55 pages • 1 hour read
Melanie BenjaminA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Truman is in Los Angeles on October 17, 1975, acting in the movie Murder by Death. Hollywood life has proved more arduous than expected; the shooting schedule is “ungodly.” He’s thrilled to receive a call from the New York gossip columnist Liz Smith, and he’s even more delighted when she tells him about what’s happened since the Esquire story came out. His glee that Ann Woodward had a copy of the magazine in her hand when she was found dead is enough to shock even a hardened gossip writer. She warns him that the swans have vowed to cut him, the Paleys will destroy him, and Slim wants to sue him. Truman replies that this will all blow over, and that “great literature” allows for different interpretations. Liz tells him that she’s going to write a piece on the affair for another magazine, and a giddy Truman starts calling the swans, only to realize that none of them—not even Babe—will take his calls. Suddenly hit by a wave of panic and perhaps worse, he sobs, throws himself on the floor, and vomits.
Babe reads “La Côte Basque 1965” on the morning of October 17, 1975, in her New York apartment. It has a physical effect on her, leaving her off-balance and weighted down. She hadn’t believed the story of Ann’s death when she heard it, because Babe thinks of Truman as a serious writer, the author of In Cold Blood. Having read “La Côte Basque,” Babe suddenly understands. She knows what it’s like to be betrayed and humiliated, but she never expected Truman would cause her to feel that way. After recovering her composure, Babe calls Slim and tells her to read it. In the meantime, she goes over the story again, finding it more “gruesome” than the most graphic scenes in In Cold Blood. He has taken their private confidences and exposed them to the world, often word-for-word. Sidney Dillon is a clear stand-in for Bill Paley, and he even as the most beautiful wife in world, “Cleo.” The story from the piece that wounds her the most is the “slovenly mess” of the night that Sidney brought home a woman who was on her period and had to clean the sheets himself before Cleo got home.
When Slim calls back, she claims not to know who Sidney Dillon is supposed to be, sputtering in general indignation and a sudden feeling for Ann Woodward. Babe abruptly ends the conversation, desperate for the cigarettes that she is no longer allowed to smoke. She glances at a box of lethal pills, considering following Ann’s example, then remembers that Bill had taken them away. She leaves the magazine for Bill to read, then throws herself on her bed in despair. Truman’s betrayal leaves her feeling more empty and alone than ever before—and she had given him so much of herself.
That evening, Babe and Bill have a brief, general conversation about the story, and Bill says he’s sorry he ever set eyes on Truman. They never speak of him or the Esquire piece again.
Truman is sent home early from the movie set on October 18. He answers the phone with a “practiced smirk,” identifying himself as a “literary assassinator” and appearing to revel in his newfound infamy. But the calls he wants—from the swans—don’t come. In a last-ditch attempt to reach out to Babe, Truman asks to speak to Bill instead. Bill claims not to have even read the story—he fell asleep, and someone threw the magazine away—and hangs up on Truman. To anyone who will listen, Truman pleads ignorance as to why the swans are angry. He returns to New York like a “potentate,” more famous than ever. He publishes another Answered Prayers excerpt in Esquire and toys with the idea of throwing another ball, but only with the “fabulous people.” He throws himself into the club scene at Studio 54 and tries to convince himself that it’s a worthy substitute for socializing with the swans and Diana Vreeland. Occasionally, he bumps into one of them. Mostly, he dreams about Babe and drinks.
Truman sees Babe one more time, at Quo Vadis, though he almost doesn’t recognize her. She is there with her sister Betsey, and Truman approaches them. Truman tells him that he did it all for her. As she looks up at him, he realizes she is the only person he has ever loved. She speaks so quietly that Truman cannot be sure of what he hears, but he thinks she said thank you. Then she and Betsey move away. He passes out, sobbing, much to the disgust of the restaurant owner.
