CHEAT AND CHARMER

The years of the Hollywood blacklist, in an ambitious first novel from the Pulitzer-winning critic and biographer (Louise Bogan, 1986).

The story focuses on three major characters. The former Dinah Milligan is an energetic not-quite-beauty who enters the fringes of the movie world working as a dancer, then radio writer. Dinah marries Jake Lasker, a successful screenwriter and director. Then both their lives are changed by contact with Dinah’s younger sister “Veevi” (Genevieve), a legendary screen goddess who—like Dinah herself—had briefly been a Communist Party member during WWII. Now it’s 1951, and Dinah, called to testify before a congressional committee, saves her husband’s career (and their comfortable lifestyle) by “naming names,” including that of Veevi, living in France with her younger second husband. Dinah is selectively snubbed and ostracized, Jake thrives, and Veevi, dumped for a younger beauty, returns to California. Reputedly a hero of the Resistance along with her late first husband, European director Stefan Ventura, Veevi is now “unemployable”—and her rapacious desire to survive is encapsulated in a remark made to the wayward Jake, comparing herself to Dinah: “She wants things. I want things.” Cheat and Charmer is beautifully imagined and plotted, deftly blending tinselly melodrama with astute commentary on politics, sex, and issues of personal ethics and responsibility. It’s filled with sharply etched supporting characters (among them: Goldwyn-like studio mogul Irv Engel and cosmopolitan mother-figure Dorshka Albrecht). But Frank excels most in rich, deep characterizations of her three principals: heartfelt Dinah, ever trying and failing to do what’s right; feline, unstable Veevi; and appetite-driven, faithless Jake, weighted by his own selfish needs (“If he ever had to go without other women, he would die”), a firm believer in his own flickering integrity.

Think of a really, really good John O’Hara novel. Frank has delivered the goods.