Barely Making a Dent: April 2018 Books

In which our narrator tries to read his way through the endless stacks of books that are slowly overtaking both his bookshelves and his life.

There she is again, the unofficial patron saint of this column.

Who am I kidding with "unofficial"? It's official: she's the patron saint of this column.

While I've long been fascinated with Marilyn Monroe's celebrity, it's really how that celebrity negatively affected her sense of self that interests me most. She was always the mythical unicorn, the long-gone starlet from decades past whose impact has only grown in popular culture since her death in 1962. When Madonna went platinum blonde in the 1980s even adolescent me could feel Marilyn's influence, or at least a commentary on her influence, at play.

Yet, until recently, and beyond various magazine articles, I hadn't read many sustained works about her. Then serendipity struck and, within a few short months, I found myself the owner of three books on Marilyn—Fragments: Intimate Notes, Poems, Letters; Marilyn in Manhattan: Her Year of Joy; and Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox—along with a like-new Blu-ray copy of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. One was a review copy, one a freebie, and two deeply discounted. I chose to see it as a sign that I finally needed to dig a little deeper into the Marilyn mythos.

I've read one of the books in full (see below) and perused another (Fragments, consisting of her personal reflections—often handwritten, even). There was a sadness to Marilyn that I find attractive—not in that juvenile way of finding gloom and darkness sexy, but because it seems to sincerely hint at something more. All of the most interesting people have that quality to them. There was a depth to her, a sensitivity and an intelligence, often obscured by the studio's cultivated blonde bombshell exterior.

It's that something more about Marilyn that continues to intrigue us all these years later. After all, why else do we yearn to understand our larger than life pop culture icons, than to better understand ourselves?

More Marilyn to come, but for now here's the latest that I'm reading, have read or acquired, and hope to read soon.

Recently read:

Marilyn in Manhattan, by Elizabeth Winder. I adored this book, and it's certainly made me love Marilyn even more than I already did. You can read my extended thoughts on it if you're interested.

I'll Be Gone in the Dark, by Michelle McNamara. A stunning work. Chilling. Haunting. Absolutely essential reading for anyone with the slightest interest in the true crime genre. The Golden State Killer's terrifying reign over Californians in the 1970s and 1980s is chronicled here with devastating detail and a heartbreaking authorial voice from McNamara. You feel her pain as she recounts horrifying rapes and murders that plagued Northern and Southern California for over a decade and have since been linked by DNA as the work of a lone serial offender. McNamara emphasizes repeatedly how the ripple effects from the sheer devastation this one man left in his wake tore families apart, ruined careers and lives, and destroyed the sanctity of the home. Two aspects make the book an especially devastating read—the Golden State Killer has never been caught, and McNamara died in her sleep before finishing this book. She was only 46. This is the kind of book that stays with you for a long time. It should make several "Best of 2018" reading lists later this year. Highly recommended.

Currently reading:

The Dead Zone, by Stephen King. Another classic King I'm catching up with. Loved the film as a kid, never got around to the book until now.

Jim Starlin's Infinity saga, spread across several 1990s series, including Silver Surfer, The Thanos Quest, The Infinity Gauntlet, Warlock and the Infinity Watch, The Infinity War, etc. These comics are the basis for this month's Avengers: Infinity War film. This is my Marvel Cosmic, and Jim Starlin is its architect. Much of the Marvel mythos was built by Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, but it was a handful of talented renegade writers and artists starting in the 1970s like Steven Englehart, Frank Brunner, Steve Gerber, and Jim Starlin who continued and expanded the legacy of Lee and Kirby, influencing Marvel's history in ways that are still felt today. I met Starlin once in a movie theater in Rhinebeck, NY. I expressed my gratitude for how much his work meant to me (especially his Warlock and Thanos stuff). We talked publishing and Marvel movies, and his partner was sweet and engaging with my wife and I. Good memory.

House of Psychotic Women, by Kier-La Janisse. Haven't had a chance to read much of this one yet, but I'm simply blown away by Janisse's personal memoir meets critical analysis of women in horror. Once I'm done I hope to write more about this book. It's an incredible accomplishment.

Recently acquired

The Linda Ronstadt Scrapbook, by Mary Ellen Moore. A sweet score for four bucks and change, this coffee-table sized biography from 1978 (and the copy I found is in very good shape) is loaded with black and white photos. And that cover! I've said it before but I'll say it again: if I had to choose a desert island artist, meaning I could only take their albums with me, I'd be hard pressed to choose anyone other than Linda. Her music, that voice, would be all I'd need out at sea, alone, forever.

The Little Book of the Fantastic Four, by various. This book really is little. Fits right in your pocket, but it's loaded with gorgeous art, brief annotations and historical notes (from comics legend and historian Roy Thomas), and excerpts from over fifty years or Fantastic Four comics. It's a great introduction to the FF for my kids. They've each marveled at some of the wonderful, mind-blowing Kirby art inside.