Reading California Fiction

FLIGHT OF AN ANGEL

    The first paragraph of these reviews sketches the story's setup. In case someone wants to read the book, I try only to mention major plot points that occur in the early pages. To add some "visual interest" to the post, I usually accompany the text with an image of the book's cover. Flight of an Angel provides an interesting problem. The cover of the paperback has the usual elements (hot babe, guy with gun) but also a serious spoiler. So I've skipped the cover and added a shot of Angel's Flight, which figures prominently in several of the novel's scenes.

    Flight of an Angel by Verne Chute. Morrow (1946), 246 pp.
    An thirtyish man finds himself in Los Angeles with no memory of the past. He learns that he goes by the name Jamey-Boy Raider, has a job in a defense plant, and (here's a happy surprise) has been living with a lovely stripper on Bunker Hill. With only a few clues to go on, he begins to search for his real identity. He discovers past associations with some low-lifes at a massage parlor. Then he meets a woman who claims to have known someone who looks like him in years past. He's slowly getting to the truth, but he may not like what he's going to find out.
    This is a fast-paced novel that runs out of plot twists. Chute keeps the story moving with a terse style and many taxi rides. The action scenes are well staged and the descriptions of apartments and hotel rooms are detailed and vivid. The book starts to go wrong when it violates the rule that really attractive women cannot be rhapsodized about for a hundred pages and then dumped. Readers won’t care much about the second woman, but they will figure out what she’s up to long before the protagonist does. By keeping his characters in motion, though, Chute diverts attention from the shortcomings of the plot and provides an entertaining read.

THE HOUSE OF NUMBERS

    Tracking down paperback originals set in California is not an easy task, largely because the books were not reviewed. They do draw some interest today, however (if mostly because of the cover art), and are fairly easy to obtain. A more difficult project -- and one I'm not ready to undertake -- would be to ferret out book-length magazine fiction. As the FictionMags Index indicates, a lot of it was published in many different places. The House of Numbers, for example, started in Cosmopolitan then was expanded into a Dell original.

    The House of Numbers by Jack Finney. Dell (1957), 192 pp.
    Ben Jarvis's brother Arnie was sentenced to San Quentin after writing a series of bad checks. He's now the prime suspect in an assault on a guard. A quirk in the law allows him, if found guilty, to be executed for the crime. Arnie needs to escape before a key witness shows up. He convinces Ben to help him break out. Ben then recruits Ruth, Arnie's fiancée, to join in the plot. Ben and Ruth, both law-abiding citizens, have plenty of qualms. Arnie, meanwhile, is pressed to come up with a scheme that has a chance for success.
    Finney is at his best when his first-person narrators, Ben and Arnie, are giving detailed impressions of what's happening around them. Ben, in particular, conveys a sense of wonder when recounting his San Quentin experiences. (Finney later used the same voice in his most famous book, Time and Again.) The narrators don't reveal the specifics of the plan, however, so readers must puzzle over what's coming next. Some of the peripheral points are not quite convincing -- the psychological explanation of Arnie's behavior, for example, or the speedy development of Ben and Ruth's relationship. In addition, a penultimate chapter narrated by Arnie might have bolstered the ending. All in all, readers willing to suspend some disbelief will find this an entertaining read.

ORANGE VALLEY

    It usually annoys me when authors make up bogus place names. I realize they must do this if they are taking some liberties with the characteristics of a real place. But why do it if the places don't really matter? In Orange Valley we get Fresno with no problem but also the pseudonymous towns of Ardner, Renold and Mercedes. One character goes to college at Willis University, which (from what we learn of the school) can only be Stanford. The need for disguises escapes me.

