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Acapulco
Acapulco... Mexico's glittering city of sin, fun and high living. A glamorous, glossy world of tourists and peasants, hard-bitten businessmen and footloose hippies, a world where rich and poor rub shoulders in search of kicks.
Paul Foreman went there to make a film with Shelly Hanes and Harry Bristol. Grace Biondi went to work with the primitive hill tribes. Samantha Moore lived there in fading splendour left over from her days as Hollywood's dream queen.
In Acapulco their paths crossed, intermingled in a desperate web of hope and lust and intrigue that stamped its sinuous mark upon all their lives.
Paul Foreman went there to make a film with Shelly Hanes and Harry Bristol. Grace Biondi went to work with the primitive hill tribes. Samantha Moore lived there in fading splendour left over from her days as Hollywood's dream queen.
In Acapulco their paths crossed, intermingled in a desperate web of hope and lust and intrigue that stamped its sinuous mark upon all their lives.
336 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 1971
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October 14, 2013
What? No one reviewed ACAPULCO yet? Fixing that now, not because it's the greatest forgotten novel of the 70s but because I wanted something to read on plane ride, and this one was ready to go into the backpack. It could have been ULYSSES but...
Anyway, this is very much a novel of its day as a cast of characters armed with various neuroses and hangups descend on Acapulco in the late winter months. Half of the characters are there to film a movie named "Love, Love" (yes, that's really the name of their movie). You've got the bullying pig-minded producer, the tortured artistic-minded director, and the beautiful lost-soul star with the wayward past. Added to that is a faded, once fabulously wealthy socialite, a bullheaded father and his hippie son, a well-meaning anthropologist and an out-in-the-fringes sketchy forty year old beachboy. Everyone is hellbent on stirring up a potpourri of soapsuds for the sun-baked, nicotine addicted, beach (or poolside) reader of 1971. Hirschfeld's writing is smooth and professional, and damn it, I got sucked into the story. There's a lot of hot sex, wanton abandon, drugs and tripping, social commentary, love, betrayal and all that cool stuff going on.
ACAPULCO is a relic of a genre that is gone away and forgotten in the cynical world of commercial publishing today. Whatever, I'll take this stuff over most of that oh-so-earnest hi-falutin modern lit of guilt-addled professional suburban urbanites of the 2000s anytime. You know the ones I'm referring to...they buy movie tickets from their smartphones, order lattes from the drive-thru and ponder subjects like whether Nick Carraway is gay or not. (I just can't resist that last jab!)
Anyway, this is very much a novel of its day as a cast of characters armed with various neuroses and hangups descend on Acapulco in the late winter months. Half of the characters are there to film a movie named "Love, Love" (yes, that's really the name of their movie). You've got the bullying pig-minded producer, the tortured artistic-minded director, and the beautiful lost-soul star with the wayward past. Added to that is a faded, once fabulously wealthy socialite, a bullheaded father and his hippie son, a well-meaning anthropologist and an out-in-the-fringes sketchy forty year old beachboy. Everyone is hellbent on stirring up a potpourri of soapsuds for the sun-baked, nicotine addicted, beach (or poolside) reader of 1971. Hirschfeld's writing is smooth and professional, and damn it, I got sucked into the story. There's a lot of hot sex, wanton abandon, drugs and tripping, social commentary, love, betrayal and all that cool stuff going on.
ACAPULCO is a relic of a genre that is gone away and forgotten in the cynical world of commercial publishing today. Whatever, I'll take this stuff over most of that oh-so-earnest hi-falutin modern lit of guilt-addled professional suburban urbanites of the 2000s anytime. You know the ones I'm referring to...they buy movie tickets from their smartphones, order lattes from the drive-thru and ponder subjects like whether Nick Carraway is gay or not. (I just can't resist that last jab!)
Displaying 1 of 1 review