A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
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A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
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A New York Times Bestselling Author Julie Crawford leaves Fort Wayne, Indiana, for Hollywood with dreams of becoming a screenwriter, and lands a job in the publicity office of notoriously demanding producer David O. Selznick. On the set of Gone with the Wind, she has a front-row seat to two of the greatest love affairs of all time: the onscreen chemistry between Scarlett and Rhett, and the deepening love between Carole and Clark. Yet things in Hollywood are never quite what they seem.
A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott - Amazon Sales Rank: #2306868 in Books
- Brand: Thorndike Press Large Print
- Published on: 2015-03-04
- Format: Large Print
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: .99" h x 6.16" w x 8.34" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 483 pages
A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott Review
“If you could time-travel to anywhere in the golden age of Hollywood, it would be hard to imagine a place more exciting than the set of Gone with the Wind. . . . [A] breathtaking novel.” —The New York Times Book Review “Sparkles with the magic of classic moviemaking.” —Sarah McCoy, author of The Baker's Daughter “Simply enjoyable. . . . Alcott’s depiction of the earthy, expletive-spewing Lombard reads just right.” —Daily News“Enticing. . . . Gets just close enough to the glamour to . . . put a twinkle in your eye.” —The Austin Chronicle“This lively read with its cinematic scenes cries out for blockbuster movie treatment.” —Toronto Star “Historical figures become intricate characters in Alcott’s hands.” —Seattle Post-Intelligencer “Readers of Nancy Horan’s Loving Frank and other biographical fiction will love this well-written, thoroughly researched look at Hollywood's glamorous and not-so-glamorous past.” —Library Journal (starred review)“Well worth reading.” —Historical Novel Society “[A] stellar historical novel. . . . A terrific tribute to the industry pioneers.” —Booklist“Alcott is a splendid storyteller.” —RT Book Reviews “Powerful and charming.” —Curled Up With a Good Book“Well-crafted commercial fiction displaying intelligence and nuance.” —Kirkus Reviews
About the Author
KATE ALCOTT is the pseudonym for journalist Patricia O’Brien, who has written several books, both fiction and nonfiction. As Kate Alcott, she is the New York Times bestselling author of The Dressmaker and The Daring Ladies of Lowell. She lives in Washington, D.C. The many stories shared by her late husband, Frank Mankiewicz, who grew up in a legendary film family, helped her bring Old Hollywood to life.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER 4 January 26, 1939 "Nothing nervous about this happy crowd, I’d say,” murmured Doris, surveying the field where she and dozens of others stood waiting. Her speech had its usual cynical tone, delivered with a roll of the eyes and a wry, impatient twist of the mouth—not quite a smirk. It occurred to Julie that Doris sounded a little too much like the wisecracking, flip Rosalind Russell. Maybe it wasn’t just coincidence. Lots of girls here were walking around emulating some star they wished they could be. Why not tough, sexy Doris? Thinking about it made her less intimidating, if not more likable.Still, she was right. A roll of jittery chatter was threading through the huddled crowd of people on the edge of the Back Forty.Selznick had invited everybody who worked at the studio to watch the “festivities” of the first day of shooting, a word that had produced a fair number of snickers among those who knew how fraught with problems this venture was. You could see it in the director George Cukor’s rigid stance. He held himself immobile in the restless crowd, arms folded, a set expression on his face.Julie scanned the crowd, trying to pick out the critics and journalists, several of whom looked enlivened by the prospect for disas- ter. It wasn’t hard to recognize the columnist Hedda Hopper. She had the alert, bright-eyed face of a parrot as she darted here and there; her lips were heavy with bright-red lipstick; her eyes—lined in black makeup that looked as permanent as cement—missing nothing, peering out from under a flamboyantly feathered hat.