer: their shops, businesses, restaurants, museums, landscapes. Crenshaw could do that, too.

Drawing on an understanding that people will oppose what you do to them and embrace what you do with them, Harris-Dawson got community buy-in from businesses, neighbors, and leaders along the way. In fact, the construction site was able to get over 70% of its workforce from local hires, Destination Crenshaw president and COO Jason Foster noted later.

“I want the people of South Los Angeles to feel like it’s theirs,” Harris-Dawson said, just as other Los Angeles areas like Boyle Heights and Chinatown feel a sense of ownership over their neighborhoods. He also hoped that because consumers of Black culture would have to come to Crenshaw to experience this cultural project, the neighborhood could prosper.

“This project for me is a gift,” said Bullock, who co-led the design for Destination Crenshaw. Like Harris-Dawson’s efforts, the architecture firm Perkins&Will gave the people of Crenshaw power in design voice, she said. “In the end, we are merely interpreters.”

Bullock has been involved with other large-scale projects that highlight Black America: the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C.; the National Center of Civil and Human Rights in Atlanta, Georgia; and Emancipation Park in Houston, Texas.

How does Destination Crenshaw compare? Simmons asked.

Because the project’s origin is in the community and will represent them, Bullock said, it is unique.

At one of the first “visioning workshops,” where community members were encouraged to bring an artifact or object that meant something to them related to Crenshaw, LA Commons founder and community leader Karen Mack brought in an image of the Sankofa bird, whose turning head is meant to symbolize the need to look to the past in order to move forward.

Hence, Sankofa Park will be the largest gathering area at Destination Crenshaw. The park itself has elements shaped like the bird, and on its highest viewing deck, you are able to look back and see where you’ve come from. “It’s about storytelling,” Bullock said.

The story Destination Crenshaw tells was important to Simmons, too. As the art and exhibition advisor, she selected artists who told a generational story of Crenshaw—ranging from in their 20s to 96 years old. There will be a sculpture on car culture by Charles Dickson (who will join the second event in this series, on May 31). And the RTN Crew will once again adorn the Crenshaw Wall with a new incarnation of mural art. Simmons noted that since at least the 1970s, the retaining wall has captured traces of the community through art, serving as a sort of public canvas. “I wanted us to understand that we are not a monolith,” she said of her selections.

All the panelists shared what they hope people will feel and take away from this project: that people feel seen, feel the intentional work put into it, and go away with a sense of the excellence of Black Los Angeles.

Many members of the in-person audience had deep roots in Crenshaw, which was made clear during the Q&A period that followed the talk. One questioner was the daughter of a former principal of Crenshaw High, another was a community historian.

One audience member asked where the late Crenshaw rapper Nipsey Hussle was in all of this. The name Destination Crenshaw, in fact, was inspired by Hussle, who thought it should be called that to mark the historic Los Angeles community as such: a destination, in bloom.

The post For Crenshaw, By Crenshaw appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

Illustration by Ruby Alvarado. Courtesy of artworxla.

The public square is the meeting ground where people make society happen. In these spaces, physical or metaphorical or digital, we work through our shared dramas and map our collective hopes. Ideally, the public square provides room to solve the problems we face. It is also where new, thorny issues often arise.

This “Up for Discussion” is part of Zócalo’s editorial and events series spotlighting the ideas, places, and questions that have shaped the public square that Zócalo has created over the past 20 years.

For this fifth and final installment, we pulled in people working to understand our contentious public debates. From vitriolic fights over race, gender, and sexuality to the polarized, partisan brawls over policy to the protests cropping up across U.S. campuses, our contributors share how we might make civil discourse more civil.

They tell us: How do we disagree in public?

The post How Do We Disagree in the Public Square? appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

Illustration by Samantha Duran. Courtesy of artworxla.

The public square is the meeting ground where people make society happen. In these spaces, physical or metaphorical or digital, we work through our shared dramas and map our collective hopes. Ideally, the public square provides room to solve the problems we face. It is also where new, thorny issues often arise.

This “Up for Discussion” is part of Zócalo’s editorial and events series spotlighting the ideas, places, and questions that have shaped the public square Zócalo has created over the past 20 years.

Here, our contributors consider the rich building blocks of the public square: personal connections. In our segmented, often lonely world, they are shaking off the blues on the dance floor, telling tall tales over breakfast, and forming friendships through a seven-and-a-half-year-long book club.

