The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Alex Brunkhorst
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The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Alex Brunkhorst
Best PDF Ebook The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Alex Brunkhorst
A modern-day Gatsby tale filled with unforgettable characters, The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine is a love letter to Los Angeles and a captivating journey through the gates of its most glamorous estates. Timeless, romantic and utterly absorbing, it is a mesmerizing tale of privilege, identity and the choices we make in the pursuit of power.
The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Alex Brunkhorst - Amazon Sales Rank: #8759100 in Books
- Published on: 2015-11-25
- Format: Large Print
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 1.00" h x 5.70" w x 8.70" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 470 pages
The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Alex Brunkhorst Review "Daisy Buchanan has nothing on Matilda." -Cosmopolitan"Wonderfully appealing, both romantic and moody-reminiscent of Daphne du Maurier." -Kirkus Reviews"A fascinating, bittersweet journey into the heart of modern-day Hollywood."-Bookpage"Brunkhorst's story is full of memorable characters and contains a first-rate plot..... A bittersweet treat."-Publishers Weekly"Though set in modern-day Los Angeles, the style of Brunkhorst's writing and the nuances of her tale hearken back to the glory days of glamorous Hollywood. Readers seeking to lose themselves in a lush, romantic mystery will be richly rewarded here."-Booklist"The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine is an irresistible gem of a book. Part novel of manners, part journey of self-discovery, I was absolutely swept away by this entrancing tale of love and privilege."-Tara Conklin, New York Times bestselling author of The House Girl"Alex Brunkhorst writes as deftly of the lives of the elite as she does of the secrets they and their acolytes keep to stay in power-whatever the cost."-Miranda Beverly-Whittemore, New York Times bestselling author of Bittersweet
About the Author
Alex Brunkhorst is a novelist and a real estate agent specializing in multi-million dollar estates for Los Angeles’s wealthiest professionals. She is also the founder of the popular luxury lifestyle site Bungalux.com. The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine was inspired by Alex’s glimpse into the world of extreme wealth and privilege. She is a graduate of Georgetown University and lives in Los Angeles.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The tinkle of an antique servant bell announced my arrival.The shop was so cluttered with priceless art and centuries-old furniture that maneuvering among them was impossible. I stood in place, hoping someone would come to my rescue. Sixty seconds later, she did. I did not hear the opening or closing of a door, and there was nothing to indicate how she had entered the room. Had she been watching me from behind the ceiling-height Asian room divider she would have seen me grasping for distractions—my cell phone, my reporter's notebook, a feigned interest in a chalk drawing that hung on the wall.Nothing I had read could do Lily Goldman justice. She was in her midfifties, but she could have passed for forty-five. Her eyebrows were tweezed in an arched manner, and her blond hair was expertly coiffed in a tame bouffant that looked as if she had come from a salon. Her face was small and refined save for a prominent nose that belonged on a woman twice her size. It was her most striking feature, one that a less self-confident woman of means would have done away with years ago through plastic surgery."May I help you?" Lily asked. Her voice was surprisingly low, and it had a hint of a lady who smoked too much—though I was certain Lily had never picked up a cigarette in her life. Her breeding was too fine for that.I discreetly rubbed my right hand on my pant leg, hoping to dry it. I reached over an antique oak writing desk, where my proffered hand hung in the air. She looked at it blankly."Yes, I'm Thomas Cleary. I'm a reporter, for the Times"For the first time she made eye contact, and I thought I detected a slightly favorable response, but then:"I hate reporters. I never speak to the press," she said."You must be Ms. Goldman." Phil Rubenstein, my editor, had warned me about Lily Goldman's disdain for journalists before sending me on this mission. I got the distinct impression he thought it would be fruitless.She looked away, focusing on a bronze candlestick in the shape of a bird. She rotated the bird one hundred eighty degrees."Birds don't migrate north, they migrate south. It is autumn, after all. This place is such a mess. I need to speak to the staff. Where did you go to school, Mr. Cleary?""You can call me Thomas. I went to Harvard.""At Harvard I bet they taught you that birds