“Look at her glare at Louella,” Doris said, amused. “Probably thinks she muscled herself in to get a better spot for watching the filming. She’ll have something to say about that in tomorrow’s column. Those two could kill each other.”Julie’s gaze turned to Louella Parsons. By contrast, she looked like a proper matron heading for a proper afternoon tea. She was much shorter than Hedda, her plump body encased in something made of heavy, dark wool with glittering no-nonsense gold buttons the size of Ping-Pong balls. Her face was set on dignified affability, but her eyes looked like small rocks.Julie knew this was the one to watch. Louella had hinted in her column today that the careers of several important people working on Gone with the Wind were about to be destroyed. It was a tantalizing, airy warning, meant to send shivers down the back of anyone who tried to withhold a scoop from her.So that was in the buzz circulating through the crowd—who was at risk?And, Lord, there was the script. Everyone knew that was a disaster. Andy had said it was literally a mountain of paper with colored tabs marking the contributions of dozens of writers. The rumor going through the crowd was that Selznick was bringing in Ben Hecht for yet another rewrite. And what about the noises from the Screen Writers Guild? Were they really going to announce a strike?And on it went. The less prominent reporters strained to hear it all, looking like fluttering crows as they hovered close to the cam- eras, trying to eavesdrop on Selznick’s instructions to the crew.Suddenly there was a furious shout.“Look, there’s Gable,” Rose whispered. “What now?”An angry-looking Clark Gable, jacket flapping, came striding toward Selznick, ignoring everyone in his path. “Those signs come down now,” he shouted.“What signs?” Selznick said, obviously startled.Gable pointed to a nearby knoll where a long line of portable toilets stood ready. The usual necessity for movies shot with hun- dreds of extras, they had been placed a distance from the cameras, winding down the knoll like dominoes in a row. They were painted a dull green, a color that discreetly blended into the landscape.Except for the signs.In large block letters, they declared their instructions on each toilet: white only, read the first one; negro only, read the second. And on down the line, the declaration instructions repeated in calm symmetry.“Where’s the property manager?” Gable demanded. “David, I’m off this movie if those signs don’t come down.”Selznick stared—and swore. He threw down the clipboard in his hands. A confused silence fell on the crowd.“Who the hell put those up?” he yelled. His face was almost purple. “We’re not in the Deep South, we’re in Culver City, California!” The reporters were scribbling fast, and the photographers were scrambling to take pictures of the toilets. In the jostling for position, Hedda lost her hat and sputtered in outrage. The “festivities” had taken an unexpected turn.All Julie could think was, how could it be that no one had noticed? Cukor jumped into action. “I don’t know who authorized that,but yank ’em down,” he ordered a maintenance crewman. “Right now, before one foot of film is shot.” He cast a quick look at Gable. “Thanks, Clark,” he said.Julie now saw a small cluster of extras dressed as slaves standing to the side. As she learned later, one of them had gone up to Gable’s dressing room, knocked on the door, and asked him to intervene. This surely took courage.“They’re no dumbbells,” Doris chortled, nodding at the group. “They know Selznick can’t fire them and replace them with Mexicans—not for this movie.”“Okay, folks,” shouted Selznick through a bullhorn. “We’ve got that stupidity corrected; now let’s get on with making a movie.” Julie craned to see Andy. She caught a glimpse of him staring at the scene as the signs were ripped down, a slight smile on his face. He saw her and gave a quick thumbs-up. Then he was back in conversation with the lighting crew, checking his clipboard, calling for the sound people. It was fun to watch him. He moved so easily, genially, talking to someone, scribbling a reply to a message, joking with the messenger, listening intently—and making it all look so relaxed.Gable stayed briefly in place, the fury on his face fading into a kind of vague puzzlement, as if he wondered where he was. He had made no secret that he would not hang around for filming Gone with the Wind’s inaugural scene. Then, frowning, he turned on his heel and strode back to his dressing room.