"Full Service" by Scotty Bowers (2012)

The full title is "Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars" and this is exactly what it promises - memoirs of a ex-marine who worked on a gas station in Hollywood and provided discreet services to the whole world, including some of the biggest names in the movie industry. At the time of the publishing, Bowers himself was well in his 90s and most of his acquaintances were long gone so it probably felt safe to open this Pandora's box because after all, who's going to complain about dirt on post-war Hollywood. And to be honest, at this point it's not a secret anymore that many of the celebrities lived double life, with studio's tactful approval, as long as they kept it far from media. Even thought many of his spicy stories seems like exaggeration (after all, who can either prove or disprove what xyz liked in the bedroom?) it must be noted that Bowers knows in a tiny detail a lot about celebrities houses, the interiors, roads, what cars they drove, etc. And yes, he is prominently mention in research by Alfred Kinsey  so it appears he was around at the time - its up to a reader to decide how much of this is true. 

There were two slight objections that kept on nagging me and I just couldn't shake it off:

- Bowers claims everything happened spontaneously simply because he was a good looking ex marine and was working on the gas station, when Hollywood producers and such would request his sexual services. One thing led to another and before you know it, he was connecting clients with available soldiers/sailors/girls - but he insist this was all for the sake of fun and he never ever took any money for this. In fact, he was just making everybody happy and making a world a better place. 

Than he proceeds to describe how for the next several decades he was extremely busy doing this while at the same time he was working as a bartender all around private parties in Hollywood. I don't want to sound cynical or nitpicking but please, investing so much time to do what is basically pimping and claiming it was not for money ... it just doesn't sound true. 

- Bowers obviously loved sex and affectionately describes every single occasion, where, how, with whom and how many people were involved. This made me stop a little bit and wonder was there not anything else in his life important remembering - he casually mentions wife and daughter, than goes back to orgies with celebrities - not to be too fussy, but what kind of person memorises zillion sexual encounters in a detail? Even as we read this, everything eventually blurs into a exhausting list of conquests - so much that a halfway trough I put it down and left to simmer for a while, unsure is this really worth continuing. 

My problem with this book was that it felt as a one-trick-pony. Once you get over the introduction and initial thrill of "dirty secrets", the gimmick wears off and its just never ending list of erotic encounters where author brags about celebrities that he encountered - almost like Zelig, he is everywhere, behind Hepburn, Beatles, King Kong and Bugs Bunny. I might have enjoyed it better if I read it as a teenager, when I loved these kind of dirty memoirs - now I am already middle aged and see things differently. Yes, we got it, it was difficult and complicated for those people to find dates and keep it hidden, but as a book it soon became repetitive. And I totally skipped the chapter about Charles Laughton, I simply didn't want to keep this in my head. 

"Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!" by Liza Minnelli, Josh Getlin and Heidi Evans (2026)

After a long & heavy battle with Walter Scott, I promised myself something light, fluffy and entertaining - and I had a perfect book in mind. I devoured this celebrity autobiography with the greatest pleasure in just a few days, nothing like previous book about medieval England and merry men from Sherwood forrest. Guess what, give me Walter Scott anytime - yes, it was sometimes a struggle but it was a beautiful creation worth repeated reading and it actually transported me in a different place and time. I was thinking this morning that this particular memoirs could have been something else entirely if Minnelli wrote it a decade or two ago, while she was still relatively strong in body and mind. At this moment, she is 80 and very frail, so naturally her focus is on a slow but inevitable decline. And we read about it a lot. Basically the first part of the book is climb upwards and second part is descent. Take it as you want. 