    Orange Valley by Howard Baker. Coward-McCann (1931), 344 pp.
    First World War vet Charles Swanson decides to move west to California to become a citrus rancher like his brother Roger. Before leaving Charles has an affair with his landlady's daughter, Magine. The two decide to marry once his ranch is established. Charles' puritanical mother and his younger sister, Juliana, join him right away. Charles doesn't press Magine to come at once, and she marries someone else. The ranch, located in the rainless southern San Joaquin Valley, requires Charles' constant effort and concern, but it may not entirely take his mind away from the absent Magine.
    This slow-moving and episodic story seems designed to reflect the numbing repetitiousness of ranch life. Much as oranges and olives, characters come and go, signifying nothing beyond themselves. The author cares about them, even if he finds them dull and dispiriting. A theme of sexual repression runs through some of their lives, with Charles and Juliana its main victims. What attracts him more than the characters are the surroundings -- the landscape, the flora and fauna, the weather. He offers many appreciative descriptions of birds, clouds, trees, and so on. Perhaps readers interested in the southern San Joaquin would enjoy this depiction of the area from eighty years ago. A larger modern audience is difficult to imagine.

TO HELL WITH HOLLYWOOD

    The internet does not always provide a wealth of information, but it usually offers some nuggets. About Horace Wade I discovered these tidbits: he was born in 1908; he published his first book in 1920 at the age of eleven; in 1930 he lived in Los Angeles at 1843 N. Cherokee Avenue; he published Great Scot in 1932, Tales of the Turf in 1956, The Greatest Gambling Stories Ever Told in 1973, and A Boy's Life in 1986.

    To Hell with Hollywood by Horace Wade. Dial Press (1931), 301 pp.
    Jack Jarvis, a rich kid who has just finished Harvard, decides to try his luck in the film industry. He plans to be a star but first decides to hang out with moviedom’s little people. He rents a cheap apartment and begins making observations about the Hollywood scene. Soon he falls for Tootsy, a beautiful and unusually cultured extra. Before Jack can move the relationship beyond a little mild necking, he learns her scandalous secret. He decides to produce a movie that will use her story to expose Hollywood’s corruption and immorality. He doesn't realize how difficult it will be to get the truth out.
    This is actually quite an entertaining book, due mainly to the first-person narrator’s irreverent attitude and lively use of slang. Everything he sees is fodder for comment. He's not beyond self-analysis. At one point, for example, he chides himself for an “unsuspected capacity for unctuous mendacity.” The plot moves toward the implausible in its insistence on the sweetness and virtue of Tootsy, the wronged extra. The depiction of her mood swings, however, cleverly reflects the puzzlement of many young men in dealing with the opposite sex. The final hundred pages of Jack's narrative are surprisingly anti-Semitic, with Jews and their non-WASP minions shown as corrupting Protestant America. That may be the author's point as well. In any case, the book shows that hip language and unconventional behavior can hide conservative beliefs and values.

FULLY DRESSED AND IN HIS RIGHT MIND

    Michael Fessier (1905?-1988) was one of the many writers who was lured to Hollywood after beginning a career elsewhere (the San Francisco bay area in his case). His film work, mostly for B-movies, started in 1935 and continued for twenty years. After that he wrote for television until 1969.  He published short stories throughout his career. His only other novel is Clovis (1948), which recounts the adventures of a cynical parrot.

    Fully Dressed and in His Right Mind by Michael Fessier. Alfred A. Knopf (1935), 216 pp.
     A twenty-something San Franciscan, John Price, meets a spooky old guy who claims to have just assassinated a newspaper publisher. Price disregards the claim but cannot shake the old man, who continues to show up in Price’s life and that of several of his acquaintances. Adding to the weirdness is a beautiful but innocent young woman, whom Price discovers swimming nude in a lake in Golden Gate Park. He wants to make friends, but she is strangely wary of getting involved. As the story continues, she becomes slightly less mysterious and the true nature of the old man becomes increasingly apparent.
    What Fessier gives us here is a hard-boiled fantasy – a combination, if you like, of Dashiell Hammett and Robert Nathan. This is no mean trick, and Fessier pulls it off with skill and aplomb. The first-person narrator tells the story in short, snappy sentences. He remains skeptical as strange events keep occurring. Ultimately, his canny groundedness is thrown into question. Fessier manages to engage the reader without hiding his literary aspirations. Fans of mysteries or fantasies are likely to enjoy this book.