“Julie honey, David’s got one reluctant Rhett Butler, and he’ll stay away as much as he can,” Carole had said with a sigh earlier that morning.Selznick’s shouted order accelerated everything. Cameramen were wheeling their cameras into place. Gaffers raced about check- ing electrical equipment; soundmen adjusted their instruments; sec- retaries were scribbling notes and running errands.Julie went on tiptoe, peering at Tara. The first scene to be shot would be the opening one of the movie. Scarlett was to sit on the steps of her grand Southern home, flirting with two of her swains. She was to pout when they spoiled the mood by telling her that war was coming—and they were enlisting.Vivien Leigh, escorted by George Cukor, was already draping herself carefully on the steps of Tara. He held her hand, gently mov- ing her into position. She leaned her head back against a pillar, lis- tening to his soothing words, giving small, birdlike nods of assent. A makeup person armed with a soft powdered brush, intent on reduc- ing the shine from the lights on Vivien Leigh’s face, dabbed at the actress’s nose. A wardrobe assistant fussed over her flowered muslin gown, fluffing the rich folds of material and spreading them wide. “I can’t breathe in this corset,” Leigh complained loudly, but no one was paying attention.Finally, all was ready.“Quiet on set!” a production assistant bellowed. Looking quite solemn, he lifted a black-and-white clapperboard high. On it was scrawled in chalk:SCENE ONE, TAKE ONE—GONE WITH THE WINDHe clapped the boards together, producing a sharp, commanding sound that brought immediate quiet. Gone with the Wind was about to be brought to life. Up the gravel path, across the green lawn, the cameras travel to Tara. Scarlett sits framed beautifully on the graceful porch. Her voice is deli- ciously lilting and teasing as she begins flirting with the Tarleton twins, scolding them for their talk of war. Vivien Leigh—with her boredom and corset complaints—has disappeared. Scarlett O’Hara is sitting there now. To Julie, all seemed perfect. To be drawn into this scene so quickly, in a way that was both the same as and yet different from when she burrowed into Margaret Mitchell’s magical book, was enthralling. The colors, the clothes, the mood—“Cut!” Selznick barked.Cukor glanced at Selznick in astonishment. His usual amiable smile vanished. A producer didn’t issue orders on the set: that was the job and prerogative of the director. “What’s wrong?” he said. “The scene was perfect.”Selznick shoved his hands into his pockets and strode up to the waiting actors, frowning. “The dress isn’t right,” he said to Cukor, pulling one hand out of his pocket and flipping disdainfully at a sleeve of Scarlett’s gorgeous gown. “Call Wardrobe. I want her to wear pure white—not the same damn dress she wears to the barbecue. That’s not acceptable.”The crowd of workers and onlookers froze.Cukor responded levelly, but the strain showed. “David, that’s wholly unnecessary,” he said.“I’m sorry, George. That’s how I want it.” It was Selznick’s flat-as-stone voice, the one no one dared question.“You want to stop production for a dress?” Cukor said incredulously.“Get Wardrobe on it,” Selznick said, then walked away before Cukor could respond. The director stood frozen.“So much for the celebratory first day of shooting,” said Doris in a low voice. Even she couldn’t manage her usual sardonic tone.“All the equipment, the people, everything,” Julie said in surprise. “Everybody packs up?”“Everybody except Cukor. He’s going to need some time to get his pride back. Selznick’s making it pretty clear already what he’s after.”“What’s that?”Doris’s eyes conveyed more than just a tinge of superiority. “Julie, Cukor’s the director, not Selznick. He’s the one who usually makes calls like this one. Selznick is obviously ignoring him. Setting him up.”“Setting him up for what?”Doris shrugged and turned to leave. “You’ll see. Better hurry on back to Lombard’s dressing room with news of Gable’s defense of the working Negro. If she doesn’t send you off to some zoo to rent an old lion, maybe you’ll be able to pick up gossip for the rest of us. Something spicy.”“Working for Lombard is better than the mimeograph room,” Rose said loyally.“Oh, please. Work? For Lombard?”The two women watched Doris walk away, her long legs drawing glances from the men she passed.“Not a wrinkle in those silk stockings, and the seams are perfectly straight. I think we’re entitled to hate her,” Rose murmured.Julie laughed, feeling better. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about becoming friends with her,” she said. *Andy joined Julie briefly in the commissary at lunchtime. Gloomy, he chomped away on a turkey-and-cheese sandwich, barely speaking, to the point where she pushed back her coffee and started thinking about going back to answering Carole’s mail. She was get- ting good at copying the actress’s signature—and if there were any mangy lions needed in the future, she would recommend Doris for the job.