The Swans He called them his swans.[amazon_link asins=’0345528700′ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’theboothafoly-20′ marketplace=’US’ link_id=’6556e6eb-9f64-11e8-87e2-89d16724f4b1′] It’s the story literary freaks, pop culture geeks and gossip mavens all know. The story of a covey of fascinating young women who were known for being beautiful; graceful as swans. Beauty made them famous and envied and rich but it didn’t make them happy, Instead, Beauty made them insecure and lonely. They wanted friends who’d value them instead of their looks or the powerful men they had married. Then one day, this flock of sad, lovely, women befriended an unusual man, An odd, little man, who liked but didn’t lust after them. A clever talker of a man who cheered them up with the juicy gossip, whenever they were blue. The strange storyteller listened to each woman when she talked. and told each woman he adored her. And, because he was gay and understanding and fun, the women showered him with gifts and friendship. They even shared their deepest secrets with him. Secrets he wrote down. The Story This is the setup for The Swans of Fifth Avenue, the story of a fascinating literary scandal. It stars some of the original American taste-makers of the mid-20th century like Babe Paley, and Slim…
A lot of people spent the last eight Sunday Nights watching Ryan Murphy’s TV series, Feud, and I think I know why. First, it was a quality product: well-written, acted, edited and produced. It was also an intriguing story about well-known people in a fascinating industry. My mom, with her collection of books on the Golden Age of Hollywood, would have raved about this series, either praising or vilifying it to High Heaven. But, mostly I think the title explained why people tuned in Sunday after Sunday and can’t wait for the next season: everyone loves to watch a good fight, and the nastier it gets, the better. In case you are experiencing Feud-withdrawal, and you like a battle of wits, may I suggest Literary Feuds: A Century of Celebrated Quarrels? Trust me, when it comes to insecurity and ugly behavior in public, writers are pugilists with words. Take one of my favorite battles in the book, the one between Lillian Hellman and Mary McCarthy. You could argue these two, like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, might have made better allies than enemies. As creative writers, political liberals, and women succeeding in fields still dominated by men they would have profited from…
No one does the end of summer quite like the South. The prairie states may be wilting under the furnace-blast of the sun, California may actually be on fire, (It seems to burn up every year) but for the last word in late summer misery, look below the Mason-Dixon line. Here, the outdoors is a cauldron of heat and humidity sufficient to make snakes seek the comfort of air conditioning and lacquer the porch with mold. It’s impossible to sleep when the air-conditioning fails, and HVAC repairmen are worth their weight in gold (a rate reflected in their bills). But the thing is, Southerners don’t complain about the heat. In an interesting way, they relish it. It’s one of the things that makes this place so distinctive and it certainly fuels our art. The endless, draining summers stew the atmosphere of Southern literature so tragedies and harsh truths emerge. Before August ends, pick up at one or two more tales about the South and enjoy the benefits of an omnipresent, overwhelming Summer. Always In August was one of my mother’s books and the title says it all. There’s the usual ” ‘ole Southern family” with the “ole family place” (a…
There’s a reason some people love this time of year; the same reason other folks hate it: family. Tradition dictates we spend part of our winter holidays with individuals tied to us by DNA or marriage and who you are determines whether you like or loathe the custom. My husband says, there’s a reason family push our buttons faster than anyone else; they installed most of them. Still, they are the people who define our earliest selves and even when they’re gone, their voices come back in our memories like the song of The Grass Harp, Truman Capote’s novella about his Alabama childhood. While it’s not the obvious choice for December, the Grass Harp is a tender remembrance of how love and family shape us all. Collin Fenwick is the narrator of The Grass Harp, a boy (like the author) cast into the care of maiden aunts. Aunt Verena is the financial provider, the richest soul in town and, as Truman says, the earning of her wealth had not made her an easy woman. The other aunt, Dolly, is nature-focused and terrified of all humans in authority but self-sustaining because of her homemade dropsy cure, an old-fashioned name for swelling….
Fifty-five years ago this week, a Kansas farmer, his wife and two youngest children were murdered by a pair of ex-convicts. The cons didn’t get away with much (other than the lives of their victims) and they didn’t get away for long because they were under arrest within six weeks, under sentence of within six months and under the ground within six years, executed for the crimes they’d committed. In today’s 24/7 news cycle, that story would have been buried as quickly as the principals. Instead, a fairly large group of people continue to mark this sad anniversary because Truman Capote wrote a book about the crime that set a new style and standard for writers and readers. You could say the book, In Cold Blood, was a literary event in the ’60’s that stayed popular for a number of years. For the generation who lived or grew up in Kansas in the aftermath of that book, the repercussions continued much longer My family moved first to Kansas and then to Garden City (the county seat where the defendants were tried) shortly after Hollywood released a film adaptation of Mr. Capote’s book. Because of the popularity of the book and…