Customer Reviews

Too Much Money: A Novel

5 star:		(16)
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3 star:		(10)
2 star:		(8)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

Novelist/columnist Dominick Dunne died in the August of this last year, leaving behind a legacy of reporting on the uppermost circles of American society.

And he doesn't disappoint in his final roman à clef, a gilded look into the unseen world at the top of New York, where scandals and crimes swim under the glimmering surface. But "Too Much Money" could easily be called "Portrait of an Artist Who Knows the End is Near" -- the main character is pretty much identical to Dunne himself in his final years, and there's a poignant bite to his last quiet quest for the truth.

Gus Bailey has had a rough two years, especially since a corrupt politician (suspected in the death of an intern) is suing him for libel because of a careless mistake. So he's focusing on a pet project he's wanted to work on for years -- "An Infamous Woman," about the philanthropist Perla Zacharias and the mysterious, suspicious death of her husband Konstantin. However, Perla isn't about to take this lying down -- and she'll unleash filthy rumors, spying, and whatever else it takes to keep all her skeletons in the closet.

While this is going on, society is undergoing shifts both subtle and massive. The infamous Elias Renthal is being released from prison, and he and his wife are beginning a crusade to reenter polite society; a genteel old-guard matron finds herself "downsized" from her life of grandeur, but is offered a new chance; and a charming, light-fingered gay "walker" wends his way onto the trains of wealthy women. Some will rise, some will fall, and Gus Bailey will see it all.

Dunne was dying when he wrote "Too Much Money," and it shows -- there's a slight roughness to his prose, and the whole "suspicious death of Konstantin" is wrapped up in a limp, unsatisfactory manner (seriously, WHAT HAPPENED?). It's a credit to Dunne's skill that his final book is nevertheless an engaging one -- he writes sleek, elegant prose riddled with genteel charm and dignity, and a poignant look at a once exalted slice of New York's society.

Of course, there's also a healthy dose of scandal and crime shielded behind false names, lots of lush descriptions of how the wealthy live and maintain their exalted status ("It's supposed to overpower a room. That's the point of owning a Canaletto"), and how elegantly-dressed nouveau riche can supplant the old Auchinclossian aristocracy. And Dunne takes a hard, piercing look at what makes a life truly worth living, rather than an empty one of fair-weather friends and parties.

But the heart of this book is ultimately Gus. He IS Dunne in his waning years: an elderlywriter with a dead daughter and two sons, who is loved for his wit and loathed for his roman à clef novels. He's even sued for libel by a corrupt politician involved in an intern's disappearance (sound familiar?).

He's also a likable, humble man who is bent but not broken by the temper tantrums of his rich enemies, and determined to ferret out the truth even if he has to anger the third-richest woman in the world. There's also a pretty colorful gang of supporting characters -- genteel society matrons escorted by their charming gay "walkers," a Wall Street businessman and his "trashy" wife, kindly Irish cooks, and the screeching, icy-cold Perla (who seems determined to hide... something we never quite see).

"Too Much Money" sputters at the end of Gus's years-long quest to reveal the truth, but the journey is what makes Dominick Dunne's final novel a good (if flawed) read. Farewell, Mr. Dunne -- you will be missed.

Dominick Dunne did not go gently into that good night. For those who loved his jaded look into the lifestyles of the rich and famous -- and I count myself among them -- this is his swan song. And precisely because he does have loose ends to tie up and things to put to rest, this book is not as satisfying as his others -- People Like Us, The Two Mrs. Grenvilles, and Season in Purgatory, to name a few.

Here, his alter ego -- Gus Bailey -- again glides through the world of the most swanky invitations and best restaurant tables, an insular world where people think nothing of buying Karl Lagerfeld designer duds with sable cuffs and joining the ultra-chic social club, The Butterfield in Manhattan.

His characters are very thinly veiled stand-ins for people whose names have become household words -- Adele Harcourt, for example, is obviously Brooke Astor, Christine Saunders is Barbara Walters, Kyle Cramden is Gary Condit and Perla Zacharias is Lily Safra, the international jet-setter whose husband died in a mysterious fire. Grayson Carter -- the editor of Vanity Fair -- also is depicted. And there are famous "walkers" here, too -- gay men who accompany stupendously wealthy divorcees and widows to high-visibility public events. And, of course there are the "wanna-bees" -- put-upon personal cooks, gossipy florists and undertakers -- all those who float below the world of the high-and-mighty.

