Sinatra: The Life, by Anthony Summers and Robbyn Swan

The last two books I’ve read both had Sinatra as a character. The first depicted Frank as so connected to the mob he could order a hit on a high school student for simply implying Sinatra donated money to Julliard. (Did I mention this was a pretty stupid book?) The second referred to Frank as The Voice; the author’s father was a disc jockey and when he abandoned his family the kid used Sinatra as a surrogate voice on the radio. In any case, after reading about Old Blue Eyes in two books in a row I decided to do a bit more research on him.

I read the Kitty Kelley book back in high school but don’t really remember much about it so I hit the library to see what they had. Not surprisingly there were a bunch of choices, so I picked the latest one. It was really interesting, concentrating on Sinatra’s various relationships with friends and lovers and his mafia connections. With the benefit of more recent memoirs (and legal testimony) and the fact that many of the then-players are deceased, more and more facts are coming to light about what has long been only rumored. The old adage says where there is smoke there is fire, and it appears that it is true here: Sinatra was as mobbed-up as his detractors have always maintained. Sam Giancana and Lucky Luciano are two of the best known mafiosos, but far from the only ones with whom he was friendly. His addiction to Ava Gardner is also well documented, but I’d always heard that Sinatra and George C. Scott had a feud of sorts over Ava (I believe Scott abused her and Sinatra tried to stop him) but there was nothing of that here.

Of course, you can’t talk about Sinatra without discussing music. The Frank revealed here is a man with a passion for crafting beautiful harmonies. I love his work with Riddle but it was hard to just read about it and get any real appreciation for his talent. (I found myself listening to a lot of Frank while reading this—A Swingin’ Affair! is by far my favorite album, every track is a solid winner.) Some of the stories around the songs were interesting, though; for instance New York, New York and My Way are two of his signature songs, but he didn’t actually like either one. Luckily for us, he decided to record them anyway!

First Sentence:

March 18, 1939. In a studio on West 46th Street in New York City, a band was playing Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee.”

The Tender Bar, by J.R. Moehringer

I picked this up on a whim and am very glad I did. This was an intoxicating read (forgive the pun), the story of how a boy grew up with the dysfunctional patrons of a bar as father figures. His father left him at a young age, and as he grew up he increasingly turned to his uncle, a bartender, as a mentor and role-model. Spending time with his uncle meant spending time in the bar, and eventually he found himself drinking at the bar every night. There are no apologies, no excuses, and no sermons about the evils of drink; just a straightforward account of how the author became an alcoholic.

I liked this book for several reasons. First and foremost, the style is that of a guy telling a story at, well, a bar. Every character is a real character, every action a bit over-the-top, every story seeming just a bit embellished. It is a comfortable story, even when the topics being discussed are not. The author doesn’t apologize for his drinking or preach about how he quit. He presents the choices he made and why he made them, leaving the lessons learned as an exercise for the reader. I found this a powerful technique; this book got me thinking about my drinking habits much more than one telling me about the wonders of sobriety ever would.

My favorite quote (out of many great choices): “Every bar has some affinity for boxing, because drinkers and boxers sit on stools and feel woozy and measure time in rounds.” I’m not a huge fan of boxing, but virtually every fight I’ve seen has been in a bar surrounded by other casual fans. I’m reminded particularly of the 1996 Tyson-Seldon fight, the one that lasted about 90 seconds. I was in Lubbock and the Longhorns had just beat the Red Raiders in football. After the game we hit a bar near campus and at first the locals were not to thrilled to see a group of people wearing burnt orange. When the fights started later that night, though, instant camaraderie. Good times.

First Sentence:

If a man can chart with any accuracy his evolution from small boy to barfly, mine began on a hot summer night in 1972.

How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater, by Marc Acito

This is an odd book: I found myself admiring it and hating it at the same time. It is billed as the humorous story of how a kid tricked his father into paying his tuition to Julliard. Sounded amusing, but started really slow. It took the first third of the book to get to the point where tuition is denied; a lot of setup for a weak payoff. It came off as a young adult book: the protagonists are all teenagers and the subject is a coming-of-age story. However, the language and strong sexual content was extremely inappropriate for that age; many scenes are nothing more than fairly explicit porn with a strong homoerotic flavor. Forever by Judy Blume handles this topic in a mature and professional way, but Acito seems to prefer Hustler as a model.

The hero, Ed Zanni, is a self-important, pretentious, eccentric thespian—exactly the image I have in my head of an actor. His incessant whining (while ringing true for an irresponsible high school senior) was thoroughly unenjoyable. I can’t remember the last time I rolled my eyes so much when reading a book. The rest of the cast were all one-dimensional caricatures, The Breakfast Club gone horribly wrong.

That said, the imagery was fantastic: “a voice so warm and pure you want to take a bath in it.” (Oddly the author uses the same phrase later to describe sex.) Another phrase I liked: “Pairs of shoes should be like pairs of people. They should complement one another, not match.” While not very practical, it cemented the offbeat nature of the described character.

Coupled with my love of theater (I respect acting, but don’t have much in common with actors) and the fun phrases I was able to finish this fairly quickly, but I don’t think I’d recommend it.

First Sentence:

The story of how I paid for college begins like life itself—in a pool of water.

The Magnificent Ambersons, by Booth Tarkington

This novel is set at the beginning of the twentieth century, a time when the automobile and electricity were radically transforming the country. As the benefits of the new technologies enhance the lives of most people, the Amberson family refuses to accept change and spirals down to unimportance. The dawn of a new era as viewed through the eyes of the old guard, a fascinating juxtaposition.

I was surprised how compelling of a read this was considering the main character is completely unlikeable. George Amberson is a third generation rich kid, as pompus and spoiled as the day is long. He behaves so badly the townspeople talk openly of wishing he gets what is coming to him, and the author had me wishing the same thing. When George finally gets his comeuppance, we’ve seen him destroy so many other lives it is hard to feel either sympathy or satisfaction. Tarkington doesn’t tie up all the loose ends and the conclusion is bittersweet at best. In a lot of ways, this makes the story much more honest than many I’ve read.

First Sentence:

Major Amberson had “made a fortune” in 1873, when other people were losing fortunes, and the magnificence of the Ambersons began then.

A Hot and Sultry Night for Crime, edited by Jeffery Deaver

This collection of mysteries was much better than other anthologies I’ve read lately. Only one story was a dud, War Crimes by G. Miki Hayden, about a judge that had a dark past in a POW camp. Twist endings abound, many of which are truly surprising. Ninety-eight Point Six by Jeffery Deaver was the best of a good bunch, a tale about an escaped convict that keeps you guessing about the main character until the very end. The only bad thing about it was that it lead off the collection; I’d have put it at the end so the entire book acted as a crescendo. Regardless, good stuff here.

First Sentence from the Introduction:

What is there about heat and crime?