Ava Gardener

"How could anyone look that good?"

Sometimes I'll read a book review in the New Yorker magazine that's so dense and satisfying it leaves me with no desire to get the actual book. Now that's fine writing.  I guess amateur writers are easily seduced by the New Yorker's smart, sophisticated, show-offy tone. That $80 a year subscription costs more than all our other magazines put together, but I like it as much for the clever writing as the actual content.

Out here in Lumberjack Land we can't take advantage of "Goings on About Town" in NYC or fight to get a reservation at the "Tables for Two" featured restaurant.  But that wild food review is the first thing I usually read, which is probably better than actually eating a $50 beef shin bone stuffed with snails and glazed with truffle extract. Or whatever...

Anyway, there's a new book out called "Ava Gardener: The Secret Conversations."  In 1988, Gardener was living in London, in poor health and running of money. She approached Peter Evans, an English journalist, and asked him for help with her memoirs. He worked with her for months and she gave him some juicy material before the 3 am "interviews" abruptly stopped.

It seems that Sinatra, still alive at the time, disliked the writer and thought she was revealing too much, so he may have paid her the equivalent of what she would have been paid for the memoir.  Evans died last year, before he could turn the manuscript into a book. With the blessing of her estate, these juicy Old Hollywood tidbits are now revealed.  If this is your cup of tea, looks like a good book.  Then again, you can always just read the New Yorker review in the August 26th issue.