The year 1925 was a very good one for American literature — in fact, probably the best ever. The Great Gatsby was published that year, and so was Hemingway‘s short story collection, In Our Time, Willa Cather‘s The Professor’s House, Alain Locke’s landmark Harlem Renaissance anthology, The New Negro, and Sinclair Lewis’ Arrowsmith, which won the Pulitzer Prize. There’s also Theodore Dreiser‘s An American Tragedy, Gertrude Stein‘s The Making of Americans and, I’ll stop there, except to say that The New Yorker magazine was also founded in 1925.
Amidst all these heavyweights, it’s easy to overlook a cheeky little comic novel; but, in 1925, Anita Loos was the author laughing all the way to the bank. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes — a tale of two flappers on the prowl for sugar daddies bearing diamonds — was a runaway bestseller, translated into multiple languages, made into a stage play and a silent film, now lost. In 1953, Loos’ novel was updated and reimagined as a musical, starring Marilyn Monroe as Lorelei Lee, the blondest blonde of them all, and Jane Russell as her snappy brunette side kick, Dorothy.
I’ve only seen the film, so the novel, newly reissued as a Modern Library paperback, was a revelation to me. Think: the zany surrealism of the Marx Brothers crossed with the desire — both sexual and material — of Sex and the City. No wonder James Joyce was one of the novel’s many highbrow modernist fans.
Loos wrote Gentlemen Prefer Blondes in the form of diary entries written by Lorelei: There’s not one continuous plot here so much as there are dozens of vignettes, lots of them satirizing social issues like Prohibition and censorship. Here, for instance, is Lorelei’s description of one of her many suitors, a reformer named Mr. Spoffard. She tells us:
… Mr. Spoffard spends all of his time looking at things that spoil peoples morals. So Mr. Spoffard really must have very very strong morals or else all the things that spoil other peoples morals would spoil his morals. … So I told Mr. Spoffard that I thought that civilization is not what it ought to be and we really ought to have something else to take its place.
Is Lorelei truly naïve or faux? Reading Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is like listening to a Gracie Allen skit on olde time radio: The surface humor derives from how harebrained Gracie, like Lorelei, seems to be, but perhaps the joke is really on anyone who dismisses either of them as just another dizzy dame.
