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Post by Fading Fast on Jan 31, 2023 22:20:33 GMT
Thanks for the review of The Harder They Come. I haven’t read it, but I’ve seen the Bogart movie, which I like. It sounds like the book is well worth reading.
The one Budd Schulberg novel that I have read is What Makes Sammy Run?, the story of an overly ambitious young man who’s willing to do anything to climb the ladder in Hollywood. It’s been a long, long time since I read the book, but I remember liking it a lot, and I wouldn’t mind reading it again. I've read that one too and greatly enjoyed it. It's the reason I chose to read "The Harder The Fall."
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Post by sepiatone on Feb 1, 2023 17:09:37 GMT
Still trying to find the novel GONE TO TEXAS by Forrest Carter, which was the source material for Clint Eastwood's THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES. I could go the AMAZON route, but then, the journey is a large part of the thrill, eh? Sepiatone
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Post by Andrea Doria on Feb 1, 2023 20:09:30 GMT
I read that before they made the movie and really liked it. Also around that same time I read, "Oklahoma Crude." That was before the libraries started tagging the spines of novels with "Western," "Horror," "Romance" like they do now and it served me well, because I read a lot of good books that I would have passed by thinking it was another Zane Grey type novel.
I just looked at my library website. The southern Ohio library system still has 6 copies of, "Gone to Texas," floating around. That's a sign of a really good book. I have some old favorites written in the 1930's that only have one copy left in the system, but they'll send for it when I want it. I love my library.
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Post by sepiatone on Feb 2, 2023 16:32:55 GMT
Too bad I don't live in Ohio.
Sepiatone
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Post by Fading Fast on Feb 20, 2023 10:43:28 GMT
Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra by George Jacobs and William Stadiem
I periodically read books about Frank Sinatra, in part, because the sites I buy books from keep sending me Sinatra-book recommendations as, in truth, I'm not that fascinated with the guy. That said, the books usually engage because the man did have a, well, fascinating life. This one's written by George Jacobs, Sinatra's "valet" (basically, Sinatra's key personal servant) from 1953 - 1968, so a man who definitely had access to Frank. But, like all these "tell-all" books, it's just another view leaving you to decide how much of it you believe. There's a lot here in this breezy and fun account that focuses mainly on Frank's personal life - his emotions, drinking, gambling, smoking, whoring and dating (the last two were usually in motion at the same time as Frank's views on fidelity were fluid), all of which were done to an excess worthy of a superstar with all but no financial or moral constraints. Portrayed here, Frank is a man of many contradictions. He genuinely cared about family but divorced his devoted first wife and was erratically involved in raising his children whom he loved. He wanted to win an best-actor Oscar (he won a supporting-actor one for From Here to Eternity), but only took less than half of his acting roles seriously. He sincerely hated racism/antisemitism and showed it in his public support and private actions time and again, but constantly made horribly foul racist/anti-semitic comments in his personal life. He was capable of great warmth and charity, but could also be violently mean and vindictive, able to carry a grudge with Olympic-style skill and duration. He would ping from highly confident about his abilities to moments of great doubt time and again; although, he was consistently confident (rightfully so) in his voice and singing ability. And he was massively insecure socially and intellectually as it bothered him that he was only a high-school graduate. Thus, he was constantly looking for acceptance from society types and self-conscious around college-educated adults (doubly so if, like the Kennedys, they had social prominence and an Ivy-league degree). Even his 1960s' hunt for a wife - he bedded half of Hollywood in this quest - was driven by his desire to find "class." Meanwhile, the one seemingly great love of his life - ex-wife Ava Gardner - rejected his decade-plus-long effort to reconcile. Which leads us to all the big-name people who make an appearance in Frank's world. So, in no particular order, here are the Cliff Notes on each according to Mr. Jacobs (to emphasize, these are his opinions):
- Dean Martin - genuinely nice guy, much more stable than Frank
- Sammy Davis - Passionately driven to succeed / talents not fully appreciated
- Peter Lawford - skinflint, mediocre talent
- Yul Brynner - amazingly, cheaper than Lawford
- Ava Gardner - As sexy IRL as on the screen, very confident in herself, very down to earth
- Marylin Monroe - Hygienically filthy (kinda disgusting), massively insecure, very nice and kind, had sex with many men to, pathologically, prove her worth to herself
- JFK - Good man, treated most people well, would bang almost any woman that moved
- Joe Kennedy Senior - Certified baster, bigot, cheater, manipulative and vindictive
- Mia Farrow - smart, but truly spacey, selfish with a mean streak, ambitious
And a few other "fun" things that spill out of the book:
- Ava Gardner might have delivered two of the best raunchy quotes ever in the recorded history of time. Neither can be written here, but if you want to see them (you've been warned, they are rude) Google:
- "ava gardner frank sinatra manhood quote"
- "ava gardner frank sinatra mia farrow spectator" (click on The Spectator's article "Franks World," you have to read a few paragraphs, but you'll get to Ava's quote about Mia Farrow that starts "Frank always wanted...")