They help us answer: How do we find connection in the public square?

The post How Do We Find Connection in the Public Square? appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

Illustration by Ruby Alvarado. Courtesy of artworxLA.

The public square is the meeting ground where people make society happen. In these spaces, physical or metaphorical or digital, we work through our shared dramas and map our collective hopes. Ideally, the public square provides room to solve the problems we face. It is also where new, thorny issues often arise.

This “Up for Discussion” is part of Zócalo’s editorial and events series spotlighting the ideas, places, and questions that have shaped the public square Zócalo has created over the past 20 years.

Close to the ground, our contributors here take us from a mountainside greenspace in Los Angeles to a fishing village in Peru. From their respective corners of the public square, they show us how we might foster—and preserve—local community.

The post What Should Your Local Public Square Look Like? appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

Lucky for you, we have an antidote to both forms of apathy. This year’s Zócalo Book Prize shortlist includes five nonfiction books, all published in the past year, that dig deep into the forces that strengthen or undermine social cohesion, human connectedness, and community.

We have awarded the Book Prize annually since 2011. Stay tuned for the announcement of our winner in late March and our event honoring the author(s) in June in downtown Los Angeles. Special thanks to screenwriter and philanthropist Tim Disney for returning to sponsor the 2024 prize.

In the meantime, we invite you to join our selection committee in reading and considering these titles, which explore subjects as divisive as guns and migration and things as mundane as finding a parking spot—and how they both bring us together and threaten to tear us apart.

Congratulations, again, to:

• Greg Berman and Aubrey Fox, authors of Gradual: The Case for Incremental Change in a Radical Age

• Myisha Cherry, author of Failures of Forgiveness: What We Get Wrong and How to Do Better

• Henry Grabar, author of Paved Paradise: How Parking Explains the World

• Cameron McWhirter and Zusha Elinson, authors of American Gun: The True Story of the AR-15

• Héctor Tobar, author of Our Migrant Souls: A Meditation on Race and the Meanings and Myths of “Latino”

And we thank our selection committee: 2023 Zócalo Book Prize winner and The Fight to Save the Town author Michelle Wilde Anderson; Human Rights Watch chief communications officer Mei Fong; Marquette University historian Sergio González; creative director and Zócalo advisory board member David Lai; infectious disease specialist and professor of medicine Rekha Murthy, MD; Lawrence Welk Family Foundation president Lisa Parker; Smithsonian National Board chair Jorge Puente, MD; LAXART director and curator Hamza Walker.

The post The 2024 Zócalo Book Prize Winner Is Coming Soon appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

The Living Room is the oldest standing Black-owned bar in Los Angeles. Located in the heart of the West Adams district and previously known as Barry’s Cocktail Lounge, the bar has silently woven itself into the fabric of South L.A. since its founding in the 1940s.

Though I’ve lived in the same neighborhood as the Living Room my whole life, I didn’t learn of its existence until I was 30.

It began with a simple Yelp search.

That year, I decided to leave behind the inertia of my corporate career in hospitality to pursue a dream: returning to school to study journalism. I was looking for work near my home to help support my son and me while I followed this ambition. When I searched for businesses near me, the Living Room popped up, located just three minutes away from my home.

The author (left) and the Living Room’s owner Susan Carnell. Courtesy of author.

The photos on the Living Room’s Yelp page were somewhat outdated, but I liked the vibe that they gave off. The environment seemed relaxed; the crowd, who appeared older, didn’t come off as too “Hollywood.” I dialed the number listed on the website. The conversation that followed with Susan, the owner—who had herself tended bar there in her earlier years—was my first step into a world that I had never known, yet immediately felt connected to.

I’d gone to bartending school years earlier, but had never picked up gigs before. I had decided at the time that my hospitality work was a more important use of my time (how ironic, right?). So, during the call with Susan, I puffed up my experience, citing expertise from hosting private events and past restaurant service. Though my skills were confined to informal settings, like bartending at my sister’s parties, the determination in my voice must have landed me the interview.

Then came the reality check. Susan asked me to make a Cadillac margarita. The drink I mixed, though it reflected my earnest effort, lacked its defining Grand Marnier topping. Her reaction was direct: “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, do you?”