“I’m meeting a friend for dinner tomorrow,” he said abruptly. “A novelist.”“Anyone I would recognize?”“Maybe. Scott Fitzgerald. He’s working on the script.” “I thought Ben Hecht—”“Yep, him, too. Everybody. Even though Sidney Howard did a great preliminary job.”“I’ve read The Great Gatsby,” she said.His face relaxed for a moment into a faint smile. “I should’ve known you’d be a woman who actually reads. Pretty rare out here.”“I can spell, too. Better than Fitzgerald.”He laughed this time. “God, a college girl. I must be out of my mind.”“Do you think he can help with the script?”“He’s got some good ideas. Thinks we should use as much of Margaret Mitchell’s dialogue as possible, but cut a lot of the redun- dant material. Selznick is resisting, naturally.” Andy sighed. “I don’t know what Scott’s doing out here,” he said. “He’s got real talent, if he’d control his drinking. He should be writing novels, far from Hollywood. No reason for him to sell out.” * The next day’s shoot went well, even though Julie heard that Scar- lett’s hastily constructed white dress had to be held in place with clothespins at first and Miss Edith Head’s seamstresses would sew it up in back between takes. Julie had hoped to watch, but at Carole’s request, she worked that day from Carole’s Bel-Air home on Cloud Road. Here she would have a respectable-sized office to handle publicity and secretarial work when Carole didn’t need her on the Selznick lot. There was plenty to do, but Julie feared life would be far less exciting.That was before a studio messenger showed up at the door at lunchtime with a package for Gable from David Selznick.Julie accepted the package and held it out to Gable as he came in through the back door, his trousers muddied from working in the garden he and Carole were trying to nourish.“What the hell is this?” he said, puzzled, when she handed him the package. “Kind of heavy.” Absently, he tossed a trowel he’d been carrying onto a sleekly immaculate beige sofa. Julie picked it up quickly as he took the package into the dining room.Silence at first. Then a barrage of curses, which brought Carole hurrying to his side.“Selznick is crazy,” he sputtered, showing Carole the contents of the package. “Ninety-two pages of instructions on how he wants me to play Rhett Butler. What kind of maniacal character is he?”He paced, looking worn. “He doesn’t trust me to play this stupid part,” he said.“He’s not the director—” began Carole.“Cukor? He’s worse,” Gable snapped. He began clawing through his pockets, pulled out a wrinkled cigarette pack, and rescued the last one. He crushed the empty pack into a ball and threw it at an ashtray. He missed.Carole handed him a lighter, the silver one he had given her as a birthday gift.“He’ll lavish attention on Vivien—I can see that already,” he said, inhaling deeply. “Look, it’s obvious. The man’s a fag, and I don’t like fags, and I’m never going to like him. Selznick knows that.”He said the word so flatly. Of course, plenty of people felt the same way, but Julie couldn’t help remembering this was the same man who spoke up for the Negro extras yesterday.“You’re not going to pull out of the movie,” Carole said quietly.“You haven’t even done your first scene yet.”“Presenting Scarlett with a fancy Paris hat,” he scoffed. “There are probably ten pages in this crap devoted to how David wants it done.” Suddenly he seemed more weary than angry. “This isn’t my type of part, Ma,” he said.“Okay, tell me the worst. Wait—let me guess. Leaning forward and finding your costume is cut too tight in the crotch?” she teased.He smiled reluctantly. An almost sweet smile out of that hand- some, clouded face. “Okay, Ma. But I’m still complaining.” * “Dinner on Saturday next week? Somewhere special.”Andy was calling on the rooming-house phone. It was after mid- night, and Julie had been summoned from bed in her pajamas by a somewhat cross and sleepy fellow resident. Yet, even at this late hour, his voice lifted her spirits.“Why are you calling so late?” she asked. “Anything wrong?” “Just rolled home after my evening with Scott,” he said. His voice was relaxed.“I hear today’s shoot went well.”“Yep, Edith Head can do anything. She whipped up a white gown in about three hours, and Selznick was placated. Even though he didn’t get as big an audience for the reshoot. What happened up in Bel-Air?”