- Dean Martin, when he and Frank were nearly fifty and years after Dean had stopped carousing with Frank, came over to Frank's house one morning around 11am for a scheduled meeting about an upcoming movie project. When the front door is opened, Dean sees the living room chockablock with empty booze bottles and filled ashtrays, while six disheveled whores were splayed out sleeping here and there only to be told by author Jacobs that "Frank and the boys" were still asleep. Dean's response to Jacobs: "You'd think they'd be sick of the same old sh*t by now, wouldn't you George?" Can't you just hear Dean's voice, half smirking, saying those words? And as a reader, exhausted at this point from just hearing about all the partying and whoring, you'll all but agree.
- Frank did some business with the mob and did "run" with mob bosses socially, but was never in the mob. Contrary to the mob in movies, some people, like Frank, were able to partner at times with the mob without becoming one of them - but of course, being Frank Sinatra probably made this possible.
There are a bunch more tidbits and anecdotes in this fun and tawdry view into Frank's life. Definitely not the biography if you are either a serious scholar or someone looking for a comprehensive overview, but if mid-century-Hollywood-and-society gossip plus star-ego-driven partying is your thing now and then, Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra is a darn good choice.
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Post by Andrea Doria on Feb 20, 2023 12:29:29 GMT
Poor Marilyn, I think she was probably bipolar. I've read other things about her that said she would lie in bed and not bathe for days or weeks, then jump up during a manic stage, full of energy, and over clean herself with colonics and scalding baths. One theory is that she died from a normal dose of diet pills, but her system was so vulnerable from all the 'cleaning' it killed her.
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Post by I Love Melvin on Feb 21, 2023 0:12:17 GMT
Poor Marilyn, I think she was probably bipolar. I've read other things about her that said she would lie in bed and not bathe for days or weeks, then jump up during a manic stage, full of energy, and over clean herself with colonics and scalding baths. One theory is that she died from a normal dose of diet pills, but her system was so vulnerable from all the 'cleaning' it killed her. I hadn't heard about diet pills but it makes sense. She did several major photo shoots that year and they all showed a noticeable recent weight loss. (She looked better than she had in years.) As for the bipolar question, it would be interesting to hear from an expert looking back at the lives of some of the more troubled stars in the era before it was understood. I know a "diagnosis" would be impossible, but I bet a lot of light could be shed.
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Post by kims on Feb 21, 2023 1:42:13 GMT
Another possibility for star behavior is drugs. Remember VALLEY OF THE DOLLS? uppers to sparkle for the camera, downers to get sleep. Google "Dr. Feelgood" who peddled what he said were vitamins but had a healthy dose of meth. Check out wikipedia article on Max Jacobson. Look at the partial list of clients and consider if meth contributed to their behavior. I don't know if Judy Garland was a client, but she had years of drug use. At forty she looked 70 and the behavior was probably the effects of drugs.