I laughed, admitting my inexperience, and promised to learn quickly. Impressed by my honesty and willingness to learn, Susan offered me a chance to train with their seasoned bartenders the next day. She wasn’t just offering me a job, but an invitation to become part of a community and a legacy.

The Living Room proved to be the perfect environment for balancing my studies and parental duties. Once I became comfortable with the bar (and finally learned to make drinks without having to Google the recipes first), I started bringing my laptop to work, utilizing any downtime to study and complete my assignments. Many of my customers turned out to be leading educators and writers, and they helped me with my schoolwork. One retired professor who frequented the bar, in particular, provided invaluable feedback on my writing. Since it had been about 13 years since I last attended school, I was grateful for the support.

The Living Room mirrors the comfort of a real living room. Courtesy of author.

I had been working at the Living Room for about a year when the COVID-19 pandemic struck. It hit us hard. Bars were one of the first types of businesses to shut down and among the last to reopen, and the Living Room faced additional challenges since we didn’t have an outdoor area that was required to continue operating. Undeterred, we transformed one of our parking lots into an outdoor dining experience. For reasons we still don’t fully understand, we were denied loans and grants, making it an uphill battle to keep the establishment afloat. But neighbors and regulars rallied to support us, transforming adversity into an opportunity for solidarity. They hired food trucks to come to the parking lot and worked with restaurants to donate tables and chairs for a patio-style bar. They chipped in to get us a big-screen TV so that we could still watch sports, and somebody even built a TV unit with wheels for easy transport.

Leveraging my own skills, I took charge of the Living Room’s social media presence, using platforms like Facebook and Instagram to reconnect with our community and attract new patrons. This digital push helped bring back the vibrant life of the bar post-lockdown, drawing in both loyal locals and newcomers intrigued by the charm and history that the Living Room offered.

Thanks to this persistence and community support, the Living Room is still here, representing the enduring spirit of the people it brings together.

As I sit on a couch in the Living Room writing this piece now, I am surrounded by the familiar faces of customers who have become like family to me. Observing their interactions and shared joy, I’m reminded of the countless memories that we’ve created together within these walls.

The Living Room has become the place I go when I need to lift my spirits or seek a moment of solace with a refreshing cocktail or just someone to talk to. It’s a venue that accommodates various aspects of my life—from intimate moments on a first date, where a deck of cards can lead to a deep connection, to lively gatherings with friends and coworkers. It’s where I celebrate life’s milestones—every birthday, graduation, and this year, my acceptance into grad school to get my master’s in mass communication.

Fridays at the Living Room are for karaoke, where my friends and I revel in the joy of singing our hearts out in a comfortable and familiar setting. On Saturdays, the live band draws in music enthusiasts, creating a vibrant atmosphere that’s perfect for a night out.

In a neighborhood that’s often marginalized, the Living Room serves as a lifeline. Despite West Adams’ rich cultural and historical significance, it continues to contend with economic disparities, historical neglect, and ongoing gentrification pressures. This makes the Living Room’s presence even more vital, providing emotional and social support to those who walk through its doors.

Its warm and welcoming atmosphere mirrors the comfort of a real living room. It’s set up like one, too, with couches, chandeliers, and TVs. It even has a doorbell: You have to ring it to get buzzed in, the act inviting you to enter and find a reprieve from the chaos of everyday life. For those seeking a place that feels like home, the Living Room has my unwavering recommendation, a beacon of hope and togetherness in South L.A.

The post Where I Go<span class="colon">:</span> L.A.’s Oldest Standing Black-Owned Bar appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

It’s Zócalo’s 20th birthday, and we hit the two decade milestone running—we hosted 21 events in 2023 to fulfill our mission of connecting people to ideas and to each other.

At our homebase at the ASU California Center in downtown Los Angeles, we discussed some of the biggest issues of the day—from artificial intelligence to surveillance. We enjoyed a special homecoming, hosting our first-ever event steps away from our namesake: Mexico City’s Plaza de la Constitución, otherwise known as the Zócalo, one of the largest public squares in the world. We traversed California, from Sacramento to Riverside, to discuss the needs of workers in low-wage sectors of the state’s economy. We traveled to Jackson, Mississippi, and to Memphis, Tennessee, to consider how sins of the past shape the present, and what might move us forward. We even threw a dance party—shout out to all 700 of you who boogied with us at the Port of L.A. on a Sunday afternoon!

