Tag Archives: The So Blue Marble

THE BAMBOO BLONDE (Dorothy B. Hughes, 1941)

Whereas I read THE SO BLUE MARBLE in one big gulp, it has taken me almost two weeks to get through its sequel THE BAMBOO BLONDE, and thus no surprise that the series ends here. It’s the West Coast on the verge of WWII. Griselda Satterlee, Hollywood costume designer is honeymooning in Long Beach with her husband Con. They meet a drunken blonde in a bar. Con goes to take her home. The blonde ends up dead. Griselda does her best to clear her husband; her husband has another agenda; and so does everyone else: murder, spies, jealous lovers. The whole story unfurls through the wife’s consciousness and her point-of-view. The villain is a British major, interesting in the light of the times. But the main villain is not the main murderer. So who is it? It should all have been more gripping than it was. Only willpower, rather than a desire to know who did what, kept me going to the end. My third (In A Lonely Place is the other) and least favourite Dorothy B. Hughes novel. A disappointment.

José Arroyo

The So Blue Marble by Dorothy Hughes, 1940

Continuing my reading of Dorothy B. Hughes novels with her first, THE SO BLUE MARBLE, which features as many murders as IN A LONELY PLACE but in a much lighter vein. This one is as if Cole Porter or Astaire and Rogers became enmeshed in a series of murders in upper crust Manhattan on the eve of WWII. It focuses on Griselda Satterlee, a former film star turned fashion designer who goes to New York for a break, borrows her ex-husband’s apartment, only to find that she’s become prey to those who think she knows where an oh so blue and ever so valuable marble might be. Does she?Certainly, her ex once had it in his possession.  There are three beautiful sisters, a pair of very polite and very deadly European twins, one of them involved with the youngest sister, two top box office film stars, one Columbia Professor, an ex-husband who may not be an ex for long, and lots and lots of murders. They’re all searching for that shiny blue marble because, when opened, it reveals a map that will lead to untold wealth. Naturally, they all have their reasons for wanting it. Corpses pile up with a certain nonchalance: none is in itself sufficient to halt a trip to The Stork Club or El Morocco. An elegant, witty, mystery

 

José Arroyo