Month: August 2021

Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It

~ Wendy-Marie ~ 1 Comment

I’m at the library, doing the half bent over but not too far bent over crouch to scan the New Non-Fiction section. I’m also in grave danger of my right arm being yanked out of the socket from a heavy library bag and somehow my wig is slightly askew from trying to fix my mask elastics caught in my glasses. My usual hot mess express self.

Then I spot a book with a L’Oreal Matte Me in Paris colored spine with big bold yet clean white letters JAYNE MANSFIELD with Eve Golden in smaller black letters. And I went from crouched beast to lunge mode because BOOK MINE NOW.

Now the average person might not know who Jayne Mansfield is. You need to be a Baby Boomer or older, a fan of the camp, 1950s/1960s Hollywood or have heard the Siouxsie and the Banshees song “Kiss Them For Me” to recognize who Jayne Mansfield is.

<insert the spouse prying himself long enough from YouTube to proclaim Superstition the worst Siouxsie and the Banshees album ever-ignore him>

Jayne Mansfield was many things in her short life-mother, actress, model, beauty queen, scandalous, wild, parodied and laughed at but she was never boring. Finding a balanced measured account of her life can be difficult because so much of her life was lived in front of cameras it’s easy to see her as just a cartoon oversized figure, the Dollar Tree/Dollar General Marilyn Monroe all white-blond hair and heaving bosoms at her tacky Pink Palace.

 It takes a special author to live up to that task and in thirty plus years of reading about Hollywood and film stars the only solid book about Jayne Mansfield was Martha Saxton’s 1975 Jayne Mansfield and the American Fifties a slender volume that is sadly out of print. If you find it? Sure, buy it, my own copy has gone astray over the years and if I stumbled across it during my adventures, it’s coming home with me.

But if your library has Eve Golden’s Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It or you have a spare $34.95? Give Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It a chance. Eve Golden wrote the definitive biography of Silent Hollywood legend Theda Bara and a very fine biography of Jean Harlow so she is no stranger to being able to dig past the crazy rumors/legends and give you a look at the actual person behind the hair and makeup. Behind all that bleached hair and extreme clothing is pain and frustration along with ambition.

Now some biographers would have made an enormous focal point of a particular rumor surrounding the paternity for one of her children but Eve Golden doesn’t sink to that level. The rumor is addressed and frankly whatever the biological truth, that child has lived a life well loved and accepted.

Eve Golden doesn’t sink to that level could just be applied to the final quarter of the book. Let’s face it. If you know who Jayne Mansfield it’s pretty much because of her tragic death. It’s certainly not her acting. And because other authors <insert majorly raised heavily penciled eyebrows at a certain Kenneth Anger> sank to those levels and beyond.

Jayne Mansfield wasn’t the finest actress to ever grace the silver screen. But she was hard working and stuck to her goals even if the world was laughing at her versus with her. She was both slightly out of date even at the height of her fame and ahead of her time. And thanks to Eve Golden and Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It she is more than just a bunch of publicity photos and press clippings.

Nowhere Girl

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

.Morning snack at work. I’m on Instagram and my local library has just posted they finally offer Hoopla. A quick few taps and I’m checking out the selections looking for an audiobook to get me through the morning.

Then I spot a book I’ve seen promoted heavily on Instagram and decide to give it a go. Cheryl Diamond’s acclaimed memoir of her years as a child in a fugitive family who spends her childhood on the run from the people in power after her father.

Nowhere Girl it is.

<deep sighs>

I’ve been wondering how to do this review for the last several weeks.

Part of me is tempted to just cut/paste the thoughts typed at lighting speed, well as fast as you can type with one finger on the iPhone Notes app because I am An Old. Because this a book I had such a reaction to , I snatched a few moments to type out my thoughts to make them stop intruding on my concentration doing my actual factual pays my bills job.

Or I could try to put the notes in a nice coherent package with proper grammar, spelling and references.

I am thisclose to doing the former. It more tempting than the Mason jar crammed with Japanese Kit Kat on top of the Folio Society bookcase.

And those are FORBIDDEN Kit Kat.

<clears throat>

I know there are people who adore this book and the publisher is very firm this is a true story and Cheryl Diamond’s story checks out. I am not one of those people.

And before anyone huffs and puffs and pulls the “You’re An Ugly Dumb Hater” card? I did finish the book.

Listened to the audiobook as long as I could bear it at work.

Borrowed the eBook when I got home and spent the bulk of my evening reading to the bitter end.

And when I say bitter end I mean I finished at 11:37pm and went to work the next day on about 3.5 hours of sleep and all the tea.

Let me share my first furtively typed note

“This book sucks”

More notes?

“Some things yes but am very suspicious”

“It’s only tolerable if you read it like a classic VCA novel”

“Holy shit this is like every actually written by VCA novel”

I could continue but I will spare you the poorly spelled comments.

