As Bay Area residents, we tend to be a bit chauvinistic. We’re adept at casting aspersions on Los Angeles, tossing off snide comments about the city’s traffic, cult of celebrity, even the lack of a serious cultural life.

Anyone who has spent time in L.A. during the past decade knows that’s nonsense — not the nightmare freeways and showbiz parts, but the disses about culture. I know I risk my Bay Area residency privilege by saying this, but the contemporary art and theater scenes down south rival and often surpass anything we have here.

We’re particularly judgmental about L.A.’s literary life, or lack thereof.

“No one reads there,” I’ve heard more than once. That’s just wrong. A recent trip to L.A. proved there’s a thriving literary scene, perhaps best illustrated by a slew of excellent indie bookstores. A literary tourist could have a field day there.

But let’s back up and set the scene with some wisdom on L.A.’s literary heritage from David L. Ulin, former book critic of the Los Angeles Times, professor at USC and the author of nine books. In “Writing Los Angeles: A Literary Anthology,” Ulin explains it was actually the movies that contributed to L.A.’s literary culture, encouraging the arrival of thousands of writers who flooded Southern California starting in the 1920s, looking for work. Among them were such eminences as F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker, Raymond Chandler and William Faulkner.

Asked for a list of his favorite contemporary L.A. writers, L.A. native and Zyzzyva magazine Managing Editor Oscar Villalon mentions Glen David Gold, Michael Jaime Becerra, Dana Johnson, Jim Gavin, Nina Revoyr, Lou Mathews, Michelle Latiolais, Hector Tobar, Scott O’Connor, Victoria Patterson, Matt Summel and Tom Bissell. Villalon says L.A. has a “robust scene down there.” Agreed, and I’d add Susan Straight and Susan Orlean to the list.

“L.A. is the smartest reading city I’ve ever lived in,” Ulin told me. “Literary culture has become more public in recent years,” he added, citing the literary festivals, vibrant bookstores and public authors series as examples.

On a recent trip to explore the city’s bookstores, my guide was my friend Julie, who has an enviable library that doubles as a guest room and in which I happily slept, surrounded by great books. Julie is a member of three book clubs, reads as much as I do and, perhaps most important, drives like a demon. She ushered me around the city — I gripped the door handle and closed my eyes a lot — in a way that never would have been possible on my own.

Our first stop was Skylight Books in Los Feliz, which Angelenos pronounce in an anglicized way I never can remember. Open and inviting, this intimate neighborhood store has a knowledgeable staff and, on the day I visited, was largely patronized by a diverse group of 20- and 30-somethings, a fact that warmed my heart.

We went on to Chevalier’s in very pedestrian friendly (yes, there are sidewalks in L.A.) Larchmont, a store I loved for its creative and abundant shelf-talkers (the recommendations from bookstore staff). This on Shirley Jackson: “A crazy woman who wrote crazy stories about crazy men and women. And houses. And villages. And ghosts. Start with ‘The Haunting of Hill House,’ follow up with ‘Dark Tales,’ and round things out with ‘We Have Always Lived in the Castle.’ ” Now that’s great advice.

Then downtown — which is booming these days, construction cranes everywhere — to the Last Bookstore which, although it’s only been around for 10 years, feels like a bona fide institution. Urban grungy with an Amoeba Records vibe, the place is massive and jammed with tourists taking selfies, posing in the stacks and among the book sculptures upstairs, where there are also art galleries and lots of quirky book-related art.

Eighty percent of the books at the Last Bookstore are used, with an average book price of $5. A record store rents space on the premises, as does Secret Head Quarters, which specializes in graphic novels. The leather couches and chairs, something I love in bookstores, remind me of my old Denver fave, the Tattered Cover.

We also hit Book Soup on Sunset, Vroman’s Bookstore in Pasadena and Pages in Manhattan Beach, all indies that appear to be thriving. All of the bookstores host author events and cater to and even host book clubs. Chevaliers and Vroman’s have well-stocked, expansive newspaper/magazine stands outside, heaven for this actual paper lover.

Literary tourists to L.A. would be wise to hit town in April to catch the L.A. Festival of Books, the largest book festival in the United States, annually drawing about 150,000 people. Started in 1996 by a group including former L.A. Times book editor and now HeyDay books publisher Steve Wasserman, the Festival is held on the USC campus and features booksellers, author talks and panels, publishers, and music in a happy explosion of book-mania.

Ulin calls the Festival of Books “a catalyst” for the revitalization of the literary scene in L.A. In its first year there was some trepidation about whether it would work, he says.

So it seems that L.A. is indeed a book lover’s paradise. The next time you’re looking for a reason to dis our southern neighbor, you’ll need another target: that relentlessly sunny weather or full-grown adults taking skateboarding very seriously. Or the Dodgers.