As for George Jacob's book, big grain of salt
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Post by Fading Fast on Feb 28, 2023 10:44:43 GMT
The Human Comedy by William Saroyan, first published in 1943
"'The world's gone Mad,' he says. 'In Russia alone, so near our own country, our own beautiful little nation, millions of people, millions of children, every day go hungry. They are cold, pathetic, barefooted - they walk around - no place to sleep - they pray for a piece of dry bread - somewhere to lie down and rest - one night of peaceful sleep. And what about us? What do we do? Here we are in Ithaca, California, in this great country, America. What do we do? We wear good clothes. We put on good shoes every morning when we get up from sleep. We walk around with no one in the streets to come with guns or to burn our houses or to murder our children or brothers or fathers. We take rides out into the country in automobiles. We eat the best food. Every night when we go to bed we sleep - and then what are we? We are discontented. We are still discontented. The grocer shouted this amazing truth at his little son with terrible love for the boy.'"
- First generation American grocer to his son, but really, to no one in particular
The Human Comedy is a slice of life from America's home front during WWII. Ithaca California represents America in this tale imbued with spirituality and religion tempered by skeptical pragmatism. Much less a story than a series of related vignettes, we see life in this town, mainly through the preternaturally observant and pensive fourteen-year-old Homer Macauley who just started working as a messenger for one of the two telegraph companies in town.
And the telegraph office offers Homer a shortcut to all of life's ups and downs as celebratory birthday-wishes telegrams come in as frequently as do U.S. Military ones notifying a family of a son's, husband's or father's death. The telegraph's dispassionate beeps become words on paper which become messages of the human comedy, that, upon delivery, Homer quickly learns results in a welter of emotions.
Homer grows up fast in this job. But he also grows up just observing and participating in life like when his slightly older sister begins to show interest in boys as a few soldiers on leave spontaneously take her and a girlfriend to the movies. And he grows up just a bit more when a high school coach plays obvious favorites in a track event dispelling the notion that all adults are honest, virtuous and promote fair play.
Regular life in the community also goes by. Boys swim in the nearby lake, play pickup games of baseball, tease a bit, but also protect (what today we'd call) a mentally challenged boy - children can be alternately cruel and kind. Games of horseshoes get played, apricots get "stolen" from a neighbor's tree (the tree's owner loves that the boys do this), while Cokes get drunk and lemon pies get eaten.
Homer's four year old brother - who is given free rein in the town (his good and loving mother for the times would be in jail today on child-abuse charges) - takes joy in waving to the men on passing trains (hurt when they don't wave back, ebullient when they do) or watching his brother work at the telegraph office or his mother hanging clothes out to dry.
With Homer's older brother, whom he worships, away at war, Homer connects the tragedy of the telegrams he delivers to the fear his mother feels and he begins to feel. But the family carries on enjoying dinners, playing piano and singing together or just walking into town to run errands.
Homer's boss is a wealthy young man who manages the telegraph office out of a passion for the business not a need to work He introduces Homer to the economics of business, the nuances of relationships - will he marries his pushing-for-a-proposal girlfriend - and respect for the elderly as Homer and his boss take care of the old telegraph operator, a functioning alcoholic who's been kinda broken by life.
Homer has a crush on the pretty girl at school, irrationally acts out at another boy she shows interest in, stirs the pot in class and then genuinely apologizes to the teacher. He inconsistently practices for the community's annual big running competition, races around town like mad on his bicycle and ignores injuries, rightfully confident in his adolescent body's ability to heal itself. Basically, Homer is a fourteen-year-old boy.
Meanwhile, back at his job, Homer sorta discovers the town brothel when he delivers a telegram to one of "the girls." Separately, he also intuitively and kindly plays surrogate son for an hour to a mother who just learned, from a telegram Homer delivered, that her own son was killed in the war.
