Tag Archives: Long Island

The New Life of Hugo Gardner: Louis Begley

My first Louis Begley book was About Schmidt and I came to it via the film. Can’t say I liked the film much but there was something about the main character that drove me to check out the source material. Since then, I’ve read a few other novels by the same author, so when I saw The New Life of Hugo Gardner, I knew I had to read it. 

the new life of hugo gardner

Hugo Gardner is 84, he’s still healthy–although there are some nagging questions about his PSA. He’s had a phenomenal career as a journalist and author, he’s wealthy, he has two children, Barbara and Rod and he’s happily married to Valerie. Wait … he thought he was happily married, so Hugo is stunned one day to get a phone call from Valerie’s new lawyer who tells Hugo that Valerie, a successful food writer who has her own cooking show, wants a divorce. Valerie, at “a very shapely 61” has left Hugo for a younger man. Oh the humiliation. Hugo wants to confirm his wife’s decision:

Don’t you know that living with you is like living with a corpse? Not even a zombie. An unburied corpse! I can’t stand you, I haven’t been able to stand you for years! You don’t know that, imbecile!


Hugo lawyers up, and after the first shock passes, the divorce moves quickly and as painlessly as possible.

This life-changing event causes Hugo to reevaluate himself as a husband and a father, and all this takes him back to revisit his past in the form of the girlfriend he dumped when he met Valerie.

On one level, it’s hard as a reader to relate to Hugo–he’s part of the 1%, with a great New York apartment and a house in Bridgehampton. Trips to Paris, eating at the finest restaurants and hiring staff to clean etc all come easy to Hugo. But scrape that aside and this is an engaging tale of a man who suddenly finds himself alone, wondering if he made the right choices, troubled by his children, and facing his own mortality. Hugo may be 84, but there’s still a lot of living to be done, and his zest for life is admirable. There’s some marvellous stuff between Hugo and his daughter, Barbara. Hugo continually shells out money for his grandchildren and while he wonders what is going on between Barbara and her dermatologist husband, he never questions or refuses her requests for money. For him, it’s there no moral decision involved

Barbara’s calls, the ones timed for when I would have finished breakfast but hadn’t yet gone out, were often of the ‘I’ve got something I’d sort of like to ask you’ variety. Duly translated they meant: I want some money. For the kids’ piano and dance lessons, summer camp fees, and the like. Why her dermatologist husband, practicing in Wellesley, which is, to my knowledge, still a wealthy suburb, can’t afford this stuff, I don’t know. The truth is that I don’t much care. When I am invited, for instance, to fund my elder granddaughter Trudy’s first-year tuition at a private day school, a sum for which I could have bought myself a Mercedes two-seater, I reply, but of course. Why should I say no? I have no desire to become the owner of that two-seater and love unconditionally my daughter and granddaughters.

The story is set against the upcoming presidential nomination, and Hugo isn’t shy about expressing his political opinions. Hugo is in many ways a disconnected character. His divorce comes as a shock,  his daughter’s resentments are unexpected tirades (later explained) and he’s not that close with his son. Later when Hugo reconnects (and reignites sexually) with an old flame in Paris, he’s also far behind the 8 ball. Hugo, who leads an active life of the mind, is self-absorbed and so he’s always taken off guard in his personal relationships. That will never change. But ultimately, he’s a character who travels lightly–bears no grudges, rolls with the punches, and deals with life’s humiliations with equanimity and gentle self-deprecating humour.

Review copy



Filed under Begley, Louis, Fiction

If I Die Before I Wake: Sherwood King

I climbed onto the raft and reached down for her. She put one hand on my wrist and the other on my shoulder and came up easily, laughing. At the top she slipped and held on close. A shiver went through her. I put my hand on her back to steady her and felt her hair like dark seaweed in my face.”

Sherwood King’s  (1904-1981) novel If I Die Before I Wake serves as the basis of the Orson Welles film Lady of Shanghai. If you’ve seen the film, then you know that it’s not without its problems, and if you read about the making of the film, you’ll discover that the director (Welles) and the star (Rita Hayworth) were in the throes of a marriage breakup during the filming, and a fair amount of the film’s problems are thrown onto the domestic difficulties of this famous couple. The film, cut substantially before its release, was considered one of Welles’ worst failures, and it’s a film that divides his critics from his fans.  So this brings me to the book on which the film is based: If I Die Before I Wake. What a great title, and take a look at that cover:

If I Die Before I wake And here’s how this tale begins:

Sure,” I said. “I would commit murder. If I had to, of course, or if it was worth my while.”

I said this as though I meant it too. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it at all.

“The way I figure it,” I said, “a man’s got to die some time. All murder does is hurry it up. What more is there to it?”

You know–talk. What any young fellow might say, just to show he’s not afraid of anything.

