Books: Let's All Kill Constance by Ray Bradbury (2003)

“Opening in 1960 and our storyteller, who has returned to his old Venice, California apartment while his wife is away, gets an unexpected visit from aging Hollywood actor Constance Rattigan. She hands him two things: The Los Angeles Telephone Directory, 1900 – what both call a sort of Book of the Dead that contains early Hollywood movers and shakers (most who are now dead) and her own personal address book. Only one book has Constance’s name in them. The Los Angeles Telephone Directory, 1900, was left at her doorstep by some unknown person at her home and Constance see this as a message –that someone wants her dead. A skeptic at first, our chronicler decides to visit the listed people in order, all of whom die under mysterious circumstances shortly thereafter. Suspiciously, each of them claims to have met Constance, whom seemly is one-step ahead of the narrator. Is Constance the true murderer, or is someone seeking to sever all ties to her associates before finally killing her? The only way to solve this mystery is with the help of long-time friend and private investigator Elmo Crumley.”

 

Let's All Kill Constance is the third and final mystery novel by Ray Bradbury, following up on 1985’s Death is a Lonely Business and 1990’s A Graveyard for Lunatics. As with the previous books, an unnamed Los Angeles based writer, who bears a striking resemblance to the author, narrates it. As with two previous novels, the author offers some subtle references to his better known work, such as Fahrenheit 451, where in chapter 16, the protagonist muses on the possibility of people using books to start fires in the future. And someone calls him “the Martian.”

All three books are weird, but Let’s All Kill Constance takes the cake. It’s anything but ordinary, though, which reminds me how much fiction and –in almost any genre- has become a bit dull, predictable, almost vanilla. The tales coda is about what fame and fortune can do to a person, but that’s old hat in Hollywood. But it’s a nice reminder still that looks -and not necessarily talent- shakes Hollywood today and Yesteryear more than anything else.

So I enjoyed the series, with its ghosts, murder, and the glamour of old Hollywood.