“Gable was furious when he got Selznick’s package of instructions for playing the part. The whole thing was over ninety pages; I could hardly believe it.”“That’s vintage Selznick. No matter, kid. He counts on Carole to calm his big star down, though he would never admit it. Anyway, Gable will be very happy pretty soon, I guarantee it.”“Why?” she asked.Andy chuckled. “Not telling you, not yet. Money buys everything, Miss Crawford. Loyalty, love—”“You can’t buy love.”“People do it all the time.”“They think they do, but that’s not what they’re buying,” she said quickly.The phone line hummed in the silence.“So don’t you want to know where we are going Saturday night?” he said finally.“I didn’t say I was free.” She smiled to herself. It was fun again;she liked this play of theirs.“Are you free, Miss Crawford?”“Yes,” she said, yawning. “Where are we going?”“To the home of a very classy writer. Herman Mankiewicz.” * Julie collected a heavy satchel of fan mail from Publicity a few days later and stopped back at Carole’s dressing room, where, as usual, the actress was talking on the phone nonstop. Julie picked up a stack of already autographed pictures. They were of a smoky-eyed Carole offering the camera a lazy smile, a very popular pose with her public. Julie began stuffing them in envelopes and addressing them to the eager fans who had written the actress; she got dozens of letters a day. Easier to do it here and mail them quickly, Julie decided.She was halfway through when the door was suddenly pushed open with such force the trailer shook.“Ma, we got it.” Gable’s familiar baritone voice was actually trembling as he bounded in and slammed the door shut behind him. His eyes were wide open, like a child’s.Carole dropped a silver tube of lipstick to the floor and rushed forward. “Oh my God, she took the money?” she said breathlessly, her arms wide.He laughed, grabbing her shoulders. “It’s done,” he said, sounding stunned. “God, I can’t believe it; it’s actually done. Rhea took the extra fifty thousand.”“Whoopee!” Carole shouted. “My God, Pa, you’re almost free! How soon?”“Early March. She’s been in Vegas, waiting for the pot to sweeten.” His voice actually shook. He ran a hand through his thick hair, now all askew, not doing its essential job of hiding his ears.“So the extra cash Selznick got Mayer to dig up was finally enough.” Carole shook her head. “I never could fathom how a woman would keep hanging on when a man didn’t want her any- more. Well, this is a fair trade—you get the divorce, and David gets a less grumpy Rhett Butler.”“Hell, I’d even play a fairy if I had to,” he said huskily. He took Carole into his arms, his hand grazing the small of her back before gliding downward.Julie rattled a few papers to remind them of her presence, but they were oblivious. “Miss Lombard, I’ll come back later,” she said hurriedly, gathering up the stack of photos and fan letters, figuring she could finish them over at the publicity office. They seemed to have almost forgotten she was there.“Shut the door tight when you leave, honey,” Carole said with a giggle. She and Gable were already intertwined on the sofa. The actress thrust one long leg upward and began peeling off a stocking. “I’m really happy for you both,” Julie said, a bit flustered. She stepped out into the sunshine, pulling the door closed behind her, feeling she had somehow intruded on their obviously heartfelt delight. A fleeting thought startled her: had she doubted before? Maybe that wasn’t the right question. Could true feelings in Hollywood be explainable in Fort Wayne terms? She hurried up the path, past the commissary, the carpentry shop, the foundry, the studio florist; over there, to her left, was the upholstery shop where fabric was aged chemically to make the Gone with the Wind furniture as weath- ered as possible; behind that, the barber shop where stars like Clark Gable were cut and manicured every day into replicas of authentic- ity for the film. Wasn’t this real? What was she mulling all this over for anyway? Maybe there was some barrier—something ordinary people put up between themselves and celebrities that didn’tallow the celebrities to be real.It was such a bright, sunny day; the light was hurting her eyes.There was a harsh quality to L.A. sun on a winter afternoon. People said you ceased to notice it after a while, but it still bothered her. Maybe it was time to get a pair of sunglasses. She could imagine what her friends would say at home: the middle of winter and you need sunglasses? Only a few weeks ago, she was laughing at the idea herself—too stagey, she had proclaimed to Rose. But it didn’t seem that way anymore.
