‘SCRUPLES’, INTERRUPTED

I got upset the other day over something people would certainly call trivial. The cover of my precious SCRUPLES tore itself off almost completely from its spine during one of my re-readings. I’m afraid to open the novel now. It’s the 1978 mass market paperback Warner Books edition, the one with the inside front cover featuring the blurbs; and on the inside back cover, the full-colored image of the author. You can say I’m all inconsolable about this. I’ve always tried taking good care of the novel, never bending it too much, always using a book cover to keep it neat and clean. But I guess time rendered it fragile and in the end it just gave up. I would gladly show it to you but I’m afraid it will tear off completely if I scan it. So here’s a scan of a beat up paperback Spanish edition of SCRUPLES instead. Sure, I could always use Scotch Tape to strengthen the cover but it’s not the same as it being undamaged, is it? 

So the next best thing is to find myself another mint copy. Easier said than done, I quickly realized. With the disappearance of local used book stores and the hard-to-find tag attached to the book it is almost impossible to find it unless I pay big bucks online which I refuse to do. I did pick up a copy recently but without the inside back cover and author photo. It is not the same, I agree, but it is far better than owning nothing. That is until I get my hands on a real replacement.  

Then again, maybe I won’t. Maybe it’s the book’s way of telling me that we must part, it and I, for I did blast it a little while ago, mainly for its homophobic content which I more or less retracted later on in another post. Nonetheless karma did find a way to reach me. Still, I refuse to give any credence to that. I adore SCRUPLES too much despite its obvious flaws. So I’ll hold on to my hopes of being reacquainted with it. When will that be exactly? I have no clue yet. But mark my words, it will happen, or my middle name isn’t trash guru after all.

Until next post—Martin 

  

JUDITH KRANTZ’S ‘SCRUPLES’ VS THE GAY MAFIA

 

I’ve been comparing many novels to SCRUPLES and yet still no post featuring that title. I think it’s time to remedy the situation, so here it goes. The first time I came across SCRUPLES was in the mid-‘80s, not long after my involvement with HOLLYWOOD WIVES. I wanted to read another gem about Tinseltown and critics raved about Judith Krantz’s first novel. I had high hopes it was going to be as gripping as the Jackie Collins classic and it was but on a different level.  SCRUPLES introduced me to classy trash. Before Krantz, we had authors like Susann, Robbins, Sheldon, even Collins, whose main goal was to shock rather than entice. But it took Krantz’s talent to raise the bar and what followed was a bunch of well-written oeuvres that may not have existed had Krantz not paved the way. Anyway, to make a long story short, I recently re-read the thing just so I could acclimate myself to her world before embarking on her many sequels. At first it was all lovey dovey between the novel and I.  I was so happy being reunited with boutique owner Wilhelmina ‘Billie’ Winthrop, photographer and ladies’ man Spider, and spunky fashion designer Valentine. But as I got further into their storylines something unexpected happened, something that completely passed me by the first time around: underneath all that glam existed a kind of a homophobic novel.  

First and foremost let me say this: I don’t mind when a gay character turns out to be unsympathetic in print because it’s true, some of us do tend to be bitchy; as any other person can be. What I don’t enjoy, however, is when an author takes the opportunity to downgrade homosexuals in his or her own work, like choosing derogatory words to describe them for instance. And Ms. Krantz uses them quite often in SCRUPLES, when she’s not busy putting a negative spin on their lifestyles. Indeed, many chapters are devoted to their wicked ways which, I admit, can be fun if taken with a grain of salt. But the problem I have with this is that she makes it seem like we’re all one and the same, that we are all cheaters, manipulators, distrustful... 

Oh don’t get me wrong, I realize that the novel is from a different era and that her lack of fondness for a certain type was far from being uncommon, but this fixation of hers is a bit cray cray, if you ask me; the clichés are everywhere, from a queenie fashion designer who gets off on verbal abuse and sexual stimulation in rest rooms, to a closeted lesbian agent who hates the very thought of a masculine presence. Not to mention the many cracks regarding one’s position in the fashion industry. Krantz never stops. So much so that I had to take an urgent breather and read something else just to get my mind out of her gutter.  I did manage to finish the novel and I did enjoy it… to a certain degree. But I would be lying if I said all these unnecessary jibes didn’t bother me.  

Now for the big question: would I still recommend SCRUPLES knowing what I know now? Probably, but it would come with a warning, like this written piece, for instance. That being said, I hope I did not turn some of you too much away from this novel, for it does sparkle underneath that nastiness. But it would have been unfair of me to sweep those remarks under the carpet and declare the novel just cookie and cakes. Besides, forewarned is forearmed, right?

  

Until next post—Martin