Years ago I read somewhere a description of Minnelli as a "loose cannon" and this had stayed with me since than. We all known and loved her since early 1970s when she at only 26, she won Oscar for her immortal role of quirky and lovable fräulein Sally Bowles - ever since, she was a famous for being famous, forever haunted by paparazzi and often photographed hanging around with other celebrities, though it would be hard to remember when was the last time she actually did something memorable. True, she did the best she could to escape gigantic shadows of her parents and created the individual stage persona for herself - kind of modern day version of her mother (who was a star of musicals and crowd magnet in live performances) - but she might had come along a little bit too late: during the 1960s people were turning to rock music and Minnelli was a throwback to completely different, earlier era of glitzy Las Vegas shows. While Streisand (who had similar background in the night clubs and musicals) eventually managed a smooth crossover to mainstream pop, Minnelli actually never had a hit single or successful movie after that 1972 masterpiece "Cabaret". 

So the first part of the book describes Minnelli's upbringing in Hollywood hills - kind of what people probably expect from her, memories of celebrities visitors, uncle this and uncle that, struggles with notoriously famous mother (who traumatised her for life, although Minnelli continues to write about her lovingly) and climb towards 1972 Oscar. Than something else emerges - the fact that movie industry didn't know what to do with her. Apparently the role like Sally Bowles happens only once in a lifetime. Notoriety and fame guaranteed that she will always have sold-out live performances in her concerts and musicals but both movie and music career basically quietly fizzled away. It's actually quite amazing to think that Minnelli continued performing for decades, even though she never had a hit record or another hit movie. Sporadic flash like silly 1981 comedy "Arthur" or 1989 out-of-the-blue collaboration with synth-pop duo Pet Shop Boys just proved that she was a wonderfully gifted, old-fashioned performer who never found another place to shine. 

I was always impressed with her powerful alto. I remember even as just a teenager, swooning over her early, pre-Cabaret recordings where she would recorded something like "On A Slow Boat To China" or "Stormy Weather" and honest to God I thought she was far, far better singer than her mother (I still do). So I continued enjoying her music and watching her dancing & singing in musicals was always a joy. But I understood that there was a big divide between her and regular big music stars who were selling chart-ruling hits - hers was a world of American Songbook and these things go in and out of fashion. When a surprising number of pop stars eventually turned to Songbook repertoire, Minnelli (who should have been by far the most obvious choice for this) was too busy with personal problems to actually pay attention to recordings. It is a miracle that her career continued as long as it did. 

The second part of the book is, sadly, perpetual fight with addictions, hospitals, rehab clinics and so on. It gets maddening and repetitive to the point that it unbalances the book - however, it is her story and her life. I can't comment on this since I don't hop around Hollywood parties with A list celebrities non stop, like she does. There must have been a lot of sycophants, enablers and whatnot around these people and its surely not a healthy environment, specially if someone is trying to stop drinking - luckily, she found a true friendship and support in Michael Feinstein and it seems they both love and support each other. The book was bittersweet - wonderful when things were happening, sad when they were not. It feels light and breezy but there were occasional reflections and insights that suggested Minnelli understands herself all too well. It takes a special kind of person to decide to give her whole life to a make-believe world. I love Liza. 

"From" - TV series (2022)

 

From time to time I wrote here about the TV shows I was enjoying (or not). There were some really good programmes recently that caught my attention, including "Silo", "Foundation" and "Pluribus" to name just a few, however they all have in common a fact that they were not overlong and were cleverly designed to keep the viewer's attention. That is how I got tricked into watching "From" on a friend's suggestion, not really knowing anything about it except that people who created "Lost" are behind it. Now, I am not even sure is that good recommendation or not, since after two seasons "Lost" eventually slid into a nonsense and was way too difficult for me to follow. But, hey, the premise looked good, the trailer was fine, so here I go, like a sucker, thinking oh well it must be good. Just to be reminded by my other half that I usually dislike TV shows that go on forever and should probably sign a contract to oblige me to watch it completely. 