Where to Download A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
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20 of 21 people found the following review helpful. Insider's Hollywood By wogan `A Touch of Stardust' is a novel giving an insider's look into the Hollywood of the late 1930's, especially the making of `Gone with the Wind' and the marriage of Carole Lombard and Clark Gable. Much of it is based on fact and to Kate Alcott's credit she includes an epilogue that reveals some of what is true and what is fantasy in her story. That is always a helpful item in these types of novels.From the first page of the story we are rushed into the making of GWTW and into the spectacle of the burning of Atlanta - all before Scarlett O'Hara has even been cast. Julie Crawford has come to Hollywood from Fort Wayne, Indiana, the same hometown of Carole Lombard hoping to be a screenwriter. With her determination and some lucky breaks she winds up as the personal assistant and then friend of Carole Lombard and so we have that insider's view into not only GWTW and the marriage of 2 of Hollywood's stars, Carole and Clark, but what Hollywood is like during that time for women trying to make their way into the studio system.There are several dramas going on here that will keep a reader interested. The plot includes, of course, the making of GWTW and the marriage of Carole and Clark, but there is also the conflict in Europe and the beginnings of what will become WWII. Included in all of this are the prejudices that the `coloured' faced in Hollywood and in the premiere of GWTW in Atlanta even excluding 2 of the stars Butterfly McQueen and Hattie McDaniel, who later won an Oscar for her role, from many of the festivities in that city.At the core of the plot is Julie Crawford of Fort Wayne and her struggle to find her place, both in a profession and in love with Andy. He is part of the many members of the Jewish religion in that town - so there is also that conflict and bias that plays in the storyline.There is much in this novel that a reader could learn about the motion picture industry and the climate of the time. Those who are interested in Hollywood, `Gone with the Wind' and all the conflicts and struggles and strifes involved might enjoy reading this book.
15 of 17 people found the following review helpful. Frankly, my dear, I love this book By Kristin J. Johnson I love old Hollywood, I love Gone With the Wind (and saw an "American Masters" program on PBS that detailed Margaret Mitchell's odyssey in writing it and bringing it to the silver screen, including some of the travails this book covers), love stories, and especially tales about scriptwriting. I prefer "Saving Mr. Banks" and "Adaptation" to "Sunset Boulevard" and "The Player". This book has elements of both...the real and the reel.The first line sucks you into Los Angeles 1938 and keeps you enraptured until the last final reel-and-real page: "Atlanta was exploding right on schedule." So begins the story of Indiana-born screenwriting hopeful Julie Crawford. It's also the story of the making of "Gone With the Wind" and of the love between Carole Lombard and Clark "Rhett Butler" Gable, in a time when Hollywood still had strict morality clauses and agents to carry them out, intruding into Carole Lombard's life by asking the date of her menstrual cycle, all of it on the QT--compare that with today's kerfuffle over actress Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting saying that she enjoys serving her husband (dinner) five nights a week, or anything Charlie Sheen.Andy, one of the immense GWTW army, tells the feisty "babe in the woods" Julie, after an early meet cute with Carole Lombard, "Meeting her was a stroke of luck for you...She's actually quite an innovator--one of the first to avoid getting her head chopped off by the studio heads for living in scandal." Carole and Clark Gable are "shacking up" while his wife refuses to give him a divorce. Despite Julie's staid upbringing (an a father who thinks his daughter dating a Jew, Andy to be exact, is just as scandalous as Hollywood), she becomes Carole's assistant and close friend, even impressing her parents with this during a surprise visit from the Crawford elders (a scene in which Clark Gable and Julie's father bond over false teeth and cooking steak is funny and touching).The outrageous and wise Carole is Joan Rivers-esque in her bluntness and one-liners. "You're not a bad egg," she tells the studio morality checker. "Thanks for giving us a good laugh." To Clark on what the worst part of playing Rhett is: "Leaning forward and finding your costume is cut too tight in the crotch?" Clark is a good sport.The healthy