Harvests come, prisoners from the local jail take exercise in the town square, the hardware store gets in a newly invented trap for catching animals that proceeds to trap only Homer's four-year-old brother, the telegraph office gets held up, the wonderfully name Mary Arena, Homer's away-at-war brother's girlfriend, becomes a de facto part of Homer's family and on it goes.
There's no plot other than real life moving forward for the year or so the book covers. But you feel the 1940s, the home front, Ithaca, California, people, life, goodness, decency, some mendacity, a little corruption and people's hope, dreams and fears - you feel America during World War II. You also feel, as the quote above avers, a materially fortunate America, with many of its men fighting overseas, a bit discontent, but soldiering on. Taking it all in, you feel in Saroyan's book - just gotta say it - the human comedy that is life.
N.B. The Human Comedy was turned into an outstanding 1943 movie with Mickey Rooney, Frank Morgan, James Craig, Donna Reed and Van Johnson. My brief comments on it here (please scroll down to the second movie): "The Human Comedy".
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Post by Andrea Doria on Feb 28, 2023 11:19:16 GMT
Thank you! That sounds so good, both the book and the movie. My book club loves books written in the past, I think I'll recommend it.
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Post by Fading Fast on Feb 28, 2023 12:13:12 GMT
Thank you! That sounds so good, both the book and the movie. My book club loves books written in the past, I think I'll recommend it. Ooh, that's some pressure. If your club does read it, I really hope the members like it and I don't become known as "that idiot who recommend that stupid 'The Human Comedy' book to us."
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Post by Fading Fast on Mar 26, 2023 7:53:07 GMT
Eight Men Out by Elite Asinof, published in 1963
Note: My comments are based on this book, published in '63, which had been considered the "definitive" book on the White Sox scandal for years, but new information has come to light since that expands on the story and contradicts some of Asinof's points. See here "The Black Sox Scandal" for one example of the newer information.
First, a couple of lessons from the book and life: the world was just as corrupt and mendacious in 1919 as it is today. Whatever level of corruption and mendacity you assume, you are too low, then and now.
Surprisingly, the scheme to throw the World Series in return for money was thought up and put in motion by the players who, then, reached out to the gamblers who, even in their line of work, had to be a bit taken back by players, apparently, offering up a fixed World Series on a silver platter. "Anything interesting happen in your day, Dear?"
The eight White Sox players who collaborated on the fix all had their individual motivations - some seemed all about the money, others seemed a bit about the money and a bit about raising a (cloaked) middle finger to a sport and an owner they felt were cheating them.
They weren't wrong. Think what you will about players today landing hundred-plus-million-dollar contracts, the alternative in 1919 was players treated like the owners' chattel who grudgingly paid them a small percentage of their true economic value (as can be seen by the small salaries the players received relative to the large dollar amounts the owners received when they traded a player).
The White Sox Eight felt particularly aggrieved as they believed owner Charles Comiskey was especially penurious versus other owners. Nothing angers a man more than seeing someone else get paid more for doing the same job. To be sure, the players were still paid, in general, three to six times what the average American was making in 1919, but again, nothing infuriates a man more than seeing someone else get paid a larger amount for the same work.
(The article in the link at the top argues this relative-to-other-teams pay disparity noted in Asinof's book did not really exist; regardless, the owners absolutely did "own" the players and captured the majority of their economic value.)
To launch this scheme, the players reached out to the gamblers. The smarter ones (read Abe Rothstein, "The Big Bankroll") kept several arm's lengths between them and the fraud, leaving the day-to-day interaction to the lower-level gambler hacks who made a complete mess of it.
Corrupt activities suffer from a lack of a legal construct to enforce contracts making translating them into action - executing on a plan requiring trust covering large sums of money to be paid over several weeks - incredibly difficult to manage.