A very exciting trailer and first few episodes of "From" set a tone of a horror/mystery story that was initially thrilling to watch: Matthews family arrives in some strange little town in the middle of nowhere and can't find their way out. There is a tree on the road blocking their way and no matter where they drive, they always end up at the same place, with resigned locals accepting this is their destiny, since everybody here got stuck the same way. Every single person here was driving elsewhere and got a tree blocking the road, just to find themselves back to the little town again and again. On top of all this, everybody must be indoors after sundown, because there are some shape-shifting monsters (pretending to be human) attacking and killing them. 

The cast is excellent - there is Harold Perrineau as sheriff Boyd, Ricky He as his deputy Kenny, Shaun Majumder as a local priest, Chloe Van Landschoot  as the only doctor/nurse, Avery Konrad as a young Sara who hears the voices (telling her to kill people) and Scott McCord as a creepy Victor who is here the longest and seems never grew up from his traumatic childhood. My favourite is Elizabeth Saunders as a straight-talking, no-nonsense leader of Colony House as the town is divided into two groups of survivors. While some people prefer to live in their own, heavily protected houses, others decide to live in a kind of hippie commune called Colony House. What is safer or better, depends on your point of view. My least favourite characters are actually Matthews family themselves, who are I guess meant to be everyday ordinary family but feel extremely annoying to me and I'm glad my family was never like this. We are supposed to sympathise with them but during all this danger and mayhem they mostly whine and behave in this touchy-feely way that I had never encountered in real life. Example: Jim and his wife Tabitha have argument about why he never opens and expresses his emotions instead of pretending that he is strong. Two minutes later he breaks down and cries a river, while his wife (who was crying in a previous scene) is now supporting him. And don't let me even start about spoiled and privileged kids who are constantly pampered to the point of growing into self-centred narcissists (ok, maybe the little kid less than his teenage sister who is insufferable). 

The first season had only 10 episodes, which seems like a reasonable length to me but alas, dear reader, the curse of "Lost" now started to repeat itself: in attempt to keep the audience glued to the screen, script writers keep on piling mystery on top of mystery without really explaining anything or coming to any conclusion. A little bit like Scheherazade who was weaving "One Thousand and One Nights" without end in sight. At the end of the first season, we are left without a single explanation why are these people stuck, who are the night monsters, why is this happening at all, etc, etc. The first season actually ends with the arrival of bus full of new characters who will (I expect) now will be either new victims or new elements of the plot. There might be some people who enjoy this and love guessing what is happening and what will happen - however, I have seen this already in "Lost" and it didn't work out so well, in fact I deserted that show after a while, finding it confusing and manipulative. Like the script writers think of themselves too clever to actually bother with any conclusions, dropping hints and suggestions all the time without any explanations. So here I am, halfway trough the season two and already frustrated because the series just going on and on without any logical explanation. I guess we will eventually find out they are all dead and this is purgatory. That should teach me not to be a sucker and accept every good trailer. 

"Ivanhoe" by Walter Scott (1819)

This has been on my to-read list forever and with some embarrassment I must admit that I don't recall ever actually reading Scott before. What I do remember is borrowing his "The Heart of Mid-Lothian" from my local public library as a teenager and bringing it back unread, so my initial introduction to this writer was not very impressive. Who knows was it a clumsy translation or simply the fact that I might have been too young for flowery and long-winded style of this author, but it left me a bit intimidated all these years until now. And since I decided that 2026 will be year of reading only writers I never read before, it came as completely spontaneous decision. Truth to be told, I always had soft spot for old classics and this year I already pushed myself trough experience of 1902 western "The Virginian" which was wonderful, though initially hard nut to crack - the more I persevered, the more I loved it. So perhaps unconsciously, I hoped for a similar experience. And I was 100% right.