JET PILOT

    Southern California was the center of America's aviation industry after World War II. Billions of dollars were invested in the research and development of new aircraft, especially military aircraft. Jet planes, in particular, intrigued the public. Hundreds of books were written about them, but only a few were fiction. So I was glad to run across Jet Pilot, figuring (correctly) that Tedd Thomey, author of And Dream of Evil, would at least create some vigorous action sequences. Thomey, incidentally, later wrote Jet Ace (1958), which is also about a test pilot.

    Jet Pilot by Tedd Thomey. Avon (1955), 157 pp.
    Jud, an experienced test pilot for a private aviation firm, is trying to cope with personal and professional problems. He thinks obsessively about Chally, his beautiful young wife, who lives by herself and has moved without a forwarding address. He's drinking so much that he smashes up his Jaguar, then lies about the accident to his father and adoring younger brother. At work he's on the outs with his boss. And, maybe worst of all, he seems to be losing his concentration while undertaking dangerous test flights. Everything is likely to deteriorate further in the weeks ahead.
    Tedd Thomey has undertaken a mission as difficult in its own way as any test flight of his protagonist. He's trying to write a character-driven novel of a strong, fearless man whose mastery is fraying. And he's trying to do this using the flat, abbreviated style of 1950s paperbacks. Given the limitation, he probably gets into Jud's head about as far as he can go. The character lacks depth, but his problems are real enough. Offsetting this shortcoming are detailed descriptions of the test flights. Thomey brings readers into the cockpit  and vividly portrays Jud's reactions to events both routine and unexpected. The setup for the final action scene may be a bit implausible, but all in all fans of aviation fiction are likely to enjoy the book.

THE GLASS HEART

    The life of Marty Holland seems to be more of a mystery than The Glass Heart. She (Mary is her real first name) apparently was a studio secretary who decided she could write as well as the people for whom she took dictation. She wrote three crime novels -- Fallen Angel (1945), which was made into a movie by Otto Preminger, The Glass Heart (1946), and Darling of Paris (1949) -- and then gave up her literary career. Her Private Passions was the paperback title of the second book. I have no idea what the title is referring to.

    The Glass Heart by Marty Holland. Julian Messner (1946), 192 pp.
    Curt Blair is running from police with a stolen topcoat when he ducks into the yard of Virginia Block, a fiftyish tightwad with a missing husband. She thinks he's the new handyman and gives him a job with room and board. Curt soon finds himself overworked and underpaid. He starts to imagine a way to dip into the woman's wealth. Then he meets roomer Lynn York, a gorgeous would-be actress with a phony accent. In short order more people show up, not all of them alive. Curt's plans change.
    The author begins in full James M. Cain mode but soon drifts away to something more comfortable. Curt is not really a bad guy to begin with and gets softer as the story moves along. Mrs. Block is such a skinflint that fleecing her seems like a public service. The new characters generate extraneous issues and reduce tension in the novel. A surprising turn to the romantic takes the novel even further from its tough-guy opening. Strangely, Cain himself wrote that the book offered "the authentic melodrama of the American scene." Perhaps he only got through the first few pages. Modern readers are likely to be disappointed.

A HOMICIDE FOR HANNAH

    The beginning of Homicide for Hannah was so annoying that I almost gave up on it. But the book itself -- that is, my paperback copy -- kept me going. It is in pristine condition, probably never read before. I wanted it nearby. My stringent rules for book placement, however, require me to put unread volumes in the attic. So I had to read it if I wanted it to stay downstairs. The Avon paperback, incidentally, is an abridgment.