There had been a murder out our way. On Long Island. Some society woman had shot her husband. He hadn’t been doing anything, just raiding the icebox for a midnight snack. But (she said) she’d thought he was a burglar … five bullets’ worth. Police were holding her; some insurance angle.

This strong beginning comes from the narrator–a young, well-built ex-sailor, Laurence Planter, a drifter who seemed to hit a lucky streak when he swam onto a private beach belonging to wealthy middle-aged attorney, Bannister. Bannister seems to have a lot: a beautiful red-headed, sexy young wife, Elsa, a lucrative practice, and a fabulous home near the beach, but Bannister is permanently disfigured from war injuries. These are physical scars, of course, but he’s also dismal, “bitter and a little screwy” about his limitations. When Laurence turns up on the beach, Bannister hires him on the spot as a chauffeur, and Laurence, broke and unemployed, takes the job, living in a small room above the Bannister’s garage.

Laurence hasn’t been there long when he’s approached by Grisby, a sleazy, fast-talking character who happens to be Bannister’s law-partner.  Seems that Grisby is unhappily married, and wants a divorce, so he’s dreamed up a scheme in which Laurence is supposed to murder Grisby, so that Grisby can escape from a marriage he can’t stand. Laurence will get $5,000 for his trouble and Grisby will collect the insurance money that will fund a new life in the South Seas. According to Grisby, it’s a foolproof plan:

You know they talk about the perfect crime. There’s some defect in all of them. Ours will be the perfect crime, perfectly executed. And the first essential is that I be killed, the second that you be in a position to prove you killed me.

The plan stinks, and so obviously full of holes, that Laurence, even though he can almost taste that  5,000, balks at the idea. Grisby  assures Laurence that this will be “the perfect crime;” he won’t be convicted and fry for the ‘murder’ as there won’t be a body.

Suppose they put you in jail for a while, or even the psychopathic ward, if they thought you were nuts, what of it? Let ’em. Any dumb lawyer could get you out, if they don’t even have a body–and they won’t have. I’ll see to that. Besides, what’s a little time in jail compared to five thousand waiting for you when you get out?

With Grisby’s goading,  Laurence agrees to the plan–even though it makes little sense to Laurence (or to the reader).  Laurence begins asking questions, and then when he finally puts the brakes on and demands to know what Grisby is holding back, Grisby claims this was “just a test” before he revealed the real plan. The “real” plan is even worse than the first plan, but Laurence foolishly agrees and soon finds himself facing a murder rap.

A million things could go wrong: Laurence could be beaten or sent to the psycho ward for years, and what good is 5,000 going to be except to hire an expensive lawyer to fight your case? Grisby’s plot is overly convoluted and hard to swallow, and it only works if Laurence is a complete idiot–which, it turns out, he is. There’s a double cross, a triple cross and a quadruple cross before this tale of lust and greed is over. If I Die Before I Wake is a fast-paced read and written in a tough, terse style. After reading this, now the problems of The Lady of Shanghai begin to make a lot more sense….

There’s a story behind the story of The Lady of Shanghai. According to Welles, he was in Boston working on a stage production of Around the World in 80 Days. Welles states they “were unable to get the costumes from the station because $50,000 was due and our producer Mr. Todd had gone broke.” Welles, using a pay phone called Harry Cohn, head of Columbia Pictures and desperate for cash, he improvised:

“I have a great story for you if you could send me $50,000 by telegram in one hour. I’ll sign a contract to make it.”  “What story?” Cohn said. I was calling from a pay phone, and next to it was a display of paperbacks and I gave him the title of one of them, Lady from Shanghai. I said, “Buy the novel and I’ll make the film.” An hour later, we got the money. (from This is Orson Welles by Orson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich)*

Naturally since Welles grabbed the book without reading it, he was unaware of the convoluted, problematic plot. Incidentally, William Castle already owned the rights to the book, so he served as associate producer to the film which, made by pure chance, made film noir history.  Orson Welles, who’d intended to make a film that felt like an “off-kilter” bad dream found that the nightmare was his own, and after seeing the edited version of the film, he sent a nine page memo with various suggestions to Harry Cohn, but all of his arguments were ignored. No wonder Harry Cohn, head of Columbia Pictures offered to pay a thousand dollars to anyone in the viewing room who could explain the plot of The Lady from Shanghai  (Orson Welles: Interviews with Filmmakers, Ed. Mark W. Estrin . Cohn should have read the book, and if he did he’d understand that Welles’ created a difficult, brilliant interpretation of the troublesome raw material.

*There are a couple of different versions about how the book If I Die Before I Wake came to be made into a film, so the source is included.


Filed under Fiction, King Sherwood

Compromising Positions by Susan Isaacs

I shrugged my shoulders. “You know, whips are understandable. Leather, chains, all that stuff. But I can’t comprehend bananas.”