First, a few words about Walter Scott - he was already a famous writer when he published "Ivanhoe" in 1819. He had enormous success with a series of historical novels set in 17th and 18th century Scotland, but with this next novel he decided to move plot in medieval England and there was something about the change of pace or perhaps he was simply inspired, in any case "Ivanhoe" became the biggest success of his professional life and turned thousands of readers to medieval history. This particular novel is the reason why they call Walter Scott "the father of historical fiction". Interestingly enough, everything we later accepted as a part of Robin Hood/Richard the Lionheart lore comes from this novel - all those legendary characters (Prince John, Friar Tuck, etc) they are all here and although they are supportive characters, they left such a strong impression on the readers that subsequent writers all use Scott as a inspiration. Another thing I must mention is Scott's writing style which is very, very old fashioned + he created his own version of old English language which is somewhere between poetic and annoying - first two chapters were incredibly hard to crack but as I continued, the magic happened and I started to actually enjoy the rhythm and the flow of the sentences. It felt as I am reading this forever but actually it was only 3 weeks. With all my proclaimed "suffering", when the end came I was sad to let the book go. Exactly like with above mentioned "The Virginian", it was at first difficult to read but than I got totally into it and at the end I loved it with all my heart. 

The novel itself is a curios combination of medieval knights adventure story and a highly researched historical novel, with some occasional moralising and a tons of sidetracking and detours that stop the plot dead in its tracks but also bring a real sense of author's thinking and his personality. Scott might not be really the first but he was certainly the first really widely read writer of historical fiction and very often this particular novel transport the reader into a completely different, medieval world - I was as enchanted as everybody else. From top of my head, I recall the description of funeral party after the passing of Saxon nobleman Athelstane and how all sorts of medieval folks crowded the Castle of Coningsburgh: 

" Numerous parties, therefore, were seen ascending and descending the hill on which the castle was situated; and when the King and his attendants entered the open and unguarded gates of the external barrier, the space within presented a scene not easily reconciled with the cause of the assemblage. In one place cooks were toiling to roast huge oxen and fat sheep; in another, hogsheads of ale were set abroach, to be drained at the freedom of all comers. Groups of every description were to be seen devouring the food and swallowing the liquor thus abandoned to their discretion. The naked Saxon serf was drowning the sense of his half-year’s hunger and thirst in one day of gluttony and drunkenness; the more pampered burgess and guild-brother was eating his morsel with gust, or curiously criticising the quantity of the malt and the skill of the brewer. Some few of the poorer Norman gentry might also be seen, distinguished by their shaven chins and short cloaks, and not less so by their keeping together, and looking with great scorn on the whole solemnity, even while condescending to avail themselves of the good cheer which was so liberally supplied.

Mendicants were, of course, assembled by the score, together with strolling soldiers returned from Palestine (according to their own account at least); pedlars were displaying their wares; travelling mechanics were inquiring after employment; and wandering palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon minstrels, and Welsh bards, were muttering prayers, and extracting mistuned dirges from their harps, crowds, and rotes. One sent forth the praises of Athelstane in a doleful panegyric; another, in a Saxon genealogical poem, rehearsed the uncouth and harsh names of his noble ancestry. Jesters and jugglers were not awanting, nor was the occasion of the assembly supposed to render the exercise of their profession indecorous or improper. Indeed, the ideas of the Saxons on these occasions were as natural as they were rude. If sorrow was thirsty, there was drink; if hungry, there was food; if it sunk down upon and saddened the heart, here were the means supplied of mirth, or at least of amusement. Nor did the assistants scorn to avail themselves of those means of consolation, although, every now and then, as if suddenly recollecting the cause which had brought them together, the men groaned in unison, while the females, of whom many were present, raised up their voices and shrieked for very woe." 

There is of course a story itself - about disinherited young knight Wilfred of Ivanhoe who is back from the crusade together with his lord Richard the Lionheart and how they had to fight back trough all the enemies surrounding the evil usurper Prince John, plus numerous complications concerning ladies (pretty but bland Saxon princess Rowena, who epitomises than current ideal of decorative and helpless beauty, the Jewish healer Rebecca who is far more interesting character), Robin Hood and his outlaws, countless servants, knights, abbots, etc. The novel is really a masterpiece and even though it was difficult to get into it, it gave me hours of joy and bliss.