There are strong parallels with the V.C. Andrews’ novels of my 1980s youth. Cheryl is the clear Cathy Doll/Dahl meets Heaven Leigh Casteel main character. She is just a being of goodness and light who the whole family revolves around. The fragile movie star looking mother. The handsome charmer father/bully who could run cons with Damien Adare when they’re not pushing their children to be perfect at everything. Brooding sister Chiara should really be My Sweet Audrina’s Vera’s best friend. As for her brother? At one point I do remember literally muttering to myself a particular situation which is a horrific one was very Flowers in the Attic and minutes later well… <bites lip>

Looking back weeks later my thoughts on Nowhere Girl haven’t changed. Some people have compared Nowhere Girl to Jeannette Walls The Glass Castle. I’ve read The Glass Castle and find it to be much more believable. Parents being so lost to their own mental demons. Very real.

But I don’t fully believe the whole story Cheryl presents. I do think there are threads of truth and darker things happened which could really change the narrative around the family. In fact I would love to hear her sister’s version of events.

Do I think her father was a con man and a deeply disturbing man?

Yes.

Was her family damaged?

Yes.

Do I trust Cheryl.

No.

Will people believe her.

Sure. But I’m not one of them.

The Operator

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Life in a small town is like no other. Guaranteed someone knows your business, even the secrets you do not know. It doesn’t matter you live in a tiny English village straight off a biscuit tin, a New England mill town, a seaside hamlet or a Midwest town. And I am not immune to secrets and revelations so when I heard about a 2020 novel called The Operator? I was interested enough to take a screenshot and see if the local library carried it.

According to the author bio on the back flap of The Operator, this is Gretchen Berg’s debut novel. Seriously? Because unlike another debut novel I took a chance on earlier this spring I had absolutely no problem diving into tiny 1950s Wooster, Ohio even with the spouse braying at the antics of whatever Minecraft Let’s Play video he was watching. The first page sucks you in, you are right there with Vivian, wearing old winter boots on her way to work.

A 1950s woman…working? Weren’t all women housewives being supported by their husbands. Not exactly. Vivian’s work at the telephone company makes life nicer, paying for the things her husband’s salary cannot quite cover. And Vivian likes her work, she loves knowing the ins and outs of what is happening in her town and being a telephone operator is a great match. Until Vivian learns a secret about herself.

Giving away the secret takes away the fun of reading The Operator but let’s say Vivian doesn’t die, it’s a whopper with nesting boxes of whoppers. And Vivian is very relatable. She doesn’t curl up in a ball and give in even if some of her decisions are made from social pressure. She keeps on going and a bit at the end has me tearing up because that part of journey touches on something in my own mother’s life. Go Vivian go!

The Operator is a fine book club recommendation (I have book clubs on the brain at the moment having just joining a site wide book club at work) and between you, me and the World Wide Internet if the trade paperback edition has one of those book club suggested discussion questions I need to see “When did you realize CHARACTER NAME was THING I DIDN’T FIGURE OUT BECAUSE I AM THAT DIM” because I can’t be the only one this dim. Also The Operator would make nice Paramount Plus show because Vivian and her pluck remind me of Ginnifer Goodwin in Why Women Kill. Get cracking out that Paramount Plus.

I can give The Operator a firm Essie Hi Maintenance (Revlon’s Fire and Ice looks dreadful on me) thumbs up. Grab it from your book source, find a comfortable spot (I recommend not on the other side of the couch from your spouse) and spend a few hours with Vivian Dalton and the secrets of Wooster, Ohio.

Surrender Brain Cells

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Years ago I wrote a post for this very blog about Caleb Carr. The Alienist and The Angel of Darkness truly hit a sweet spot for me. True crime blended with historical fiction. Formulaic yes but I really wanted a third volume.

It took years but unlike my nearly impossible to grant wish for Jasper Fforde to write a Shades of Grey sequel, my wish for a third Dr. Kreizler book was fulfilled back in 2016.

This is a bit hard to type. Either Caleb Carr has entered a season of suck or my brain has finally corrupted beyond repair over almost five decades on this big blue ball floating in space. Both are valid theories. So is the theory Caleb Carr has never been a good writer and I need to rethink my reading.

Now for a little story.

My favorite podcasts aren’t posting as much due to real life getting in the way. I’m not interested in certain podcasts or podcast companies so I’ve been using Libby/Overdrive and Hoopla to listen to audio books. And I most certainly don’t have Audible money.

I was at work, in the mood to listen to an engrossing book and what I want wasn’t available. The Libby app had a Caleb Carr book called Surrender, New York I wasn’t a firm 100% sure I’d read before so I was willing to give it a try. it was even set in Rensselaer County. I know those little tiny towns, those counties where farming still clings on, there can be more cows than people and working in the prisons is a solid job.

It couldn’t be worse than Killing Time could it?

We shall speak no further of Killing Time.

I downloaded Surrender, New York and grabbed the stack of ID cards needing mailing labels. Because I have an actual job besides reading books. And because this is a book review maybe it’s a good idea to touch on the plot yes? Okay here it goes.

