Some novels have baggage. Valley of the Dolls, Jacqueline Susann's 1966 bestseller, arrived like a Lear jet rolling into Aspen and unloading a cargo hold full of contraband. This rags to riches tale chronicling the show business rise and fall of three women features nightlife, penthouses, virgins, abortion, drug overdoses, a fight in the ladies' room and the search for love, all doled out in the most mundane language possible. Contrary to my expectations, I ate it up.
Unfolding over twenty years beginning September 1945, the story begins with Anne Welles arriving in New York City. Twenty years old, a Radcliffe grad with a degree in English, Anne is as fresh off the turnip truck as a girl can get. Born and raised in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, Anne has fled simple existence in a small town to make it in the Big Apple. Her beauty and wholesomeness make an impression on the sage and paternal Harry Bellamy, a theatrical attorney interviewing for a new secretary. He hires the turnip.
Anne finds a brownstone and befriends a seventeen year old named Ethel Agnes O'Neill (Neely) who lives across the hall. Neely is so exuberant that Anne finds it difficult to believe her neighbor is a vaudevillian, seeking her break in show biz. A true talent, Neely hopes Anne might be able to pull some strings with her new employers. These include a stunningly handsome entertainment attorney named Lyon Burke who returns to the firm after serving his country for four years in England.
While Anne is given the mission of finding Lyon an apartment, she's courted by an insurance salesman she meets at the office named Allen Cooper. Her friendship with Allen lacks the magnetism of her's with Lyon, but Allen behaves as a gentleman and reveals a secret to Anne straight out of a storybook. Presented with the opportunity for financial security beyond her dreams, Anne refuses to be rushed into a decision. She focuses on work and on a new musical fronted by Harry's biggest client, the prima donna Helen Lawson.
When Helen selects Anne to be her new confidante, Anne is able to land Neely a role in the show. Stardom beckons and Neely changes her name to Neely O'Hara. Anne befriends another member of the cast, Jennifer North, a world class beauty with only modest singing or acting skills and whose age is in constant flux. Jennifer, an unassuming woman who's nice to Anne, becomes romantically involved with a crooner named Tony Polar. She is soon locked in a battle with Tony's stage managing sister, Miriam.
Anne is torn between marriage to Allen and her attraction to Lyon, who asks for nothing and promises nothing. Neely become a breakout star. She heads to Hollywood, bringing her new husband, a copywriter she quickly bores of. Jennifer outsmarts Miriam and corners Tony into a marriage, but moving to L.A. with them, is relegated to the role of Hollywood wife. To cope, Neely and Jennifer turn to "the dolls." Dexedrine to keep them up and lose weight, Seconal and Nembutal to help them sleep.
Right away, Valley of the Dolls subverted a few prejudices I had based on my knowledge of the 1967 film starring Barbara Parkins, Patty Duke, Sharon Tate and Susan Hayward. It's a postwar story taking place mostly in the late 1940s and '50s, not the swinging sixties. It's set in New York, hopping into and fleeing Hollywood almost as quickly as Alvy Singer does in Annie Hall. And in spite of some dramatics, the book is much more chaste than I expected.
In terms of debauchery, Susann falls somewhere between Judy Blume and Reefer Madness here. She was either unable or unwilling to binge the reader on sex, drugs and rock 'n roll, so instead of concocting more wild plot twists or manufacturing shock, she hooks us with characters resigned to their fate, questioning free will, seeking love. And they're so gosh darn innocent through it all that I wanted to pat them on the heads.
"Hey, God, are you really up there?" she said. "Are you a big white-haired man with a beard? Do you understand me? Tell me, what went wrong? I never asked for too much. Geez, all I wanted was an apartment and a guy to love me. I tried--why did you fuck it up all the time? Why in hell did you give me a voice if you didn't want me to be great? Why did you take it away?" She poured the last of the Scotch and dropped the bottle on the floor.
I could imagine a hip sixth grader telling Valley of the Dolls to her friends at a slumber party. The story might take hours to finish depending on how often the storyteller was interrupted to explain what a diaphragm was. The book not only reads like an instructional guide for what a junior high school student can expect from Life in the Big City, but Jacqueline Susann writes like a starry-eyed adolescent:
She left the square and walked down Fifth Avenue. It was getting late. She had to go home and change. Allen was picking her up. Allen! She couldn't marry Allen! That would be refuting everything she had said. That was really giving up! It was too early to compromise with even part of a dream.
The reason why the writing or lack of it ends up being a speed bump in my enjoyment of Valley of the Dolls is that what Susann lacks in language arts she compensates for with a foundation in sociology and psychology. She knows what makes people tick. In terms of political machination, the novel is a pure delight. Susann allows every character a dilemma of, "If I tell A to B, then C will follow, but if I tell him D, then I might get E." Then we get to see the sequence executed.
Even while I was laughing at how on the button the prose was, I was hooked on the story. I never considered abandoning it before finding out what happened to Anne, Neely and Jennifer. There's not much character development or sense of place, but Susann is credible when it comes to writing about show business. The writing is too childish for me to deem the book "sexy," but I agree with Nora Ephron's blurb that Susann is a natural storyteller and for a certain type of reader, like me, I guess, impossible to put down.