Babe looks back bitterly on her life, thinking of it as a wayward fairy tale. She remembers the stories she and Truman wove for themselves noting with some irony that Bill is the one who will be at her side when she dies. Part of her is still desperate for Truman. To Slim, Babe says that they “betrayed” Truman. The excerpts from Answered Prayers were a test, and they failed. Slim thinks Babe is being too kind to Truman. Babe—stoic to the end, Slim notices—changes the subject to the plans she’s made for her own funeral. She remains calm while Slim starts sobbing. As she leaves, Babe whispers to her that she’s a “survivor.” As Slim embraces Bill on her way out of the apartment, she wonders what Babe meant by the comment. She looks forward to a “dull, dismal” future without Babe and Truman.
Babe knows she will die the minute she wakes up that morning. She puts on her makeup, as though preparing herself for a battle. She invites her family to come into her room, yet hears herself ask, “Where’s Truman?” She regrets asking the question while surrounded by her family, worried that they won’t think that she found them good enough. Then, she dies.
Bill holds Babe’s hand for hours after she dies; she looks like an “Italian sculpture.” He knows that she died hating him, but is grateful that she allowed him to be there anyway.
Truman reads about Babe’s death in The New York Times, and thinks she would be pleased by the obituary’s attention to her style as a form of artistry. He is not invited to the funeral, nor did he expect to be. Still, he can’t stay away. On the morning of her funeral he takes a cab all the way to the Christ Episcopal Church in Manhasset, Long Island. He wraps himself in a cloak and conceals himself behind a tree while he watches the mourners and drinks vodka. He notes what they are wearing and speculates about what they might be talking about; after all, he was the one who created them and “fooled” them. He mourns their impossible love in literary and cinematic terms—Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde, but also Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable at the end of Gone with the Wind. He asks the cab driver if he’s single, but the cab driver isn’t interested.
After the ceremony, the mourners gather at Kiluna Farm, where Babe’s presence is everywhere—this is the last party she planned. Pamela says she’s surprised Truman didn’t come, and Gloria claims Bill would have thrown him out. Their husbands sit protectively around Bill, shielding him from the too-enthusiastic consolations of the women at the gathering. Slim recounts what Babe had said about Truman in their last visit, just before she died. Nearly three years after the Esquire piece, the swans still have competing views about him. Gloria claims never to have loved him, and calls Babe a “softhearted idiot.” C.Z. remains circumspect—he had always been a lot of fun, if you knew how to keep it light with him. Gloria says Babe was lucky to die when she was still relatively young, and all the swans discuss Bill’s prospects for remarriage and Truman’s declining health, evident every time he appears on television. Slim says Truman will outlive them all. The chapter ends with the swans thinking back to images of Truman and Babe together, images of times they cannot get back.
Bill and Slim meet at La Côte Basque in 1984. They speculate about Gloria’s recent death, and Slim notes to herself that she died (by heart attack or by suicide) just two years after she had expressed her envy of Babe’s early departure. Even at age 83, Bill proposes having sex with Slim, just like they used to do when Babe was away; Slim can’t help but remind him of that now. They have both heard about Truman’s recent death at the home of Joanne Carson—Johnny Carson’s ex-wife—in Los Angeles. Joanne had told Slim that Truman’s last words were “Beautiful Babe,” but Bill doesn’t want to hear it. Bill wants to believe that he and Slim had a “great love,” but she doesn’t see it that way. She asks Bill if he ever told Truman the story of when they had sex and she was on her period. They both say they didn’t. Slim isn’t so sure that Babe didn’t know, remembering the “survivor” comment. If anyone had a great love, it was Truman and Babe, even if Truman decided to reveal the ugly truth of their circle. Slim proposes a toast to Babe, Truman, Hemingway, and all the other “glittering” ghosts of the past, but Bill only echoes the sentiments about Babe.
The penultimate section of the Epilogue juxtaposes the dying words and sensations of Truman and Babe, as they each express their love for each other. Eventually, the images and memories merge with each other, and one word remains: Beauty. The final section returns to the fairy tale that had opened the novel: The swans swim away from the sprite, and even the lead swan vanishes. The world itself seems to disappear.
