Last week I saw “Something New,” a sweet and savvy story of interracial romance. There was a time when serious fiction could take up relationships bewteen men and women without a defensive shield of irony or satire. Fortunately, novels from that bygone era still remain.
The Uncertain Journey by Oscar Lewis. Knopf (1945), 253 pp.
In Berkeley at the start of the depression Bruce Priest, an architecture student at Cal, becomes involved with Elaine Barnes, a young woman taking a secretarial course at a local business college. He’s a quiet sort of guy who hopes to settle down and get married. She’s more adventurous (sexually and otherwise) and reluctant to make a commitment. They are attracted to one another, but their differing approaches to the relationship threaten to keep them apart.
This is an unusual love story because it doesn't make clear where the relationship is going. Are the main characters fated for a lifetime of happiness, a tragic parting, or something else? Using a simple prose style and a dispassionate tone, Lewis makes both characters credible and sympathetic. The narrative presents only the man’s point of view, which seems less than clear-headed. The reader is left to wonder what is happening in the woman’s much more complicated mind.
A PRIVATE KILLING
I’m not a big fan of crime fiction, but I like to sample it now and then. A Private Killing got good reviews and promised to be pretty fun read. The author is the nephew of Stephen Vincent Benet.
A Private Killing by James Benet. Harper and Brothers (1949), 240 pp.
A reporter investigates the murder of a young woman at the estate of a brilliant but reclusive scientist near a university south of San Francisco. He soon discovers that the killing is somehow connected to the theft of plans for a microwave device. He flirts with the scientist’s fiancee, makes friends with the local DA, meets with a mobster, and interviews various suspects. Will he solve the crime?
This whodunit is fairly engaging despite several shortcomings. The writing style is straightforward; the story moves along quickly after a sluggish start; and the theme of scientific invention wins current-events points. The plot, however, has a few problems. For example, the reporter never meets the sheriff’s prime suspect, who is in jail throughout most of the book. (Other complaints would give away too much.) Readers of the genre won’t get the “top drawer chiller” promised by the paperback cover, but they will probably enjoy the story anyway.
LOT AND LOT'S DAUGHTER
I didn’t even know that this book existed until last month or that its stories were classics of science fiction. It’s surprising how often I keep adding to the list. The first story, incidentally, is sometimes interpreted as a call for survivalism.
Lot and Lot's Daughter by Ward Moore. Trachyon (1996), 72 pp.
This book contains two related stories. In the first a man drives his family north from Malibu after a nuclear attack on Los Angeles. He has been preparing for disaster but, slowed down by congested traffic, has time to modify his plans. The second story takes place six years later. It finds the man, his daughter, and their young son living off the land in the mountains south of Monterey. He thinks life has nothing more to offer, but she is not so sure.
The stories were originally published in 1953 and 1954 and are credited with helping to take science fiction in a grittier direction. Despite the book’s large theme Ward cloisters readers in the mind of the protagonist, making sure they understand the man’s motivations (or perhaps rationalizations). Taken together, the stories make a strong case that survivalist mentality leads nowhere that anyone wants to go. Ward’s style, clear and flat, does nothing to divert attention from the startling content of the book.
ASK THE DUST
Ask the Dust, the movie not the book, was released in the beginning of 2006. (It is now available on DVD.) In it Colin Farrell, 29 and Irish, plays 21-year-old Arturo Bandini and Salma Hayek, 39, plays 18-year-old Camilla Lopez. Okay, they changed the main characters for the movie. After all, how many under-20 Mexican-American actresses can there be in Hollywood? And aren't all the Italian- American actors playing gangsters these days? They changed some of the main plot points too. The movie and book coincide most closely in their downbeat views of Los Angeles.
Ask the Dust by John Fante. Stackpole Sons (1939), 235 pp.
A fledgling young author, Arturo Bandini, takes up residence in a beat-up apartment building on Bunker Hill. He’s poor, proud, self-involved, and anxious to have some sexual experiences. He gets a crush on Camilla Lopez, a feisty waitress who, he learns later, is in love with a tubercular bartender. Arturo loses his virginity soon enough. Developing a relationship with Camilla presents more of a problem.
John Fante’s novels have been receiving more attention since Black Sparrow Press began reprinting them in the late 1980s. Ask the Dust is his most widely appreciated work. The most striking feature of the book is its first-person narrator, who speaks sometimes to the reader and other times to himself. Though often exasperating, he provides crisp and compelling descriptions of life on the margins in 1930s L. A. But the novel lacks unity. Some chapters read like separate short stories. Camilla’s great love for the bartender seems like an afterthought, since it comes to light only after she offers herself to Arturo on their first date. Her eventual fate is not quite believable. The book may appeal mostly to readers who like the film version and want to check out its source.
THE CLOSE-UP
Looking back on it, I probably should have gone for the very earliest Hollywood novel for adults (which, according to Anthony Slide, is one of two books published in 1915, either The Love Story of a Movie Star or My Strange Life). But The Close-Up, the fifth earliest by my count, had its virtues, one of which was that a reading copy was easy enough to find (via interlibrary loan from the University of Louisville). The single library copy in California, like other fiction at the State Library, is non-circulating.
