The scene I read last night has got to be one of the best of the book: A confrontation with Helen Lawson. But first we had to meet Kevin Gillmore, Anne's 57-year-old manfriend. He sleeps over, but in a separate twin bed. Anne cares for him but doesn't feel the passion she did with Lyon. That's an understatement when she calls her relationship with Kevin "antiseptic." It's a relationship more of convenience than love. It's unfortunate because this is exactly the relationship she would've had with Allen Cooper, who she tossed aside for Lyon. She once again rationalizes it by saying perhaps passionate love is really not something proper ladies feel. But she knows she is settling because Kevin refuses to marry her or give her children because he's already raised a family.
Soon she realized that with all his worldliness, he was totally unsophisticated about the act of love. Obviously he had been quite pure when he married his wife, and she must have been equally chaste and unimaginative. They probably never progressed beyond a few limp kisses and the mechanical act of intercourse. After his wife's death there must have been girls, and some of them must have gone all out--but he probably related this kind of sex to girls with loose morals. Anne was a lady, as his wife had been. And so he accepted her frigidity as the normal attribute of a lady, and being a gentleman, he expected nothing more. (323-4)
He even tells her to a face that she's a New England prude, but he says it as though it's a term of endearment. She's still holding out for Lyon, and I sort of am, too. I just can't tell if this book is going to have a "happy" ending or not. It would seem unrealistic for Lyon to come back, but it might happen in a book. On to the excitement ...
Neely came back to New York, so she's hanging out with Anne. They go to the opening of Helen's new show, and it flops. They see her later in what starts as a fairly amicable meeting. Then Helen cops an attitude in an attempt to redeem her dignity in the face of the girls who for a while had looked up to her.
"Don't be so la-de-dah with me. I read the papers. You're a girl without a contract now. You've gone far for the little guttersnipe I gave a break to, but--"
Neely jumped up and stared at Helen with blazing eyes. ... "What did you call me!"
Helen stood up and faced her squarely. "A guttersnipe. What else were you? A third-rate vaudeville tramp who never even went to school. I was surprised you could even read the lyrics. I only gave you that break because of me and Anne being so buddy-buddy."
"Buddy-buddy! All you cared about was having her pimp for you," Neely snapped. (333)
Minutes later, Neely pulls Helen's hair hard enough to rip off the villain's wig. Then she attempts to flush it down the toilet. It was an incredible scene. It reminded me of Jim Carrey in "The Cable Guy." Salt peanuts, salt peanuts ... It was just the motivation Neely needed.
Women sure were funny--you could talk your head off and get nowhere, but then let them spend ten minutes alone together in a powder room and anything could happen. ... (337)
- To my dismay, I found the word "insure" twice where "ensure" belonged. It was fortunate Susann redeemed herself with the antiseptic bit, or else I might not have blamed the copy editors. I concede usage may have evolved since 1966, but this is one of my pet peeves. I heart you, Associated Press.
- Vibrato = a pulsating effect in vocal tone produced by slight and rapid variations in pitch. Apparently it was a bad thing for Helen Lawson.
- Guttersnipe = gamin
- According to Neely, the camera adds not only 10 pounds, but also 20 years.
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