    A Homicide for Hannah by Dwight V. Babcock. Alfred A. Knopf (1941), 334 pp.
    Joe Kirby, jobless but never without friends, encounters a badly beaten woman crawling out of an ally. He takes her back to his apartment, then heads to a nearby bar to find a guy who owes him money. He meets instead Hannah Van Doren, who writes for a true-crime magazine. When he returns home, he finds a gift from a young woman who has a crush on him and the dead body of the man he's been looking for. Gone is the woman he found in the ally. He and a friend leave the apartment, only to be briefly accosted by a spooky-looking fellow who wants to locate the dead guy. When they get to a popular hofbrau, they learn that the police know about the crime and are looking for Kirby.
    This book has the requisite supply of dead bodies, beautiful women, and suspicious characters. There's even a secret chemical formula that local Nazis are trying to get their hands on. What's lacking is a plausible hero. Kirby just seems to be a light-weight guy who likes to drink and make wisecracks. Far more interesting is the savvy Hannah, who knows how to take care of herself and track down leads. She would have made a more entertaining protagonist. The author was once known for his bantering style, but it has not worn well. In addition, he sometimes interrupts the flow of the narration by briefly shifting the point of view from Kirby to other characters. And his solution to the murder does not follow from clues uncovered earlier. The book is not likely to have a large audience today.

THE ACTOR

    Niven Busch (1903-1991) was successful as both a screenwriter and a novelist. He worked on some two dozen film projects between 1932 and 1955, including The Westerner and The Postman always Rings Twice. Beginning in 1939, Busch wrote fourteen novels over the next fifty years. About half have California settings. Many of his later books were best-sellers. The Actor marked the end of both his stay in Hollywood and his association with the film industry.

    The Actor by Niven Busch. Simon and Schuster (1955), 248 pages.
    Dan Prader, a former star of Westerns, is now a stunt man. Dan's income no longer matches his lifestyle. His wife's jealousy and his taste for younger women are making his marriage difficult. Old friends are put off by his insecurities. Dan has long been estranged from his son, Harold, a movie director. The son, who doesn't use his father's last name, has so far failed to make his mark in Hollywood. Then Harold gets his big directorial break on a movie for which his father may also land a job. Dan's task would be to perform a dangerous stunt that involves riding a horse off a cliff into the ocean. It's an open question whether father and son can work amicably together on the picture.
    This novel appears to be heading for one sort of conclusion, so the ending is an unwarranted surprise. Aside from that, the book provides an acceptable read. The characters are thoughtfully if not compellingly drawn. They may not be fully under the author's control, however. The stunt man’s wife, for example, is probably more obnoxious than Busch realizes. The washed-up actor theme is a bit hackneyed, but the writing style is smooth. Absent is the concern for social issues that marks some of Busch’s earlier novels. Modern readers will probably find little of interest here, though fans of Hollywood fiction may enjoy the book.

ENCHANTED OASIS

    I try to avoid romance novels as much as possible. I'm not happy knowing how the book will turn out after just finishing the first chapter (or whenever the handsome soulmate shows up). I made an exception for Enchanted Oasis, largely because its author, Faith Baldwin, once had a large following. She published -- if I counted the bibliography on Wikipedia correctly -- 99 novels between 1921 and 1976. I don't think more than a couple were set in California.

    Enchanted Oasis by Faith Baldwin. P. F. Collier and Son (1938), 305 pp.
    A beautiful but sheltered young English woman, heiress to an American fortune, arrives in Palm Springs to spend the winter season with her great aunt. There she meets a tall and handsome Texas rancher, also heir to a fortune. She also confronts her stepmother and guardian, who has been embezzling from her estate. The young woman experiences several misadventures that cause scandal and provide the stepmother an excuse to maintain control of the finances. Meanwhile, a new friend of the young woman, a beautiful and worldly actress, discovers that her ex-husband, the love of her life, is running a gambling house near town. It takes a while for problems to work themselves out.
    What we have here is a plot-driven novel about the rich and famous by a popular romance writer of the 1930s and 1940s. The book does not aspire to greatness. The story takes implausible twists. The characters lack depth. The conclusion is certain as soon as the rancher shows up. On the other hand, the description of Palm Springs in the 1930s, both the landscape and the nightlife, is convincing. Fans of romance novels might find this book enjoyable.