The Close-Up by Margaret Turnbull. Harper and Brothers (1918), 351 pp.
A secretary is dumped by her boyfriend because he thinks he is dying of tuberculosis. When her boss buys a movie studio, she heads to California to keep track of the business. She learns the basics of movie-making then reluctantly becomes an actress. An instant success, she quickly earns a lot of money, hires a cook and maid, rents a hillside bungalow, throws parties, and generally acts like others in what was then (1916) a fairly small film colony. Her carousing is limited, however, because she still pines for the boyfriend. Romance is rekindled when he shows up in Los Angeles as an undercover agent trying to catch German saboteurs. They cannot be together yet, so she continues her film career.
The great strength of this book is its portrayal of Hollywood (here named Mountainside) in its earliest days. Turnbull explains movie terminology, describes action on the set, and even depicts the business side of film-making. Her portrayal of after-hours revelry and relationships is sketchier, largely because she is unwilling to break the conventions of romance novels. Her protagonist is spunky but boring. She wants true love and cannot be seduced by fun, fame or fortune. So what happens in her movie career is not really important to her - - or to the reader, once the boyfriend reappears. Turnbull diverts attention from the hackneyed plot with an array of minor characters and southern California settings. Her writing style is serviceable if not flashy. Readers with an interest in the history of movies might enjoy this book.
BRIGHT AVENUES
Sometimes books just slide right past me. Bright Avenues is one example. The first time I read it I was sure that I had missed something. That lingering feeling of incomprehension led me to a second reading. Now I think I understand the book better, but I’m still not sure I completely appreciate what Bentham is up to.
Bright Avenues by Josephine Bentham. Henkle (1928), 304 pp.
Pretty and cultured, Christine arrives in San Francisco at nineteen to seek her fortune. She begins with a boring secretarial job. When she is laid off, Mark, a sometime writer, saves her from destitution by finding her a position as an assistant to an artistic woman whose demented mother lives upstairs. Christine finds Mark fascinating, but the feelings are not reciprocated. As the story continues, she takes other jobs and hangs around with other men. But nothing quite fulfills the hopes she had when she first came to the city.
This book is notable for its theme and its style. The story asks whether women will be able to take advantage of the new freedom they appeared to have won in the 1920s. Bentham seems to be saying that success takes a very strong will and that steady male companionship, however unsatisfying, exerts a powerful attraction. Which is not exactly a feminist answer, and not the one Bentham gave in her next book, Outsiders (1929). Bentham’s writing is meticulous. She has chosen every word with care and has lost no opportunity for wry comment. The characters are well thought out; the plot is understandable. Even so, there may be something here that is likely to escape male readers.
THE DEER PARK
Over the years Hollywood has offered a tempting target for novelists who are in Los Angeles for a short stay. Seldom do they hit the mark. A case in point is The Deer Park, arguably the low point of Norman Mailer’s career.
The Deer Park by Norman Mailer. Putnam (1955), 375 pp.
A former Air Force pilot arrives in a desert resort community after the Korean War. There he meets various displaced Hollywood types, including a washed-up director fighting the blacklist, a sexually proficient hanger-on with a need for men, a famous producer and his less successful son, a pimp and his ex-actress mother, and a less than bright movie star. As the story continues, they become involved in diverse sexual interludes with one another.
This was Mailer’s third novel and the one that presumably inspired him to become an essayist and literary personality. He seems to trying to show the dissipation of those connected to the movie business by chronicling their sexual relationships. None of the characters is sympathetic. Their affairs are more tedious than exciting. Adding to readers’ detachment is Mailer’s use of the first person narrator, who is often telling stories second-hand or simply making them up. Mailer fans may have some interest in this book. Others should probably look elsewhere for a serious Hollywood novel.
MAMA'S BANK ACCOUNT
Ever wonder what it takes for a book you’ve never heard of to stay in print for 63 years? Mama’s Bank Account has the answer. It apparently became a favorite reading assignment years ago and has maintained its popularity ever since. Readers interested in other short story collections of ethnic life should check out The Paesanos and Yokohama, California. Also worth reading is Kathryn Forbes' other novel, Transfer Point, a less nostalgic look at life in San Francisco after World War I.
Mama's Bank Account by Kathryn Forbes. Harcourt, Brace (1943), 204 pp.
A woman looks back on her teenage years in an immigrant family from Norway. In a series of short stories, set in San Francisco in the 1920s, she tells of problems faced and overcome by her mother. The issues involve finances, assimilation, and family relationships. A couple of the stories, which focus on school, have the narrator rather than her mother as the main character. The last story takes place about ten years after the first and shows the second generation well assimilated.
This book takes a nostalgic but not saccharine look at immigrant family life. The stories show the ways that old-world wisdom and fortitude can surmount everyday problems posed by life in the United States. The writing is simple and straightforward. The stories have little edginess or ambiguity. All of which have made this one of the most popular books ever set in California. It has been in print pretty much since its original publication, and it formed the basis for a play, movie, and TV series under the title I Remember Mama.