migrate south for the winter, north for the summer.""I recall picking up that tidbit at St. Mary's, my grade school in Milwaukee.""A Catholic boy," she said with a wry smile.She waited for me to respond, but I didn't. I was nervous because I was on what I hoped was my big-break assignment. It was my first and only story on the entertainment beat—a short retrospective on Joel Goldman, who had just passed away.Despite the fact that we were only steps away from one of Los Angeles's most bustling intersections, it was strangely quiet in Lily's shop. I had come here straight from the paper, which was alive with phones ringing, keyboards clicking and frantic deadlines being met. Here, there hadn't been a single phone call, not a single customer. No car had passed. There was a formal English garden in front, but its chaises were bare, and its birdbath and trees were devoid of birds."Were you taught by nuns in Milwaukee? I hear they can be terrible on the self-confidence," Lily said."I was," I said, nervously shifting my position. The reclaimed wood beneath me creaked. "It was Harvard that wiped away the self-confidence, though. The nuns weren't so bad in comparison.""Milwaukee to Harvard. Quite the journey. Let's just hope it was a one-way ticket out.""That's still uncertain," I replied—a gross understatement."And Los Angeles? Is this another layover or your final destination?""Yet to be determined, as well."Lily fixed her eyes directly on me. They were deep set and an extraordinary shade of green. "Do your parents miss you?""My mother passed away a year ago." The memory was still fresh and I forced down the lump that formed in my throat. "And, yes, my dad misses me. I'm an only child. He wants me to come home and work for the local paper. But a hundred thousand in student loans later I can't bear to take a U-turn like that.""I'm sorry to hear about your mother…and the student loans."I detected no judgment in Lily Goldman's words, but I suddenly felt embarrassed by the fact that I had referenced the death of my mother and my student loans in the same sentence."How old are you?" she asked."Twenty-six.""She died young, then?""She was forty-eight. Pancreatic cancer.""It must have been devastating."Few people had taken this level of interest in my life since my mom had died, and I almost forgot why I was there to see her. I wanted to sit down in the distressed leather chair to my right, light a cigarette and tell Lily Goldman everything—about my mother, who shriveled into a skeleton while I toiled on inconsequential stories thousands of miles away in Los Angeles, a city I hated; about my grade school piano teacher, Sister Cecilia, who whacked my knuckles with an iron ruler; about the kids who used to pick me last for Red Rover.And I wanted to tell her about Manhattan. What had happened there.Professor Grandy'sJournalism Rule Number One: Never let your subject change the subject."Enough about my situation. I apologize for taking so much of your time," I said. Even as a young boy I had always shunned attention, particularly from strangers, and here I was escorting Lily into the dark corners of my life rather than visiting hers. "I'm very sorry to hear of your father's passing. We're doing a piece on him, and I was hoping you could give me a quote or an anecdote, something that will make the reader know him better—something to remember him by.""Ah, yes, my father."At first that was all she said. I didn't blame her, because he was that kind of man. Joel Goldman's story was as legendary and epic as the movies he had brought to the screen. He had grown up in Nazi-occupied Poland, escaped the gas chamber, passed through Ellis Island as a boy with only a nickel in his pocket and within ten years catapulted his way from reading scripts in RKO's story department to creating one of the big movie studios.According to Joel Goldman's former business associates, Joel had been known for his micromanagement, and that was putting it kindly. When he stepped on set—which he did almost daily—he practiced lines with his leading ladies, he whispered in his directors' ears, he berated craft services for everything from dry strudel to weak coffee. In the age of typewriters, Joel had been known to tear up entire first acts and shred them to the floor while horrified scriptwriters looked on. He scoured expenses to the penny and had been a ruthless negotiator. As a former studio chairman had anonymously told me over the phone that afternoon, "IfJoel Goldman sat across from you and you dropped a penny on the floor, he would pick it up and put it in his own pocket and consider himself the luckier for it."My strongest trait as a journalist was not in asking, but in listening. So I waited."A hell of a man, my father," Lily finally said. "The first man to produce a movie that made a hundred million dollars. Can you believe it? He started a movie studio when he was only twenty-eight years old. That's unimaginable. Nowadays boys your age