None of them - not one of these second-tier gamblers or amateur-crook players - handled this well. Instead of using game theory strategies to build incremental trust, everyone was greedy. The gamblers outright cheated the players which was stupid as the players then lost heart in the scheme.
It turned into a version of Keystone-Cops chaos. The gamblers promised the players upfront money and, then, reneged (in part so that they had more money to actually bet on the game and in part because they held the players in contempt). The players, having decided to cheat and some having already taken some money, had no good response to not getting the said promised money as they had already corrupted themselves and the gamblers always held out the promise of more money "after the next game."
It was particularly fun seeing the players - angry as all heck at the cheating gamblers - lie to the gamblers about their intentions in game three, resulting in most of the gamblers losing their shirts (not Rothstein, though, as he saw the risk of betting on individual games and only bet on the full series).
To be sure, it's a complex moral equation at play when you are rooting for the group of cheaters that got cheated by the other group of cheaters - sigh. A few smart leaders could have managed this scheme much better.
Nipping at everyone's heels all throughout was the media who heard the rumors and smelled the stink, but couldn't get well-sourced-and-confirmed information. Owing to liability concerns, the stories that were printed were vague and qualified.
The somewhat-real story only broke because a few of the cheating (and cheated by the gamblers) players, well into the following season, decided to confess (in a moment driven by a mix of conscience and a desire to hurt others - players and gamblers - who seemed to get away with more money).
Those confessions - made in Chicago to the District Attorney's office - set off a firestorm of public fury and legal machinations. At least by today's standards, everything, including the confessions themselves, were executed in a slipshod, intentionally-disingenuous or outright-crooked manner to tip the outcome one way or another.
The confessing players were duped into signing liability waivers; payoffs (think Rothstein pulling strings from far away) made evidence disappear; other evidence or documents suddenly appeared out of nowhere; investigations were funded by rivals; high-priced attorneys - mysteriously paid - popped up to defend the players and no one would accuse the judge of impartiality.
Out of this poorly aimed circular firing squad came a legal exoneration for the players on, kind of, a technicality. But the public was less kind and Major League Baseball - after its own "investigation -" went into high-dudgeon mode against the players resulting in not one of the eight ever playing in the major leagues again (some did go on to play semi-pro and exhibitions games, etc.).
So what were or are the lessons? The public was cheated as its national pastime - never fully honest to start with - was corrupted in its marquee event by some of its marquee players. The expression "Say it ain't so, Joe," referencing famous Shoeless Joe Jackson's role, sadly came into the American lexicon.
The owners were greedy bullies who were handed a scandal owing, in part, to their greed and bullying.
The cheating players were cogs ground down by the owners, but again, most professional ballplayers didn't cheat and earning a multiple of what the average American earned minimizes one's sympathy for those who did cheat.
The newspapers somehow, for the most part, missed the biggest sports and cultural story of its day until it was handed to them.
The gamblers - well, few go into the gambling racket because they have a high regard for the law and, as in every "profession," there are the smart ones who rise to the top (Rothstein) and the hacks who were handed an easy victory but made one unforced error after another until they lost the game.
If there's less fixing of games today and less gambling by players, etc., it's not because human nature has improved, it's because the the vast sums of legal money that sluices to everyone involved in Major League Baseball today reduces the incentive to risk it all on cheating. But as we've learned, some still do and aways will.
Despite the new information since its publication, Eight Men Out is still an excellent place to start one's discovery of, perhaps, the sports world's most notorious scandal: a scandal that revealed as much about America in 1919 and human nature always as it did about the sport of baseball itself.
(Comments on the excellent 1988 movie version of the book can be found here: "Eight Men Out")
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Post by Fading Fast on Apr 15, 2023 5:37:27 GMT
The Asphalt Jungle by W.R. Burnett originally published in 1949
I enjoyed the movie (comments here: "The Asphalt Jungle"), so much so, that I bought the book. And the book did not disappoint.