Illness and an inability to concentrate forced me to set aside heavier reads, and I reached instead for a book that required very little of me: Compromising Positions by Susan Isaacs. If you’re wondering about my choice, the book was made into a rather funny 1985 film starring Susan Sarandon.

Compromising Positions is set in the snobby set of Long Island– a community in which a prestigious address is as important as membership at the local country club, and housebound wives are involved in a smattering of ‘good works,’ and child-rearing while keeping their homes immaculate for their commuting professional husbands. The protagonist is Judith Singer, a bored thirty-something wife and mother of two with too much time on her hands. When local periodontist, and as it turns out playboy, Dr. Bruce Fleckstein is murdered by single stab to the base of the skull, Judith’s curiosity leads to a few innocent questions. The innocent questions lead to a full-blown amateur investigation or relentless nosiness, depending on your point of view.

When news of Dr Fleckstein’s murder is announced it rocks the quiet, dull little community. On one level, everyone has a difficult time accepting that a wealthy professional was murdered in broad daylight in his office. But even more than that it seems that naughty Bruce couldn’t keep his hands off his patients. Rumours of a pornography ring, secret photographs and even a mafia connection begin to emerge.

Just why Judith is so curious about Dr. Fleckstein’s murder is every bit as interesting as the crime itself. It seems that the libidinous Bruce propositioned everyone except Judith, and part of her curiosity about the murder lurks in her ego and the fact she feels personally insulted that she was not propositioned:

Men like Fleckstein, who wear gold chains around their necks and have manicures, tend to ignore me. I seem to attract hypercerebral types, chubby astrophysicists in wire-rimmed glasses who tell me I have a first-rate mind while staring at my breasts.

Judith finds it difficult to credit the sheer numbers that the late Long Island Don Juan racked up, and soon it becomes easier to keep track of who he didn’t have an affair with. Judith discovers that Dr. Fleckstein had a very definite M.O.–hitting on the wives of wealthy men, often at parties but sometimes while they sat in the dental chair. He followed up with a phone call, a string of ridiculous compliments, lunch and then a quick trip to the Tudor Rose Motor Inn for assignations. Oddly enough, Fleckstein passed over a few of the community’s gorgeous women and instead preyed on many unattractive, downright boring wives–the type you’d never suspect of a little afternoon hanky-panky.

Obviously with that many affairs under his jockstrap, just who would have wanted to kill Fleckstein cannot be easily narrowed down. There’s Bruce’s long-term squeeze–his jealous nurse Lorna Lewis and his icy wife, Norma. Then add to the list of possible suspects dozens of pissed off husbands and sobbing discarded mistresses.

Judith is pulled into the murder case when one of her neighbours asks for her help, but this is just the excuse she was waiting for. While Judith spies and noses around, a main focus here becomes Judith’s marriage to Bob. Bob’s ever-increasing late nights at work allow Judith freedom for sleuthing, but since Bob doesn’t approve of Judith expressing even mild curiosity in the scandal, she finds herself hiding her actions from Bob and confiding, instead, in a couple of female friends–including married writer Nancy. Nancy maintains a string of lovers, and one of her more recent  conquests, a local cop,  feeds them information about the case.

Compromising Positions is entertaining, but that’s not to say that it didn’t annoy me at many junctures. It’s written in a very definite style–something along the lines of a wise-cracking newspaper column but extended for about 250 pages. Some of the dialogue is unrealistic, and most of it is constant banter edged with sarcasm. In one passage, Judith speculates about penis size, and I thought this was very juvenile.  Here’s an example of one of the annoying passages which takes place between Nancy and Judith:

“What’s her name?”

“I forget. Some Jewish name.”

“Great. That’s really terrific. I marvel at your powers of recollection. If it was Belinda Jo Slattery, Jr., you’d remember it.”

“Women can’t be juniors. Anyway, it was Naomi Goldberg.”


“No. But if you think I’m going to sit here and take shit from you, you’re whistling Dixie.”

“I would never whistle Dixie,” I vowed.

So why did I keep reading? Judith was easy company and I wanted to find out who killed Bruce Fleckstein.  The R word creeps in here or perhaps it’s just sex wrapped up in Romance.

Some of the best parts of the book concern the snobby women in the community who are now forced to face the fallout from their fornication. These are high-maintenance women who wear designer labels, get regular massages at the local spa, and eat at Quelle Crepe. Most of them are really irritating, so the fact that they’ve been memorialized in cheap Polaroid photos flagrante delicito wearing naughty leather outfits and sporting whips and chains is nastily funny. An underlying current is womens’ liberation and the idea that women who function as housewives may be inherently unhappy. Unhappiness leads to boredom, and boredom led to Bruce. Judith, for example, has permanently shelved her dissertation in order to sink elbow deep into domesticity.

Published in 1978. Compromising Positions was a best-seller and it’s still in print. Not really my taste but the sales figures indicate this book hits a mainstream current of taste.


Filed under Isaacs Susan