Eccentric, Adaptable, Indomitable
I’ve never been able to watch more than a few minutes of either film adaptation of Mame, but I ate up the novel Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade by Patrick Dennis. Not only is the story fun, the writing is first rate, smooth as butter, slowed only by brief, amusing instances devoted to southern drawl and cockney. The central character is a whirlwind who has a heart of gold — eccentric, adaptable and indomitable. The author’s wit is biting, his characterizations broad, perhaps a bit unfair at times, but entertaining. The first edition of the novel spent 112 weeks on the bestseller list, selling more than two million copies in five different languages. In 1956 Dennis became the first writer to have three books on the New York Times bestseller list at the same time (Auntie Mame, The Loving Couple: His (and Her) Story, and Guestward Ho!). His work fell out of fashion in the ‘70’s, and all of his books went out of print. In his later years, he left writing to become a butler. In all, he wrote 16 books, four under a pseudonym. Actually, all were under a pseudonym, given that his name at birth was Edward Everett Tanner III. The 1956 Broadway production of Auntie Mame, starring Rosalind Russell, and the highly successful 1958 screen adaptation that followed, inspired Jerry Herman’s 1966 musical Mame, with Angela Lansbury in the lead. The 1974 film version starred Lucille Ball and Bea Arthur. Dennis’ novel Little Me was turned into a musical in 1962 and has been revived several times. House Party was the inspiration for the TV series The Pruitts of Southampton (1966–67), starring Phyllis Diller, Grady Sutton, Gypsy Rose Lee and Richard Deacon. Guestward Ho! became a sitcom (1960–61), starring Mark Miller, J. Carrol Naish and Joanne Dru. Dennis succumbed to pancreatic cancer at 55 in 1975. There has been a resurgence of interest in his work. The large paperback edition I read was issued in 2002. Its 292 pages read like considerably less. It may have been risque back in the day, but time has rendered it mild. Time has not taken away the fun. 463 users at Amazon have rated it, forging to a consensus of 4.6 on a scale of five. I wouldn’t go nearly that high, but I really enjoyed it. I’m tempted to add the Rosalind Russell version to my Netflix list. (Facts from Wiki & IMDb)
Speaking of eccentric, adaptable, indomitable — the left believes the revelations in Bob Woodward’s new book have finally done in the President. Just days ago it was another book by Michael Cohen, which was quickly shunted aside. Woodward is such a patriot that he sat on the info for six months rather than relay it to the American people. The filthy lucre the exclusive brought him was more important than the safety of the citizens he claims Trump neglected.
The NFL season is about to begin. I haven’t been watching the games the past two seasons, preferring youtube highlights. Now I’m considering total abandonment except, if there’s a party, for the Super Bowl. The league’s front office is despicable and many of the players are thugs not interested in social justice but free reign. I don’t watch any of the other big three sports, so I’m not quite sure why this seems harder.
A friend emailed me a bunch of amusing statements on aging. Here’s the one I liked best:
Expecting precipitation, I put out only Russian books at first, then, two hours later, mostly non-fiction. It has yet to rain. Had I but known. My thanks to the woman who bought five hardcovers in her first language, and to Ira, who purchased two books on buying condos. A retired tailor, he bought his co-op just before the market crashed and has been underwater ever since. His second wife, who’s on her annual jaunt to Russia, makes matters worse. Today he revealed she has a nervous condition that leads her to hitting him. My suspicion has always been that she married not for love but to sponge. Ira loves collectibles. She wants to throw all of his out, which would be a sort of emasculation. I feel guilty whenever I sense he buys simply to be nice to me. I never charge him more than a buck per book. If anyone deserves to hit the lottery, it’s him.
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