Whoever is saying that the following is a compacted, repetitive sequence of high society name-dropping, fails to understand the context behind Dominick Dunne. And in case the reader is wondering whether the fictional character, Gus Bailey, is based off the real Dominick Dunne, you are correct in your guessing. Just imagine that this is Dunne, because everything that is written, including all the sass and the diva style drama that is involved in Gus Bailey’s life, was in fact a reality throughout Dunne’s experiences of being amongst the socialite circles of Los Angeles and New York City.
The past twenty-seven years has made the O.J Simpson trial age like fine wine, and to reignite this Nineties nostalgia is possible through the way Dominick Dunne writes. He was an intimate source in the way the trial was reported and has since become a cultural treasure for “True Crime” as a genre and to “Rich people” homicide cases. His prose and style were sharp throughout the entirety of the book, since his subjective tone of O. J’s guilt was highlighted from the beginning of the famous Bronco chase – witnessing what the other 95 million Americans were witnessing, Gus Bailey, as we see his character unfold, became obsessed by this new fixture to L.A. folklore – his quest for justice was second to none.
Gus Bailey’s romance with law and order, and especially, with O.J, O.J, and more O.J, lassoes your own judgments to be as equal to his own, the whole “innocent until proven guilty” catch is thrown out the door as you ride the wave of Gus Bailey’s distress and trauma of the tumultuous, ten-month trial. You are a fly-on-the-wall in the entirety of this book, a counterpart to Gus perhaps, as he sits at restaurants with famous Hollywood elite, eating, lunching, and dining with the many names that he causally he drops – of whom existed and were current at the time. Nancy Reagan, Elizabeth Taylor, the prosecutors Marcia Clark, and Christopher Darden, whom Gus admired throughout the whole trial, besotted by their virtue and shared fight for justice, and even members of the defense, such as Robert Kardashian, Robert Shapiro, and F. Lee Bailey. As the once “man about town,” Gus Bailey, who is Dominick Dunne to a tee, knows everyone.
Another City, Not My Own, was a travel back in time to Los Angeles in the Nineties. A fading combination of old Hollywood and new, the book transports you to legendary landmarks within the City of Angels. You quite literally feel like that you are attending these court room trials, dramas, and T.V/radio interviews with Gus. There are even times when you can feel as though you are riding in the back seat of the Mercedes with Gus, gossiping about the insights of the entire trial, and sipping on cocktails in the lobby of the Chateau Marmont. Dunne’s portrayal of Los Angeles is executed beautifully, even while it was a city that he regularly described with complete loathing.
There is a bigger story here than the O.J trial, the story is Gus Bailey (Dominick Dunne), and his reflections on his personal highs and lows. No one lived a more tumultuous life, filled with adversity after adversity, more than him. From his rise to fall as a movie producer in Hollywood, to his degenerate drugtaking stage, he went broke, lost everything, lost his beloved daughter who was murdered by a jealous ex-boyfriend, and who subsequentially went to serve a two-and-half-year sentence in jail – a slap on the wrist – in the words of Dominick. The hardships that are played out throughout this novel, in which Dunne subtitles it as also being a memoir, presents the richness of one’s own suffering, and how one can recover from the greatest falls.
He loved those trials so much that he had to base a fictional character on himself to relive each stage of the ten-month proceeding during the O.J trial. At times, he writes with such fury and passion, at others it can be sloppy and quite unnecessary, but overall, a marvellous escapade of that specific period in America’s history, and a monumental one, indeed. A note to the reader: some background research before reading any of Dunne’s works is required. He may come across pompous and highbrow, but his intent is sincere. And all that name dropping that everyone seems to hate is a part of Dunne’s signatory style.