reality of Clark and Carole's relationship contrasts with Julie's consuming passionate love affair with Andy, which in turn explicitly mirrors Scarlett O'Hara's delusional love for "the pretty clothes" she put on Ashley Wilkes (Kate Alcott brings alive the patriotic Brit and Ashley actor Leslie Howard, as well as Butterfly McQueen, Hattie McDaniel and Vivian Leigh--the latter frustrated because the studio wants to enhance her bust and moaning that the director hasn't read the book.) Also, in addition to the Civil War being recreated onscreen, there is impending war in Europe, which causes Andy, whose family in Germany faces death because of Hitler, to clash with Julie over whether their Hollywood creations matter. Julie, who works her way up as a screenwriter, is hurt and offended by the suggestion that her life's work is meaningless--a war between the lovers. Carole and Clark face their own conflict with Clark's wife. However, the overarching war is the fight to bring GWTW to the screen with Mitchell's vision intact. Louis B. Mayer, the head of MGM and producer David Selznick's father-in-law, states, "The public wants these two to end up in each other's arms, do you hear me? And so do I." (Spoiler alert: they don't.)Of course, Mayer means Rhett and Scarlett, but he may as well have been talking about Julie and Andy. Their relationship gets the same nuanced portrayal as Carole and Clark's, and the reader appreciates the dance between two strong-willed people. As Andy says, "Frankly, my dear, I fervently give a damn." Frankly, my dear, I love this book.
10 of 11 people found the following review helpful. Hollywood's "Golden" Age? By S. McGee Kate Alcott has a real knack for taking what could be a pretty basic romantic novel and turning it into something memorable, that sticks with me for months and even years. This is the third of her books that I've read, and I can still recall, vividly, The Dressmaker, which revolved around the sinking of the Titanic and its aftermath. Nothing about the plot was noticeably innovative or different, but Alcott somehow managed, by shifting the narrative voice and the focus of the story slightly, to make it vastly more interesting than most books of its kind are. I can't recall details of two-thirds of the novels I read that year; Alcott's has stuck with me and the same is true with her sophomore offering, The Daring Ladies of Lowell.Here, too, Alcott's take on Hollywood is fresh and lively. Instead of an ambitious starlet or a Hollywood personality, she chooses to tell the tale of the making of "Gone with the Wind" and, more broadly, of Hollywood at a crucial point in its evolution, by making her heroine, Julie Crawford, an aspiring screenwriter who has just graduated from Smith and headed to LA over the objections of her parents, affluent Midwesterners. Working for David Selznick's studio as he's filming the burning of Atlanta before even picking an actress to play Scarlett O'Hara, Julie has three encounters that will shape her life: Selznick is furious with her, a young man in his organization, Andy, who helps her out and soon becomes her boyfriend, and Carole Lombard, the feistily independent young actress, tolerated because sometimes only she can coax her fiancé, Clark Gable, into working with a director he dislikes or showing up at the Atlanta première of the film when its African-American stars are barred from attending.Julie's battle to achieve independence and Selznick's to complete his film are the parallel plots, and while both are interesting, ultimately it's Julie's struggle, and her choice of Carole as mentor and role model, that fascinates even more than the tale of that iconic Hollywood classic. While trying to avoid spoilers, I'll just add that I tremendously admired Alcott's ability to craft a deft ending to the story; one that acknowledged Andy's own multiple loyalties, didn't have to deal with the looming tragedies lying ahead for Gable and Lombard, and left me with a sense that while my glimpse into the characters' lives was over and the story somehow resolved, those lives would continue. The author is smart enough to know that a 1939/1940 "happy ever after" ending simply wouldn't fly -- and she didn't try to force it.Any novelist writing what is, when all is said and done, novels that are pure entertainment but that manage to stick in my memory weeks, months and even years after I've read them, deserves my attention and respect. In my case, at least, Kate Alcott has now scored a hat trick.
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A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
A Touch Of Stardust (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Kate Alcott
