Sometimes it's fun to wallow in trash. Dominick Dunne's
Another City, Not My Own provides a fine opportunity to do so. It's his version of the OJ trial, presented as a novel. At times this format bothered me. Dominick Dunne appears as a character named Gus, who is reporting on the OJ trial for
Vanity Fair, which is of course what Mr. Dunne did. At the end of the book his reason for the choice of the non-novel format became obvious when Gus/Dunne/the narrator is killed.
All in all, the book was readable. Stuff:
1) The biggest turnoff, IMHO, was Dunne's incessant name dropping. If there was any chance the reader wouldn't know who he was talking about, he would identify the person—along with who his mother and father were, their children, what motion pictures or television shows they had produced, directed, or starred in, and in what upscale residential area they lived. Incidentally, the worst name dropping occurred during a frequently used (by which I mean in many novels) subplot, which whenever it shows up pulls me out of whatever I'm reading. Gus—I don't know about Dominic Dunne personally—has an ex-wife who has MS. Name dropping and MS converged when one of Dominic's sons was lost in a hiking accident. For four days police searched for him, and during that time Dominic and his other son debated telling their mother about their worries. Finally Dominic decides to, and there's an overly dramatic scene at her bedside. She's lying there paralyzed, and in one paragraph which lasts four pages he talks about everyone they had known in their life—all the parties they had been to and all the but places they had gone. Somewhere in the middle of the marathon paragraph he tells her that their son is missing but, hopefully, not dead. All of you, please know if I'm ever bedridden and you need to tell me something, just do it. Don't bother me with four pages of babel. Another thing I kept thinking during these pages was that William Faulkner can bring off a multi-page paragraph and make it close to readable; Dominick Dunne can't.
2) "You'd be surprised at how much input OJ has the strategy of his defense. Just because he spelled his kid's name wrong in the suicide note, don't ever mistake this guy for a dummy." ( page 145) I'm having trouble with this one because one book I read years ago printed a note that he sent to the defense where he spelled start "starte." Maybe to Dominick Dunne OJ seemed smart. I'm not convinced.
3) At one point someone refers to some trouble Dominick Dunne had with Frank Sinatra. Apparently Sinatra had at some party walked up and slugged Dominick Dunne . In this book he refers to never understanding why. The word "toadie" came frequently to mind while reading this book, and I can understand Sinitra's dislike.
4) Another annoying trait in which Dominick Dunne indulges is overwriting. At one point in the book he meets Princess Diana. She comes up to him and says, "'Don't tell me they've let you out of the trial!" He adds "acknowledging in that sentence who he was and what he did for a living." (page 205) Mr. Dunn, we don't need the explanation. It's completely obvious through what she said.
5) Another problem with overwriting is that sometimes it can insult the intelligence of the reader. "Barbara Sinatra was a stunning, witty blond who Guy had met years before on a yacht in Acapulco when she was married to Zeppo Marx, one of the Marx Brothers." ( page 188) Is that last phrase really needed? Are there are dozens of Zeppos running around Hollywood?
6) Another rather disconcerting device Dominick Dunne users is when Guy comments on how a certain person will show up in the novel he's planning on writing, presumably the book I've just finished reading. Way too surreal for me. At least in this type of book.
7) Towards the end of the book Guy is asked why he thought that OJ ultimately won. He gave credit to Jo Ellen Demetrius, the woman who advised on jury selection, saying, "She understood the brilliance of stupidity." (page 314)
One word was unknown: vitrine. (Gee: word doesn't like it either. It's underlined in red.) "The book was on display in the vitrine." (page 39)
www.dictionary says, "a glass display case or cabinet for works of art, curios, etc." Guess neither word nor I am hanging out at museums enough.
Recommend? Nah. Too much has already been written and read about that trial. Why continue to give it publicity?
So, why did I read it? I've read some things about and by Dominick Dunne, none of them terribly impressive, but I was curious about his take on the trial. I imagine it's the last Dominick Dunne I'll read.