The plot is thin -- at the center of it, Gus Bailey struggles to complete one last book about the death of Perla Zacharias' husband, while she summons every bit of money and influence to defeat him. Favorite past charcters like Ruby and Elias Renthal and Lil Altemus make their appearance. It is not a spoiler -- because it has been reported extensively in the media -- that Gus Bailey (Dominick Dunne) "outs" himself for the first time here, to put wide-spreading rumors to rest. To this reader, it was poignant and sad that this man who entertained so many was unable to live authentically and receive the love he deserved.

This book also functions as a "once upon a time". Once upon a time, we were all fascinated with this insular world where social antennae quivered and wealthy "people like us" were exalted. Now all the excess seems positively obscene, and the focus has shifted to those who are "self-made" men and women and who have given back (Bill Gates, for example). Still, readers can thank Mr. Dunne for his always entertaining social chronicles and hope that this tortured but oh-so-talented diarist has found his peace.

Part of the appeal of Dominick Dunne's novels is that he rips the veil off the rich and powerful; underneath he gives us the stench of corruption and desperation. And yet his first-person narrator --- Gus Bailey, a thinly disguised stand-in for Dunne --- gets asked back to dinner. Talk about your unlikely hero!

The aging hostess and the dying guest are staples in Dominick Dunne's final book. Written while he was dying --- and knew it --- this is a book about older people, Society figures from Dunne's novels of the 1980s and 1990s.

There are some new elements. On a radio show, Gus has shared a piece of gossip about a Congressman who's a suspect in the disappearance of an intern; just as Dunne was by Gary Condit, Gus has been sued for millions. The editor of Park Avenue Magazine assures Gus that the boss will cover his legal fees, inspired, no doubt, by a promise that Vanity Fair's Graydon Carter reportedly made to Dunne. And Gus confesses to his lawyer that he's bi-sexual, though he has been celibate for decades.

If you didn't read Dunne's first few novels, think twice --- you'll have a hard time figuring out who's who here, to say nothing of what they're fighting about. But for the millions who loved his sleek prose, inside dish and deep skepticism about the rich, Dominick Dunne's exit interview is surely necessary reading

Dominick Dunne's endearing creation, Gus Bailey, was very much his alter ego: a likeable guy who went everywhere, knew everyone, and was as good a listener as he was a reporter of the social scene. In "Too Much Money", Dunne's valedictory, Bailey returns for one final bow, bringing with him many of the characters who fascinated his readers in "People Like Us".

Dunne refers to "People Like Us" often in "Too Much Money", only here it's called "Our Own Kind" (as if anyone wouldn't understand the reference). Apparently, "People Like Us" landed Dunne on several high society figures' blacklists; Jerry Zipkin, lampooned as the fat and fatuous Ezzie Fenwick, was furious at him, and Annette de la Renta (Oscar the designer's wife) cut him dead at a dinner party after recognizing herself as Loelia Manchester, just to name two. In "Too Much Money" he brings back the notorious Renthals, the social-climbing Ruby and her insider-trading husband Elias, about to be released from the "facility" (i.e. federal penitentiary) where he has spent the last seven years; Lillian Altemus Van Degan, snooty as ever, fallen off her pedestal after the despised poor relative Dodo inherited all the Van Degan money; Maisie Verdurin, former art dealer turned real estate maven, and several more. He also introduces a deliciously nasty villain named Perla Zacharias, the third richest woman in the world, whose husband, Konstantin, has died under peculiarly suspicious circumstances.

Gus Bailey, usually spot-on in his social commentary, has made a spectacular boo-boo this time around: he's made the fatal mistake of repeating some unsubstantiated gossip about a corrupt politician who is suspected of engineering the death of an inconvenient intern (anybody remember the Gary Condit/Chandra Levy scandal a few years ago?) and the politico is suing his socks off. To keep his mind off the pending lawsuit, and possibly to make a pile of loot to pay off his legal bills, Bailey is writing a tell-all about Perla Zacharias and the suspicious death of her husband. But the widow Zacharias is a particularly nasty force to be reckoned with: she's not above spying, slander, innuendoes and whatever dirty tricks it takes to keep Bailey from publishing that book.