Noir, hard-boil, heist story, crime drama: The Asphalt Jungle fits in all of those categories as it walks you, step by step, through the planing, execution and denouement of a professional jewelry store robbery in a large, seedy and corrupt Midwest city in post-war America.
This is no regular "heist" story, though, as the characters are so well developed that you feel as if you know them. And while you won't be proud to admit this, you are almost rooting for some, not all, of the bad guys to get away with it.
The brains behind this caper is a short, bald, nondescript, German immigrant who was just released from jail: "professional" criminal Erin Riedenschneider. He's respectfully known in his "field" as "Herr Doktor" or "The Professor" as he is a mastermind of heists. He is a thinking man's criminal who, one believes, could easily have been a real doctor, a professor or some other highly educated or intellectual man had his life taken a different path.
But he operates on the "other" side of the law and begins recruiting gang members and raising financing for a new heist immediately upon his release from prison. It's so thoughtfully done that his approach is like that of a start-up business looking to hire experienced employees while soliciting funds from established backers. But of course, it's all harder as it has to happen in the shadows and noir nooks of the city, especially with a new and driven police commissioner trying to crack down on crime.
This is where the book shines as you see a smart man assemble a team and source funds with the focus and planning of any honest business, except he moves through the city's gambling parlors, back rooms, seedy corners and, occasionally, into the somewhat respectable houses of men who keep one foot in the legitimate world and one in the criminal one.
Along the way, he brings together a team comprised of an experienced safecracker who approaches his job as any legitimate technician would, a hump-backed getaway driver with an incredible knowledge of the illegal networks operating in the city and a big, strong, but maybe unstable, "thug" about to age-out of his "profession," who just wants to make enough money to "get home."
Eventually, "Herr Doktor" obtains financing from a slick, quasi-respectable lawyer with all the shiny accoutrements of a successful life - proper wife, big house, expensive cars, fancy clothes, imported cigars, flashy jewelry and a young girlfriend tucked away in a second big house - but unbeknownst to all, he's drowning in debt and looking for his take (or perhaps more than his take) of the heist to bail him out. He also offers to fence the stolen goods.
Each man in the team, in his own way, has his concerns and weaknesses. The safecracker has a wife and child he loves and worries deeply about (think of any good family man whose job happens to be safe cracking, not insurance sale); the financing lawyer has his mountain of debt; the "Doktor" has a weakness for young women (he's got a pimp on speed dial); the getaway driver has a blinding hatred of the police and the "thug" is dragging around "Doll," his stupid but fanatically loyal girlfriend that he wants to dump but he just can't bring himself to do it.
Building this team of well-regarded-in-their-field criminals is more than half the book and it's worth it as, by the time you get to the heist itself, you are vested in these men and, sadly, rooting for, at least, a few of them to get away with it. The honest business and insurance company that will pay for the crime are amorphous to us at this point, but we, against our better natures, now identify with several of the men. When an author can warp your morality like that, you know you are in the hands of a talented writer.
After that, it's the heist with the professionals proving their mettle as they overcome several unplanned obstacles, but as always, fate plays a hand as well. Then, it's on to the dual challenge of escaping the city and monetizing their "work" by selling the jewels through a fence. Neither is easy as the aforementioned police commissioner sets up an all-encompassing dragnet, while the fence, the "respectable" lawyer, tries a double-cross. At this point, you are patting yourself on the back for having chosen the apparently much-easy path in life of making an honest living.
The Asphalt Jungle deserves more attention in its genre than it seems to get. W.R. Burnett has penned a hard-boiled noir fiction that can stand up proudly next to the works of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett and James M. Cain. You would think it would be better known today as it birthed, possibly, the best noir/heist movie of the post-war era. But despite its lack of present-day popularity, the book's trip through mid-century noirland is still a gripping and eye-opening read.
