Lady and the tramp
Marilyn Monroe was, and is, riveting. But despite the level of interest in her, a great deal of information about her life is speculative. So when a book called The Life and Opinion of Maf the Dog and of his Friend Marilyn Monroe comes along, everyone hopes for a brand new insight. Sadly, Andrew O’Hagan’s new novel is more about the dog than it is about the star.
Two years before she died, Marilyn Monroe was given a Maltese Terrier by Frank Sinatra. She called him ‘Mafia Honey’. The book begins with Maf’s birth in Sussex and for a while it is nothing more than the life of a dog. Thankfully, the pup is brought across the pond to LA by Natalie Wood’s mother, who gives it to Sinatra who in turn gives it to Monroe. At this point the narrative should ideally take a more interesting turn, but because O‘Hagan decides to stick to the ‘facts’, there isn’t much here about Monroe that Wikipedia won’t tell you. The few things that Monroe said that have been documented are sometimes forced into conversation — as if O’Hagan is aware that there really isn’t enough Marilyn in this book to carry the reader’s interest. There isn’t even enough about her shoes which is funny, because the entire narrative is, after all, from the perspective of a small terrier — shouldn’t there be more than just two scenes about what happens under the Copacabana tables? A look at Monroe’s footwear may just be more appealing than a dog’s opinion on the Strasburg method of acting.
Maf’s redeeming features are a few choice scenes where O’Hagan is able to depict Sinatra in detail — and of course, Sinatra isn’t as nice a guy as all his fans had thought he was. He has plenty of connections with the mob (hence Monroe’s tongue in cheek naming of the terrier), and was heavily involved in campaigning to bring JFK into office. One particular scene stands out — Monroe visits Sinatra in his LA home, where he is seething after not being given the importance he feels he deserves by the newly appointed JFK government. Sinatra is ugly, angry and violent, throwing glasses into rocks and lashing out at Monroe. He calls her a ‘two-bit whore’ as she stands clutching her dog and weeping silently against a door. In his rage he feeds the very insecurities Monroe spent a lifetime fighting, leaving her shattered. The entire scene is sad and uncomfortable, and it’s a rare moment of raw emotion in the book.
O’Hagan is generally very empathetic of Monroe. She is shown as a sensitive and intelligent woman trapped by Hollywood stereotypes. It is unfortunate that the writer does not delve deeper into her life as he has done in the past with his essay ‘Saint Marilyn: The Cannonisation of Monroe’. O’Hagan covered more in that essay about Monroe than he has in this book, leaving aside even the last few months of her life when she was subsisting on that standard Hollywood cry for help cocktail of pills and booze.
Maf is a clunky read — the narrative is stalled by footnotes and asides and a whole slew of talking animals. O’Hagan has plenty of voices to give plenty of opinions to, and he uses them as much as he can, but none with great subtlety. Cats speak in verse (fun, but hardly an original idea for anyone who has ever heard of Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats), and rats speak like Brooklyn goons. Maf himself holds forth on literature, art and life – again and again, over and over.
Monroe is quoted as having said, “Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” Disappointingly, this book is just not ridiculous enough.
Published in the Express Tribune, June 13th, 2010.
Two years before she died, Marilyn Monroe was given a Maltese Terrier by Frank Sinatra. She called him ‘Mafia Honey’. The book begins with Maf’s birth in Sussex and for a while it is nothing more than the life of a dog. Thankfully, the pup is brought across the pond to LA by Natalie Wood’s mother, who gives it to Sinatra who in turn gives it to Monroe. At this point the narrative should ideally take a more interesting turn, but because O‘Hagan decides to stick to the ‘facts’, there isn’t much here about Monroe that Wikipedia won’t tell you. The few things that Monroe said that have been documented are sometimes forced into conversation — as if O’Hagan is aware that there really isn’t enough Marilyn in this book to carry the reader’s interest. There isn’t even enough about her shoes which is funny, because the entire narrative is, after all, from the perspective of a small terrier — shouldn’t there be more than just two scenes about what happens under the Copacabana tables? A look at Monroe’s footwear may just be more appealing than a dog’s opinion on the Strasburg method of acting.
Maf’s redeeming features are a few choice scenes where O’Hagan is able to depict Sinatra in detail — and of course, Sinatra isn’t as nice a guy as all his fans had thought he was. He has plenty of connections with the mob (hence Monroe’s tongue in cheek naming of the terrier), and was heavily involved in campaigning to bring JFK into office. One particular scene stands out — Monroe visits Sinatra in his LA home, where he is seething after not being given the importance he feels he deserves by the newly appointed JFK government. Sinatra is ugly, angry and violent, throwing glasses into rocks and lashing out at Monroe. He calls her a ‘two-bit whore’ as she stands clutching her dog and weeping silently against a door. In his rage he feeds the very insecurities Monroe spent a lifetime fighting, leaving her shattered. The entire scene is sad and uncomfortable, and it’s a rare moment of raw emotion in the book.
O’Hagan is generally very empathetic of Monroe. She is shown as a sensitive and intelligent woman trapped by Hollywood stereotypes. It is unfortunate that the writer does not delve deeper into her life as he has done in the past with his essay ‘Saint Marilyn: The Cannonisation of Monroe’. O’Hagan covered more in that essay about Monroe than he has in this book, leaving aside even the last few months of her life when she was subsisting on that standard Hollywood cry for help cocktail of pills and booze.
Maf is a clunky read — the narrative is stalled by footnotes and asides and a whole slew of talking animals. O’Hagan has plenty of voices to give plenty of opinions to, and he uses them as much as he can, but none with great subtlety. Cats speak in verse (fun, but hardly an original idea for anyone who has ever heard of Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats), and rats speak like Brooklyn goons. Maf himself holds forth on literature, art and life – again and again, over and over.
Monroe is quoted as having said, “Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” Disappointingly, this book is just not ridiculous enough.
Published in the Express Tribune, June 13th, 2010.