"Too Much Money" isn't as satisfying a novel as "People Like Us" -- there are some minor but annoying lapses (Justine Van Degan's son Hubie by her ex-husband Bernie Slatkin mysteriously morphs into a daughter named Cordelia) and major plot threads left dangling -- we never do find out just what happened to Konstantin Zacharias. In a way, "Too Much Money" is a sad book to read; Dunne knew he was terminally ill with cancer when he wrote it, and Gus Bailey is similarly dying of the same disease. But Dunne still has the gift of keeping us interested from page to page; "Too Much Money" effortlessly zips along and we have fun keeping up with the plot lines while figuring out who's who in real life (a ten year old could probably guess that Adele Harcourt, the reigning grande dame at 105, was Brooke Astor, and a murdering husband and his murdered wife represent Claus and Sonny Von Bulow). It's not Dunne's best book, but it's a satisfying read. It's nice that Dunne was able to go out with a win.

Judy Lind

Billed as a sequel to Dunne's "People Like Us," a look at the Manhattanites at the top layer of society (and those trying to get there) in the gilded '80s, "Too Much Money" is marvelously written, but both too brief and sadly foreshadowed by both the author's and his future readers' knowledge that the end is coming for Dunne, as well as for his fictional alter ego, writer Gus Bailey.

Elias Renthal, the billionaire whose rise to the top in "People Like Us" ended in a seven-year stretch in prison (which his wife Ruby persists in calling "the facility") is sympathetically drawn. Having retained much of his fortune despite incarceration, and having remarried Ruby, the two prepare to re-settle in New York City. Elias is well aware that the phrase "ex-convict" will lead his obituary whatever he does, though the couple retain a savvy flack to publicize their better moments. Ruby has lost the "sweetness" she demonstrated in "People Like Us," says Bailey, though she proves to be a loving wife once again. Most of their former friendships are gone, others have suffered; even Ruby's closeness to Gus Bailey is strained because of Bailey's magazine articles and a television broadcast devoted to the business machinations of Elias that landed him in "the facility."

It often is hard to tell where Gus Bailey "is" Dominick Dunne, and where the two characters diverge. Certainly they have much in common: a broken but never entirely severed marriage, two beloved sons and a granddaughter, a murdered daughter, a successful career in journalism, publishing, and television, delicately worded allusions to the private life of the real man and fictional one, and the recurrence of cancer. Even a slander suit brought against Bailey strongly resembles the lawsuit brought by former Rep. Gary Condit against Dunne, when he followed a planted lead to the disappearance of Condit's ex-lover Chandra Levy that turned out to be false. The enormous strain on Dunne is evident in the parallel story that Bailey endures.

Dunne excels at introducing a character, such as gay society "walker" Addison Lane, who squires beloved benefactress Adele Harcourt around until her death, and then plans to "ride the sable coattails" of "third richest woman in the world" Perla Zacharias as far they will take him. The Zacharias back story mirrors the suspicious death of financier Edmond Safra (a story followed closely in Vanity Fair by Dunne), and his widow, who is desperate to stop Bailey from writing a novel based on her life and story.

The main flaw of this book is that it just isn't long enough (270 pages), and Dunne's fans are left longing for more details, more interplay, more follow-up that we know we never will get. There also are a few fascinating characters from "People Like Us" who don't appear in "Too Much Money," such as society belle Loelia Manchester, and heiress Justine Altemus. We don't know how much of this book was completed before Dunne succumbed to bladder cancer, but having read all of his published work, it seems inconceivable to me that Dunne's sharp eye for detail would have allowed Justine's son Hubie (from her brief marriage to newscaster Bernie Slatkin, another engaging character absent this time around) to morph into a daughter named Cordelia. Neither does Dunne explain how Justine's social gargoyle of a mother, Lil Van Degan Altemus, loses so much money that she must sell her Fifth Avenue apartment and "ride the Madison Avenue bus." Lil's "duty luncheons" with the much-younger stepmother she despises, Dodo, who inherited the bulk of the Van Degan fortune (when Lil complains of Dodo wearing Lil's mother's pearls, Dodo drops them into Lil's pea soup), and how Lil's devoted cook of many years, Gert Hoolihan, is lured away by Ruby Renthal, are some of the most entertaining parts of the book.

Here's to you, Dominick Dunne, who rose from the ashes of personal and professional failure at the age of fifty to entertain and enlighten his readers for more than twenty-five years. As with the last novel of Dunne's brother John Gregory Dunne, which also was published posthumously, I read "Too Much Money" with sadness mixed with pleasure from first page to last.

