The seventh veil of Salome

Moreno-Garcia (Silver Nitrate) returns to the world of moviemaking for this layered if schematic story of a Mexico City receptionist whose exotic looks land her the lead role in the eponymous 1950s Hollywood epic. Vera Larios has no professional acting experience, which infuriates costar Nancy Hartley, who was certain the role was hers and that it would have been her big break. While Nancy schemes to knock Vera out of the picture, Moreno-Garcia unfurls a parallel story line in which the biblical Salome navigates power struggles in her uncle Herod's court through stratagems not unlike those wielded by Vera and Nancy. Moreno-Garcia shines a light on the racial and gender politics of postwar Hollywood and intertwines her tale with enough real history to please Tinseltown obsessives, though her stock characters are straight out of central casting: in addition to the vulnerable ingenue and bitter bit player, there are a vain male lead, martinet director, and harried screenwriter. This isn't the author's best. Agent: Eddie Schneider, JABberwocky Literary. (Aug.)

A bitter actor goes to war with a Hollywood newcomer in this historical novel. It's 1955, and Hollywood can't stop talking aboutThe Seventh Veil of Salome, a film that its beleaguered screenwriter calls "one of those sword-and-sandal flicks" and a "picture with a camel, a palace, and a garbage plot thinly inspired by a Biblical story." The film has been in the works for years; one of the reasons is that its director has had trouble finding an actor for the title role, the first-century princess who plays a part in the New Testament. The director finally settles on a 21-year-old Mexican newcomer named Francisca Severa Larios Gavaldón, whom the studio renames Vera Larios. Vera's rapid ascent irks Nancy Hartley, "a professional party girl more than she was an actress," who nevertheless badly wanted the role herself. Nancy also wants Jay Rutland, a handsome jazz pianist who has his eyes set on Vera. Nancy is a racist with a nasty temperament--"God help the person who incurred her wrath"--which means she has no intention of letting Vera go unpunished. Meanwhile, Vera tries to adjust to her new life in Hollywood, deal with her overbearing mother, and avoid the unwanted attentions of a sex-pest actor who believes he's entitled to her body. Moreno-Garcia's novel is told from a variety of perspectives, and she captures each voice perfectly, with dialogue that's artfully and subtly reminiscent of Golden Age movies. She also proves to be an expert at building suspense--she telegraphs that Vera and Nancy's rivalry will end explosively, but still manages to end the novel with a genuine surprise. The author has proved with previous books likeMexican Gothic (2020) andVelvet Was the Night (2021) that she's a master storyteller who can move among genres with ease, so it's no surprise that this foray into historical fiction is intelligent, exciting, and written absolutely beautifully. A rousing success: Moreno-Garcia proves, once again, that she is a master of her craft. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.