are pushing mail carts at talent agencies, not winning Academy Awards. That was the golden age of the cinema, of Hollywood. Bogie and Bacall used to come to our house in Cap d'Antibes for tea."She smiled at the memory, and then I lost her behind the Asian screen. "Have you been to Antibes?" she called."I can't say I have."Lily reemerged. She stared at an imaginary point in the distance through heavily leaded antique glass that distorted the outside garden. "We used to sit on the veranda, watch the boats and sip tea with rum. I know it sounds awful, but it's the most delightful drink. It was there that Bette Davis auditioned for What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? The sea there is incredible, so green—so different than the sea in Los Angeles.""It sounds wonderful," I said."The most exciting time of my life. I often think—well, it sounds silly—but I often think that if we go to Heaven we'll be allowed to live our lives again, fast-forwarding through the bad times, of course." She looked away, as if she might have revealed too much to a stranger. "I would go back there. To those times with my father in the South of France. I have no use for Hollywood. I only care for what it bought us."She glanced at the notebook, unopened in my hand. I hadn't written a thing. It might have been nerves, or maybe Lily's personal memories were like coins she had dropped to the ground by accident. Unlike her father, I could not pick them up while she was steps away from me. It would be stealing."Is that the sort of thing you're looking for?" she asked."What?""The quote.""Yes, that's perfect." I scribbled to catch up. "I figured as much. Intimacy—it's what we're all looking for."She focused squarely on me again, this time homing in on my clothes. I had picked up the shirt several years earlier in Cambridge at a discount store and had ironed the shirt and pants myself that morning. The result was deep creasing that was worse than if I had let the dryer have its way with them."How does the paper allow its reporters to dress like they just came from a late night of too much drink?"Lily wore all brown—sweater, knee-length skirt and two-inch pumps. But even in its singular color and simplicity the outfit bled money. The ensemble brought to mind a Parisian tailor on hands and knees with pins in her teeth. The only pizazz in the outfit was a substantial ivory necklace. I had only known Lily for a few minutes, but it already made sense. Diamonds could still be bought on the open market; elephant tusks could not.Lily made a small adjustment to my collar, and her hands rested on my upper spine. It had been a long time since a woman had touched me, and I tightened.As a reporter I was trained to see the tiniest of clues—those fragments and fingerprints others could only see under a microscope. There was, at that moment, a brief spark in Lily's green eyes. And then, just as quickly as her eyes bloomed, they withered and went almost black.I had thought that Lily had been the one to bare her soul in this interview, but instead she had set the course so I would be the subject who revealed too much."You're a very handsome young man. Don't let poor clothing choices get in the way of that," she said, before calling out to the other room, "Ethan, come here."A few seconds later a slight man around my age entered through the French doors in the back."Yes, Ms. Goldman." He spoke in little more than a whisper, and if his slim-fitting attire was off-the-rack it was off an expensive one."Thomas here is going to be attending dinner this evening. Please arrange with Kurt to pick him up.""Thank you for the invitation," I interjected. "But I have a deadline, and I'm not exactly the fastest typist.""That's one thing you'd think the nuns would have done right," Lily said. "It's a fabulous group—some of the guests worked with my father and are quite newsworthy in their own rights. I promise you won't be disappointed."In truth, I generally would have forgone a dinner party invitation, but if there was any opportunity for this dinner to beef up my story on Joel Goldman I knew I had to attend. I gave Ethan my address in Silver Lake, an area on the east side of Los Angeles known as a bastion for artists—all of them hipper than I. Ethan arranged for me to be picked up at seven o'clock sharp."Good. It's decided, then," Lily said. "Thomas, I'll see you soon. Ethan, make sure everything goes smoothly."Lily would soon disappear behind the Asian screen, but just before she did, she turned around and set her eyes on me one more time."Once again, I'm sorry about your mother, Thomas. You must be terribly lonely."Before I could respond, Lily had vanished among the antiques.TwoAnd so that was how it began. Simply, without the fanfare one comes to expect from an evening that turns life's course from left to right. I called Phil Rubenstein to let him know I would be late with the story. Rubenstein hated slipped deadlines, but once I informed