Super detective Dr. Trajan Jones and his partner Mike have been exiled to tiny Surrender, NY where they teach crime solving inside a hidden plane inside a barn/outbuilding on the Jones family farm. Occasionally the local police enlist their aid. And the local police have come a calling…

No I have not eaten an entire bag of Japanese green tea Kit-Kat. I would like to do so even if I’m flirting with the diabetes but nope that is the plot. Exiled super detective stumbles across evil crimes in his historical stomping grounds. Oh and it’s in the Kreizler-verse because of course Dr. Trajan Jones is THE Dr. Kreizler expert and disdains modern science/techniques.

It took about five minutes to realize I had read Surrender, New York when it was a brand spanking new hardcover.

It took 30 minutes to remember how hard I wanted to smack the main character Trajan Jones so hard he fell off his leg prosthesis and cover him in Chick Fil A sauce as a snack for Marcianna Jones. I would also love some Chick Fil A frozen lemonade.

It took an additional three minutes to try and remember if I still have the Brotherhood of the Wolf DVD my brother bought in Canada or did I give it back to him? Because if I want to be strung along about what kind of beastie something is Brotherhood of the Wolf is the clear winner.

It took another minute to start twitching over how darn long it was taking to sum up anything. Lovecraft gets to the point quicker. Flipping never met an adjective he didn’t use Lovecraft. LOVECRAFT!

Then I paused Surrender, New York and decided perhaps the audiobook hack wasn’t working. The narrator was lovely and really captured the sheer superiority of Dr. Trajan “STFU DUDE” Jones. The utter suffocating pretentious pompous… <takes a deep breath>

Perhaps I needed the weight of a physical book and not being in a cubicle trying to remember how to spell Albuquerque properly vs “Al-bear-quirky” for mailing labels to appreciate Surrender, New York.

Three hours later I was on my couch, spouse watching his favorite You-Tubers with Surrender, New York on my lap.

I started to read.

Page 131. I carefully dog-eared page 131, my thumb firmly creasing the paper, a sharp dog ear in a sacred library book. Page 131.

It’s almost a month later. My local library in the City of Hard Hitting has auto-renewed Surrender, New York. more than once. Such a lovely gesture these auto renewals. But I never re-read past page 131. I never will re-read past page 131.

Surrender Brain Cells…

Confident Women

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

I’m at the doctor’s office…again. Over a week of poking, prodding and I’m beyond tired, in a gown doing my best to read one handed waiting. And when Doctor Awesome finally does rap on the door, I’m engrossed in a tale almost too over the top to respond right away. Remember I am in a doctor’s office, a place I fear more than a Great White suddenly appearing in the pretty reservoir I drive by twice a day, more than the vivid tsunami dreams that have me waking up in a full body sweat most nights. Books have a grip on my life but this isn’t just any book.

Doctor Awesome does her thing and I’m fighting back the urge to discuss what I just read with a human being. How could an author I remember filling shelves at Barnes & Noble AND Borders lose just about everything to a con person? Granted I never read a single one of her books because romance isn’t my favorite genre but you have to have some sort of smarts to write all those best sellers right? Who wants to discuss wound care and prescriptions when you have the craziest real life story to get back to?

You want to know which romance author I’m babbling about? Sorry, you have to read about it yourself. In this book please. Yes Google is your friend but authors have to eat too. Read this book. Support authors mini lecture OVER. Back to the review.

Sadly Confident Women: Swindlers, Grifters, and Shapeshifters of the Feminine Persuasion had to be tucked back into my bag because I still had go back to the office to finish my work shift and run errands before I could dive back in properly. Adulting sucks.

Remember several years back when the awesome historical ladies sub genre really came into it’s own. Usually a trade paperback volume of profiles across history, rebels, princesses/royals, feminists and criminals? Some excellent and some so poorly researched it made my historian heart cringe. Most of the current offerings are focused on a single individual to explore as an icon but you can still find the classical formula.

Enter Tori Telfer. Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History was a terrific book to stumble across in the stacks of the Very Posh City Main Library AND in my local Working Class City of Hard Hitting. Women who I knew a great deal about, women I had heard about in passing and women who were brand new to me written in a clear, sharp voice that you want to sit down with and just discuss cases until your fancy tea went cold? Yes please!

Of course when I was at Very Posh City Main Library and found Tori Telfer’s Confident Women: Swindlers, Grifters, and Shapeshifters of the Feminine Persuasion it was a no brainer I was checking it out. The only issue was devour it as soon as I got home or save it for my doctor’s appointments because as compelling as each entry is, you can put it down long enough to do the medical stuff. I really appreciate that in a book, I truly do. And you can focus on the whiskey tango, how did people fall for this and oh good golly Miss Molly I want to shake Scammer X until her teeth rattle bits when you need to distract yourself from the poking and prodding bits.

Hopefully I don’t have to keep going back to see Doctor Awesome every few days. And really hoping to see another Tori Telfer collection in the next few years.