Like the first two reviewers of Dominick Dunne's newest/last book, I was going to give it four stars. I've loved Dunne's writing all these years, from his columns in Vanity Fair to his many novels along the way. "People Like Us" was always a particular favorite of mine. I always thought it was better than Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities", which was released at about the same time and was about the same strata of NYC society - the "titans of Wall Street" and their "Social X-ray" wives.

"Too Much Money" is about the same characters, updated a few years or so, and beginning with Elias Renthal's release from prison, i.e. "the facility" and Adele Harcourt's death, at the age of 105. A famous slander case that the real Dominick Dunne was involved in is a large part of the novel, as well as his on-going battle with one of the wealthiest widows in the world over her husband's suspicious death in Monte Carlo. Like Dominick Dunne, Gus Bailey was diagnosed with cancer and his treatment is also part of the story. As are the incidental characters, maids, chauffeurs, press people, society "walkers"; auxiliary people who Dunne draws with a wicked, but, at times, sympathetic pen.

And the most interesting part of the book is that I think Dominick Dunne "outs" himself. I won't give the part away but it seemed almost as if Dunne confesses something he has long wanted to say, but maybe couldn't until he faced death.

Was the writing great? No, it wasn't "five star" great - it was "four star" - but, in honor of the man's last work, and the honesty in writing it, I'm giving it "five stars". Enjoy.

This is a fast book to read. It is not very long and it is certainly not deep. It is Dunne's last look at New York high society. Dunne himself is one of the main characters in the book. I've read virtually all of Dunne's work. It is his crime writing that is his best work. This book is not about crime and murder so it is right away not his top level stuff. However, it does show him at the end. He's got terminal cancer (his prostate cancer returned). He's trying to finish his last work for Vanity Fair and his novel. Ostensibly his last novel was apparently to be about Lily Safra, the widow of the banker Safra who died in the suspicious fire. However, this book instead becomes a book about a woman named Perla (for all intents Lily Safra) who moves heaven and earth to stop Dunne writing about her. His other persecutor is Gary Condit (given a fictional name here as well), who pursues Dunne for millions for saying something slanderous about his alleged involvement in the death of Chandra Levy (called Diandra Lomax here). He does end up having to pay money to Condit to avoid going to trial. Actually, I wish Dunne had been well enough to go to trial with Condit because I can't believe any jury would give much money to Condit based on loss of his "good name." The most surprising revelation of all though is that Dunne admits that although he has been celibate for twenty plus years, that he did have a closeted homosexual past despite having three children and a wife. After he revealed this, I could kind of see it from reading all his other work.

There are other characters in this book but frankly, I wouldn't want to know any of them. These are all the people who are in society and lunch and dine with one another constantly. Most of them are the most boring people you could ever hope to encounter. Some people will enjoy this part of the book. It was the weakest for me.

Well, I miss him, especially his murder work. I'm glad he was able to write this goodbye for us.

I have always admired Dominick Dunne and his alter ego, Gus Bailey, and this new novel doesn't let me down. Gus, who writes for a Park Avenue magazine like Vanity Fair and is a confidant of the rich and famous, has foolishly repeated a fake story he'd gotten from an unreliable source on a radio program and is now being sued for millions by former Congressman Kyle Cramden.

This distracts Gus from working on his new novel about the mysterious death of billionaire Konstantin Zacharias and earns the enmity of Zacharias's widow Perla, a social climber who will do anything to shut Gus up. Although the cause of Zacharias's death is never fully revealed in the novel (which is its one weakness, I think) Gus, albeit Dominick, reveals a secret of his own that had been whispered about but never confirmed until now as he's dying of cancer. The result is a bittersweet tale by a master of the inner workings of high society and is both sad and amusing and hard to put down.

This last book of Dunne's was in true spirit if not as finely tuned as his prior works. It was very interesting and more insightful of the author than what we have previously read. I like that he is able to get out his message...maybe not get into the facts of the murder as much as he had originally intended, but he was going to have his say and he did. As I finished the last page, I was overcome with sadness. I felt as if I had just said my final farewell to an old friend. I will certainly miss his work.

As I read Dominick Dunne's last literary gift to us, Shakespeare's phrase from HAMLET, lightly and insistently scampered through my mind. An appropriate farewell, I thought, to Dunne's veiled insights into the rich, infamous, and legendary. Who better than Shakespeare to bid, Adieu..."

"...Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that..."

Thank you, Mr. Dunne. We shall miss you.