him that I would be joining Lily and a "newsworthy" cast for dinner, he let this one slide a few hours to accommodate the extra research. He then shocked me by changing the story from a one-column to two.I had only one sport coat—a sales-rack special from a big-and-tall store in Milwaukee. I was tall and broad in the way Midwestern Germanic men are, but I was not big enough to fill out the coat properly, and its fit had always been loose. I was hoping Lily wouldn't notice. I splashed on some aftershave I had got for college graduation, and I slid my notebook and tape recorder into my jacket's interior pocket.At precisely seven o'clock, my building's downstairs buzzer rang. An Asian man of about fifty, with an expression stern as his handshake, stood at the door."I'm Kurt," he said in the same manner one might use to greet a girl not attractive enough to sleep with."I'm Thomas, from the Times" I added that last part as an afterthought, as if it somehow legitimized me.Kurt opened the back door of a silver Mercedes sedan and I slid in. It smelled of new leather. I suspected Lily was the type of woman whose cars always smelled of new leather. An Evian water and, coincidentally or not, today's Los Angeles Times rested in the seat pocket. I opened the paper to the Local section. My one-column article on the proposed 405 Freeway expansion was on page three.I put the paper back in the seat pocket as we headed west down Sunset Boulevard, toward the sea, as Lily Goldman had called it. I had never been driven by a private driver before and I didn't know if I was meant to make conversation or sit in silence. I decided to take Kurt's cue. He didn't address me once during the hour-long journey; he listened to classical music on the radio and never glanced into the rearview mirror unless it was to change lanes.
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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful. Brunkhorst has a deft turn of phrase that is tight and doesn't waste words. Yet it also delivers some wonderful descriptive ... By J. Hamby I'm bumping this up to a 4 star from a three for a couple of reasons. First, Brunkhorst has a deft turn of phrase that is tight and doesn't waste words. Yet it also delivers some wonderful descriptive elements that start this story off to a bang. Second, because one of the elements is simply not to my taste. It is not bad in itself and certainly could appeal to people who do care for that type of stuff (i.e. instant romance). And third, it is pretty fast paced and the setting seems, well if not authentic (I have no idea if it is or not) nicely compelling to read about. It has plenty of glamour without feeling like the author is just dropping labels to create a involving sense of place.But it has flaws. First, there is plenty to give an authentic feel to the main character's place in the modern press. And yet at the same time, though there are plenty of references to put this in our current time, the huge incursions of modern technology on said media world, seem too vague and never really pressing save for a few early mentions. This in itself would not be a huge detraction save for the fact that as the main character finds himself delving deeper into the mystery that is Matilda, the story becomes a bit 'soft', lacking depth and things seem to fall into a single path way too easily. Having a bit more of a harder edged world would possibly have balanced that and even centered a story that just seemed to lose the wonderful punch the author started out with.I also found the romance element too sudden and almost glib. Without spoilers, Matilda and the author instantly coming together pretty much ignores or slides over some the oddness of getting involved with someone like her. There is too much of a 'this is so right' gooey cloying naivete about the whole matter that, when coupled with the otherwise smart self-awareness of the narrator, comes off as almost creepy.For me the romance dragged it down too much. I think it would have been more interesting if the main character went after the mystery of Matilda and not Matilda herself. The how did Matilda come to be is much much more interesting than who Matilda is. She seems flat and borders on being simpering. She is uninteresting as a character and lacks any real depth to explain why Thomas so instantly and perfectly falls for her.Overall, I felt it was well written, but just became rather bland a little more than halfway through. Thomas was very interesting but Matilda not so much. A problem with the type of book it turns into. A romance that is rather inexplicable and a boring one rather fast.But I do love parts of it. Brunkhorst captures the feeling of Hollywood luxury in a way that I found engrossing. Reminding of how the late Dominick Dunne used to write (fictionally) about the rich and privileged. I would love to see her focus more on that type of story and less on the too sweet and rather trite romance part.
