‘Revisiting sizzling hits from 50 years ago’
Maybe it has something to do with going to Dude Man’s 50th college reunion (Class of ’74) back in June. Or maybe it’s just because those summers in the seventies produced such revisitable stuff.
Starting the summer with a seventies bang: with old college cronies at Dude Man’s 50th reunion
Whatever the reason, I’ve pushed Alice Munro to the side for the time being and am devoting myself to art of a somewhat more accessible type. (Not that Alice isn’t eminently accessible; she even wrote some of her best stuff in the seventies; dip into “Something I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You, her book from 1974 and see what I mean.) Alice is my Summer Project, where I read a good biography of a writer I like and read (or re-read) his/her works as they are mentioned. (Trust me, Folks. This is the only way to make sense of Edith Wharton writing Ethan Frome.)
Iris was a good subject, tho she wrote waaaaay too many books to reread them all
But nothing Alice wrote featured marauding sharks. I’m talking Jaws here, folks. Both the book and the movie. The book came out 50 years ago, and the movie the year after. I’ve seen the movie regularly every summer for, well, ages. (Note: there is nothing more satisfying than introducing a new person to Jaws. Kristy and Spencer, I’m talking to you!) But I can’t remember reading the book (?!) so I ordered it and started on it a few minutes ago, tearing myself away just long enough to write this summery piece. (It won’t be a long piece; Chrissy’s body has just been discovered — or part of it anyway — tangled in seaweed.)
I couldn’t find my old paperback of Jaws. Which makes me wonder if I ever did read it (?) Anyway. I got this 50th Anniversary Edition. Goodie
This Seventies blockbuster fixation started earlier this week when I was tidying a guest room. There on top of a stack of guestroom-worthy paperbacks was “The Stepford Wives.” It was a copy that was getting a bit smelly and shopworn as paperbacks near the ocean tend to do. (I know I know. Braggety-brag brag brag. I’m by the ocean!) I almost threw it out, but instead sat down and started to read. A few hours later I came up for air. Then that night I watched the movie, which was the nineties version. And I am so sorry, Nicole and Glenn and Bette, that movie was so awful I immediately watched the good version. Which was from 1975 (!) and featured Katharine Ross and Paula Prentiss. I am telling you, this movie is good. So good that when it was over I had to crunch down half a valium in order to calm down enough to go to sleep.
This book was not too stinky to reread. So I did. The 2004 movie was stinky enough
Well. And last night it was “Diary of a Mad Housewife,” with Richard How-About-A-Roll-in-the-Hay Benjamin and the late lamented Carrie Snodgress. A hot young Frank Langella is in it too. What’s not to like? I was dying to read the book, too, but the paperback was waaay too smelly. So, yup, I ordered a new one.
Good thing this photo isn’t scratch ‘n sniff
Oh — and after I watched “Diary,” I watched “American Graffiti.” Which is a movie made in the seventies about kids in the sixties. And why not? It’s summer. Oh! Before I forget. That photo at the top of this post? Another sizzling seventies memory (Southern Illinois in August!): a shot from my first wedding in 1972.
Enjoy these summer days no matter what you’re up to — I’ll be back next week, unless I’m gobbled up by a shark (unlikely) or suffocated by a smelly paperback (much more likely).
Amagansett, New York. July 2024