Although the relationships between Truman and his swans had been cooling since the publication of In Cold Blood in 1966, the appearance of “La Côte Basque 1965” nine years later brings the fairy tale to an abrupt end. The “ugliness” that Truman’s story depicts in the pages of a national magazine parallels the emergence of the worst parts of Truman’s own personality—his cruel glee that the death of Ann Woodward might bring him more notoriety—as well as the cancer that ravages Babe’s body. The conversations are more serious—and more likely to turn to the memories of the past. The private reflections of the swans, rendered in Benjamin’s free indirect discourse, implicitly acknowledge that Truman is not responsible for destroying them; what he has done, and what they find unforgivable, is that he put the destruction in writing so that people as far away as Keokuk, Iowa, could be privy to their secrets. He showed that the duality of their world had been there all along, even when it was easier not to see it. Friendship was always betrayal; wealth always had its price; and fluid self-invention was always in tension with certain immovable facts of reality.
To a certain extent, the rendering of the novel’s main themes becomes simpler in the final chapters. The Price of Beauty, Wealth, and Fame, for instance, is made abundantly clear as Truman’s newfound prominence destroys him from the inside out, making him cruel to himself as well as to others. When they meet in 1984, Bill and Slim continually allude to the things they’ve lost in their rise to social prominence. In many ways, Babe pays the ultimate price. Benjamin uses free indirect discourse to render Babe’s reaction to “La Côte Basque 1965” and her processing of her own illness and death to devastating effects. Even though she is one of the only characters in the book whose social position was assured at birth, Babe is also the character who sees most clearly the costs of maintaining that position. By the end of the novel, she appears resigned to the way she has spent her life; she had reasons for doing the things she did, and for acting with composure and grace until the very end. Her commitment to these ideals, passed down from her mother, give her ending a poignant privacy. She keeps some things just to herself. She never reveals whether she knew that Slim was the woman having sex with Bill on her period, and even her last words to Truman remain a matter of speculation. Her cryptic pronouncements, such as calling Slim a “survivor,” are her legacy to her friends. Perhaps most importantly, in Benjamin’s rendering at least, Babe dies still loving Truman best of all.
None of the relationships in the novel fully escape The Dynamics of Friendship and Betrayal. The blatant, public betrayal the swans feel at the publication of the story has to do with the fact that Truman has represented them in the process of betraying each other. However, Babe feels particularly wronged even though there is very little of her in the story itself. No one would mistake Babe for Lady Coolbirth, and certainly not for any of the mistresses and murderesses in the story. Babe is passingly linked to Cleo, the beautiful wife of the lecherous Sidney Dillon, but she is not specifically a target of Truman’s satire. What she realizes upon reading the story, however, is that Truman appears to have misunderstood her connection to Bill, even though—or because—the three of them had all been such good friends. Bill’s story was always Babe’s, if only because Bill, as Babe puts it, was not a storyteller, just as Babe is incapable of telling lies. Truman betrayed the façade by treating it as artificial, when it was actually part of their deepest truth.
The theme of the Fluidity of Personal Identity structures much of the ending as well. Truman’s desperate attempts to reinvent himself after the swans as a figure of late 1970s popular culture, and his attempts to convince himself that being at Studio 54 is as congenial as being on the Guinness’s yacht, demonstrate the toll that the performance of the self takes on a person. He clearly remains haunted by his own capacity for cruelty, which informs his feigned disbelief that the swans ever trusted him, a writer. If, on the surface, Truman appears to be reveling in his newfound fame—or infamy—even answering the phone with a flippant reference to his part in Ann Woodward’s death, the devastation he feels is visible in his body—and broadcast on television.
The penultimate section of the Epilogue, however, deploys the fluidity of personal identity in another way, as Benjamin imagines a merging between Truman and Babe. The author juxtaposes invented versions of each of their last words and thoughts, which express love for each other. Without any narrative intervention, the thoughts appear to be simultaneous, as though Babe and Truman are dying together, rather than estranged by betrayal and time. Soon, however, the quote marks drop away, and the text no longer distinguishes between Babe and Truman. They leave the text as a single, shared consciousness, finally achieving the beauty of perfect understanding.
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