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful. Brunkhorst has a special flair and voice, an author to watch out for I think By Cheryl M-M Sometimes I come upon certain authors and I just know they have an exceptional talent. Brunkhorst is one of those authors, she has a certain je ne sais quoi.I was really surprised when I read the word internet about half a chapter in, I was certain the scene was set somewhere between 1920 and 1950. The golden age of movies and film stars. It has a specific feel to it. Very Gatsby meets Hollywood.Thomas finds his destiny inexplicably linked to and determined by Lily. She becomes not only a source, but also the door into a completely new world for Thomas. The world of the rich, the famous and the powerful. The people who pull the strings in town.It is never made quite clear in the book, whether Lily has a hidden agenda. Did she know what would happen? Was it her wish to see the golden bird freed from her gilded cage? Is Thomas merely the patsy or can Lily see something in him that is special enough to make her want to support him.Thomas finds this new world fascinating, despite being on the boundary of it, and he craves more of it and time with his new acquaintances. This new world leads him to Matilda.Matilda is an enigma, a young girl trapped in a time warp. She is kept hidden from the world like Rapunzel in a tower awaiting her prince. When he meets Matilda, Thomas forgets about his new connections and everything pales in comparison. No threat of failure, destruction or fall from grace can keep him away from the mysterious and innocent young woman. He is beguiled to the point of not being able to think straight.What happens next is the inevitability of life, of reality and of fairy-tales stripped of their mysticism.Brunkhorst is definitely an author to watch. I think it is safe to say this won't be the last we hear from her. She is an exquisite writer with the very rare talent of surrounding a story with an aura of a specific era. So much so that it never really leaves you as a reader, this feeling of being inside a story within a story. Watching and listening to something unfold in one era whilst being convinced it is taking place in another.I received a free copy of this book, courtesy of MiraUk and Harlequin UK.
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful. Every man has his price By Nitty's Mom Debut author Alex Brunkhorst certainly understands this territory and is able to fashion an evocative tale about the super wealthy Hollywood elite.Thomas Cleary is from a hard working Milwaukee family, who makes good and is able to attend Harvard University. While at college , Thomas decides to choose a profession that will not make him wealthy, Journalism. Now a reporter for the Los Angeles Times, he is sent on assignment to get some quotes for the obituary of a legendary film producer. Thomas makes an immediate connection with the film producer’s middle age daughter, Lily, who invites him into her inner circle. This inner circle includes a famous movie actress and her husband, a music mogul and his wife and David Duplaine “undisputedly Hollywood's most powerful man”. Nothing can prepare Thomas for the opulence that awaits him once he gains access into the world of Hollywood’s very rich and famous. He travels from one wealthy enclave to A- list functions. The glitter rubs off on him as well, as Thomas is now in the ideal position to cover the insider stories. When Thomas meets and falls in love with the mysterious and sheltered Matilda Duplaine, he comes to realize that his college professor might have been correct. “If a story’s handed to you on a silver platter, it's either not worth eating or will cause food poisoning later on”The author is at her best with the poetic description of both places and characters’ feelings. Thomas is an appealing narrator with a good heart, who longs to gain back some of the respect he lost from a previous plagiarism scandal while working at the New York Times. He also bears the scars from a relationship with a wealthy classmate who broke his heart. Always being the one on the outside looking in, how much will he now risk for love?It was interesting to watch Thomas, as he slowly begin to understand the essence of who Matilda is and untangle the secrets those who care for her have hidden in their attempt to protect her. Unfortunately, the love story itself did not match the intensity of the rest of the novel. I could not believe such a seemingly intelligent man would be so blinded by love, that he would not have realized certain foibles sooner. Perhaps that was the author’s intention, however, it never felt heartfelt or authentic. Still there was a lot to enjoy in this evocative and classically styled page-turner.
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The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine (Thorndike Press Large Print Basic Series), by Alex Brunkhorst
