Brooks on Books: Groucho Marx, Detective series by Ron Goulart

As a big Marx Brothers fan, I'm always saddened to think of there being no more of their movies for us to enjoy. Yes, even after watching something like "The Big Store," I still wish there were more. This idea of there being more Marx Brothers--particularly my fave, Groucho--is so appealing to me that I devour these books by Ron Goulart. They're not great mysteries, they're not dazzling examples of prose, and they're not bonafide Marx Brothers canon. But they are entertaining enough, and Goulart gets just enough of the idea of Groucho across to keep me reading.

The books are always short (about 200 pages of not-so-dense text), fast-moving, and light. So it's easy to burn through them in a few days. The conceit is that Groucho Marx, the actor--not Julius Marx, which was his actual name, but Groucho, as everyone refers to him and knows him here), after playing a detective in a radio series, becomes a bit of an amateur sleuth through circumstances. He keeps getting caught up in high crimes and murders involving the worlds of Hollywood, radio, and even Broadway, all the while cracking wise and acting like--well, acting like a sanitized version of the legendary character we know from those movies.

See, Goulart is not interested in creating novels based on the "real" man--and why should he? We want to see the character of Groucho, and that's what the author is shooting for. Therefore, any references to Groucho's family are few and far between. In fact, any suggestion of a personal life outside his interactions with the characters in the books is quite rare. His professional life is significant only as it serves as a plot device to introduce a new milieu or provide an excuse for a new movie set on which there can be a kidnapping, blackmail, murder, or all three.

And this Groucho is not as cruel or biting as the man we read about in the biographies. There are many instances in which he slips in a sincere compliment or kind word for his friends in the midst of his one-liners. He is genuinely committed to helping people out and righting wrongs. Plus, in each book, he encounters perhaps dozens of people who recognize him, even without his fake mustache, and have these surreal bits of conversation with him. Groucho makes a sarcastic remark every now and then, but his humor is mostly directed at himself, and he rarely snaps at the civilian.

Oddly, in most of these asides, the people either don't get his jokes (shades of Margaret Dumont) or sort of patronizingly acknowledge them while persisting in getting their own desired goal from the situation. Similarly, all the people who deal with Groucho on a day to day basis are unimpressed with him and don't even act like he's funny. Now, Goulart's dialogue isn't all "Duck Soup," and much of it is corny, but some of it is funny enough that one would expect it to be pretty amusing when Groucho says it. Yet people just kind of go on with their lives. This is understandable, as it must be pretty exasperating to deal with someone who jokes around so constantly, but it has the effect of making Groucho seem like less of a star in his own books. He's like a wacky uncle that thinks he's hilarious but is more tolerated than enjoyed by his loves ones.

Goulart must think it would be exasperating to read an entire novel in the voice of his Groucho. So he gives us Frank Denby, an ex-newspaperman (who conveniently keeps a host of contacts in the press, the police force, and other realms that might aid someone solving a murder) and radio and movie scriptwriter. In the series debut, "Groucho Marx, Master Detective," Denby writes Groucho's radio program, and thus begins a partnership which endures right up through the most recent "Groucho Marx, King of the Jungle."

Denby narrates for us, which leads to some awkward stretches. Each time Groucho does something not in the presence of Denby, a chapter will begin with something like, "Groucho later told me," and Denby continues to recount in staggering detail what did in fact happen. The character of Denby himself is a bit awkward, too. He is a bit of a wise-acre himself, and his frequent jokes sort of compete with Groucho. The novels' weakest, least genuine moments come when Goulart depicts Frank's relationship with Jane, a sophisticated but accessible woman who is a susccessful comic strip cartoonist. They often come off as more cloying than sweet, but Jane is a key figure, providing a sounding board and often more concrete help to the dynamic duo of Groucho and Frank.

One notable stylistic technique Goulart uses is frequent interruption, signified by dashes. Characters frequently cut each other off, not out of spite, but just to keep things going. I suppose the idea is to give the prose an urgency and to make the dialogue seem fast-paced and crackling, but I often wonder if it's done just as much because Goulart can't think of a way to finish the puns and sometimes-creaky wordplay he sets up.

So how does this all become entertaining reading material? Well, as I said, the idea of there being more Groucho is almost irresistible, and this version is Groucho enough for me--as long as I'm borrowing the books from the library and not paying full price for them. You have to give Goulart a break for some of the humor here because a lot of those classic lines from the Marx Brothers films come off a lot different on the printed page as opposed to out of Groucho's mouth. I don't laugh out loud when I'm reading these books, as I do when I watch, say, "Horsefeathers," but I'm amused often enough to accept this Grouchoverse.

It's also fun to read stories set in the late 1930s, early 1940s Hollywood era. It's odd at first that Goulart throws in some real-life personalities and references to actual events and films into his mostly fictional settings. Basil Rathbone, say, and a Basil Rathbone type apparently coexist in this world, and that's kind of odd to think about. But don't think about it too much, and you get used to it.

By "King of the Jungle," which involves a Tarzan pastiche as the center of the plot, Goulart has settled into a comfortable formula, as the characters frequently comment on events of the previous books--or characters from previous books reappear. There's even a running joke about how often Frank gets bonked on the head. It's all a comfortable, friendly atmosphere, with a kindly, good-natured Groucho who is a great friend to a warm, loving couple. And, oh, yeah, they help innocent people and foil guilty ones.

I'd recommend this to Groucho fans, but I'd check out the library or try to get a cheap copy first. If you like one, you'll like them all; but if you can't get into this version of the movie legend in one novel, you never will. Me, I'll read as many of these as Goulart writes, but I'll get them at the library, and then I'll pop in one of the old movies if I feel the need for the "real" Groucho Marx.