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Post by sepiatone on Apr 15, 2023 16:08:33 GMT
Thanks Pizza face, Didn't know there was a book it came from. Now I have another "gotta find" on my growing list of books. Sepiatone
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Post by Fading Fast on May 4, 2023 6:23:13 GMT
The Late George Apley by John P. Marquand originally published in 1938
This novel is a 1930s' version of a progressive look-back at a Boston Brahmin born just after the Civil War who tried to embody all that being an upper-class, protestant, proper-Bostonian of his day, 1870s - 1930s, entailed.
Today, it's easy to mock, even denounce, that culture and conduct, but as always, using simple shorthands and only a modern perspective to judge a different time and place misses the context and circumstances that created that man, moment and way of life.
It is a way of life that clearly was already on the way out when this Pulitzer Prize winning novel was penned. Written in the form of a memoir, we learn about George Apley mainly through his copious correspondence with family and friends. It takes some adjustment reading a novel composed mainly of the lead character's letters, but once you settle in, the different personalities come to life and the family reveals are powerful.
Apley was born on third base, but breaking the metaphor, he understood that his entire life, and tried to live up to the responsibilities the role and fates demanded of him. It meant following a prescribed path and belief system where one's individual wants and passions are suppressed because the good of the family, the social structure and Boston comes first.
That makes it, despite his, for the most part, unearned wealth and position, an odd and, oftentimes, difficult life as one rarely does what one wants to, but what one is supposed to do as George Apley's father, wider family and circle of older friends makes very clear to George from an early age.
College-age George painfully learns this lesson when an affair with a local Irish girl (the horror!) turns serious and the family steps in, not to force - almost nothing is forced on George - but to explain why a marriage to this admittedly nice girl would damage, not just George, but all those directly and indirectly relying on him to carry on the responsibility of being an Apley.
They note the clubs he wouldn't be admitted to (important for connections in that day), the leading businessmen that would turn away from the family's firm, the social circles and other informal seats of power that would shun him and how even his children would carry a stigma.
As the male heir of the main Apley branch, he would be undermining the entire family and its history. Even with a modern perspective of how ridiculous all this sounds, you can feel the intense pressure on Apley to part company with his Irish girlfriend and marry only within his class - which he sadly does.
That sets the pattern for George's life as choice after choice - work, clubs, committees, how to raise his children, even where to bury the family's dead - is made for the greater good of the family, the Brahmins and the city of Boston. He does all this even though, in Boston, his class's leading influence is already, if not admittedly, in decline.
George the individual almost ceases to exist as his fealty to his role, to its value to the family and wider society becomes who he is. Decisions aren't made based on individual desire but a holistic-group perspective, which (theme alert) diminishes and damages the individual.
Harder still, all this attempted molding and grooming to lead the Apley family is repeated in George's son John. (Spoiler alert) However, after seeing up close what this soul-crushing responsibility did to his father, son John walks away from it all. However, he did it not in a 1960s style "I hate you" rebellion, but by graduating Harvard Law (as expected) and then taking a job and building a career and life in New York (Sodom and Gomorrah to a Boston Brahmin).
In some of the most heartbreaking moments in the book, George tries to cajole and induce, but never force or threaten, John back to Boston as he sees all that his life has stood for implicitly renounced by his son. But the son and daughter, who refuses to marry "in her class," want no part of the Apley legacy as they see, not only the personal damage the Brahmin life causes, but that its entire belief system is dated and failing.
The Late George Apley is not only a eulogy for George Apley the man, but also for the Brahmin way of life, especially as social and civic leaders of Boston. Today we see that former leadership as prejudiced, classist and elitist. It was all those things and it was wrong. But those inside the system were no more all evil than the oppressed are ever all angelic.
Apley was a man of his times; times we can denounce today, but a man who lived a life within that construct with an integrity and fortitude that can't so easily be dismissed. The value in Marquand's Pulitzer Prize winner is its perceptive capture of George Apply as a representative of a ruling class in its twilight.
There is a 1947 movie, The Late George Apley, based on the book that stars Ronald Coleman.
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