Picking our favorite public programs each year is never easy, but these seven events reflect the variety of our work—and most importantly, kept us talking long after the discussions wrapped. Whether you came in person or watched virtually, you’re what makes our public square so robust. Thanks for being part of Zócalo, and we look forward to continuing the conversation next year.

Do We Need More Food Fights?

This emotional conversation and cooking demonstration brought together photographer Zahara Gómez Lucini, who compiled a cookbook that collects recipes from the families of desaparecidos—the tens of thousands of people who have gone missing in Mexico—and Maite Gomez-Rejón, a culinary historian and co-host of the “Hungry for History” podcast. Livestreamed and in person from LA Cocina de Gloria Molina’s demonstration kitchen in downtown L.A., the women prepared special guest Blanca Soto’s pozole from the cookbook and spoke about the power of a meal. Cooking does not just satisfy our hunger, they noted, but can also unite us, and in this case reunite us, with those who are no longer here. The special event, presented in partnership with LA Cocina de Gloria Molina and California Humanities, was part of our birthday series “What Connects Us?”

The 2023 Zócalo Book Prize: How Does a Community Save Itself? With Michelle Wilde Anderson

For 13 years, Zócalo has honored the author of the best nonfiction book that explores community and social connection, inviting them to visit us to collect their prize—$10,000 and a nifty Zócalo Rubik’s Cube—and deliver a lecture. In June, this year’s honoree Michelle Wilde Anderson arrived at a packed house at the ASU California Center and shared stories of hope from The Fight to Save the Town: Reimagining Discarded America, her book looking at the communities of Stockton, California; Josephine County, Oregon; Detroit, Michigan; and Lawrence, Massachusetts. “We have to invest in people where they live,” she told the evening’s moderator, Alberto Retana, president and CEO of South L.A.’s Community Coalition. The program also featured poet Paige Buffington, who joined us virtually to read her 2023 Zócalo Poetry Prize-winning submission, “From 20 Miles Outside of Gallup, Holbrook, Winslow, Farmington, or Albuquerque.” And, because this kicked off Zócalo’s 20th birthday celebration, the night ended with cake.

What Does Boxing Owe Its Champions?

The gloves were off at the ring (okay, the ASU California Center) as panelists—professional boxer and actress Kali “KO” Mequinonoag Reis, former middleweight champ Sergio “the Latin Snake” Mora, California State Athletic Commission executive director Andy Foster, and sport and ethnic studies scholar Rudy Mondragón—shared candid perspectives on the state of their sport. The discussion, presented in partnership with UCLA College, Division of Social Sciences and ASU Global Sport Institute, called for more protections for athletes and left the audience with a major question: What will be left of professional boxing if it does not do more to protect its athletes’ physical and financial well-being?

What Is a Good Job Now? For Fairness in the Workplace

What better way to get the attention of California politicians than by convening a conversation right on the Capitol steps in Sacramento? As part of the Zócalo Public Square series supported by The James Irvine Foundation, “What Is a Good Job Now?,” we brought together California State Senator Maria Elena Durazo, founding member of Inland Empire Amazon Workers United Sara Fee, and California Labor Commissioner assistant chief Daniel Yu for a memorable conversation on wage theft, unpaid overtime, dangerous working conditions, discrimination, and rising employer retaliation, moderated by our own Joe Mathews.

What Is the Value of Art?

Nobody called the fire department on us, but so many people showed up for this powerhouse night of arts and culture that we had to open a separate screening room. In anticipation of the international art fair Frieze Los Angeles, we curated a conversation on the state of the art world, inviting LAXART director Hamza Walker, artist and activist Andrea Bowers, writer and curator Helen Molesworth, and artist, cultural organizer, and co-founder of Meztli Projects Joel Garcia to break down some of artists’ greatest aesthetic, moral, and financial challenges, as well as their biggest opportunities for social change and community building.

How Does a Community Move With Music? A Diaspora Dance Party

We came. We shared our songs and stories of L.A. And we danced. We danced a lot. Zócalo’s first-ever dance party (another birthday series event), held at the Wilmington Waterfront Park at the Port of Los Angeles, was a smashing success. Los Angeles Times columnist Gustavo Arellano, the inaugural contributor to our ongoing “Diaspora Jukebox” playlist series, emceed. KCRW DJ Raul Campos and local Wilmington DJ Mario “Dred” Lopez kept the music flowing. Curation from Levitt Pavilion and performances by Pacifico Dance Company and Korean Classical Music and Dance Company wowed the crowd. If you needed a break from the dancing, we had food vendors, an art activation by LA Commons, and a pop-up Wilmington Art Walk at the ready. And glow sticks. So many glow sticks.

How Do We Hear America? A Special Evening of Music by Pulitzer Prize-Winning Composer Raven Chacon

We thought our final program of 2023 was pretty special, and you did, too: Zócalo’s audience voted “How Do We Hear America?” as the fan favorite event of the year. This night of music, co-presented with L.A.-based music collective wasteLAnd, ASU Gammage, and GRoW Annenberg, brought us together at the ASU California Center to watch and listen as the ensemble brought a selection of composer and musician Raven Chacon’s works to life. With our senses activated by the music and our bellies warm with tamales from Mama’s Tamales, and Tacos, Too, we think we ended the year on a high note.

The post Our Favorite Public Programs of 2023 appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.

What do incremental change, forgiveness, parking, guns, and race have in common? They are all forces that strengthen and/or undermine human connectedness, social cohesion, and community—and the subjects of the five books shortlisted for the 2024 Zócalo Book Prize.

Each year since 2011, Zócalo has honored the authors of nonfiction books on this broad topic, which has been central to our mission since our founding 20 years ago. This fall, publishers and authors submitted 180 books for consideration; our staff selected five shortlist titles to advance to our selection committee. We are delighted to recognize:

• Greg Berman and Aubrey Fox, authors of Gradual: The Case for Incremental Change in a Radical Age

• Myisha Cherry, author of Failures of Forgiveness: What We Get Wrong and How to Do Better

• Henry Grabar, author of Paved Paradise: How Parking Explains the World

• Cameron McWhirter and Zusha Elinson, authors of American Gun: The True Story of the AR-15

• Héctor Tobar, author of Our Migrant Souls: A Meditation on Race and the Meanings and Myths of “Latino”

Zócalo is grateful to screenwriter and philanthropist Tim Disney for his support of our literary prize program, which includes the 2024 Zócalo Poetry Prize (accepting submissions for original poems through January 22, 2024). We also thank this year’s selection committee: 2023 Zócalo Book Prize winner and The Fight to Save the Town author Michelle Wilde Anderson, Human Rights Watch chief communications officer Mei Fong, Marquette University historian Sergio González, creative director and Zócalo Advisory Board member David Lai, infectious disease specialist and professor of medicine Rekha Murthy, MD, Lawrence Welk Family Foundation president Lisa Parker, Smithsonian National Board chair Jorge Puente, MD, and LAXART director and curator Hamza Walker.

Stay tuned for the announcement of the 2024 winner of the Zócalo Book Prize in March. The winning author(s) will receive $10,000, deliver a lecture on their book, and take part in a live interview in the spring at the ASU California Center in Los Angeles. They’ll also join a distinguished group of our previous winners:

• Michelle Wilde Anderson, The Fight to Save the Town: Reimagining Discarded America (Avid Reader Press / Simon & Schuster)
• Heather McGhee for The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together (Penguin Random House)
• Jia Lynn Yang for One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 (W. W. Norton & Company)
• William Sturkey for Hattiesburg: An American City in Black and White (Belknap/Harvard University Press)
• Omer Bartov for Anatomy of a Genocide: The Life and Death of a Town Called Buczacz (Simon & Schuster)
• Michael Ignatieff for The Ordinary Virtues: Moral Order in a Divided World (Harvard University Press)
• Mitchell Duneier for Ghetto: The Invention of a Place, the History of an Idea (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)
• Sherry Turkle for Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age (Penguin Press)
• Danielle Allen for Our Declaration: A Reading of the Declaration of Independence in Defense of Equality (Liveright Publishing)
• Ethan Zuckerman for Rewire: Digital Cosmopolitans in the Age of Connection (W. W. Norton & Company)
• Jonathan Haidt for The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion (Pantheon)
• Richard Sennett for Together: The Rituals, Pleasures and Politics of Cooperation (Yale University Press)
• Peter Lovenheim for In the Neighborhood: The Search for Community on an American Street, One Sleepover at a Time (Perigee Books)

The post Announcing the 2024 Zócalo Book Prize Shortlist appeared first on Zócalo Public Square.