New Book Highlights Marilyn Monroe: Being True To “Herself”

The blonde bombshell standing over the subway grate with her sexy white halter dress billowing up from the gust of air beneath is so ingrained in our culture that even Gen Alphas know the likeness and legend of Marilyn Monroe.

You would think that by now, every configuration and permutation of her story has been told, but M.J. Moore has disproved that theory.

In his new, much-praised novel, “Herself (A Novel of the Summer of 1962)” the author pinpoints the last two months of the actress’s life and captures a woman who does not resemble the iconic 1953 Monroe. According to the foreword, Moore’s version “makes hash out of the unworthy, idiotic, and persistent idea that Marilyn is a perennial victim.”

A combination of historical fiction and biographical fact, Monroe’s story is recounted by octogenarian Eddie Leo Shaughnessy, who, as a young, recent NYU grad, was hired by the movie star to help write her autobiography.

Straus Media sat down with Moore to talk about Marilyn Monroe’s unwavering fan devotion, her real personality v. the dumb blonde image, and why people would rather believe she is a victim rather than the truth.

What was the impetus for the book?

I have thought about Marilyn for years, and I have been intrigued by her resilience, her moxie, her grit. And I always knew, intuitively, that the stereotypes about her, the little girl lost, the whispery voice, the come-hither flirty business were all theatrical. Shtick. Everything I suspected turned out to be true.

Why is this Marilyn book different than all the others?

I put a spotlight on her love of music and reading, her guts to establish, at age 30, a production company from which two very fine pictures resulted: “Bus Stop” and “The Prince and the Showgirl.” She studied voice with great devotion. And her library...wherever she moved, 450-plus books followed.

Do you think that if Marilyn had lived, she would have succeeded at turning her image around?

Yes. I think she would have found a lot of wide-open opportunities as Hollywood loosened up. Changes were happening in the first half of the decade, and the whole culture was blowing up in the latter half. She was cutting-edge without realizing it.

In ‘62, she went into the final photo shoots with a willingness to be more than provocative in a dumbbell, Playboy-centerfold style. She was looking for serious material. She was in her appearance very dramatically, letting go of the ‘50s blonde bombshell.

Why did you avoid death conspiracy material, even though that’s what many people gravitate to?

That whole lurid tabloid Marilyn and the Kennedys. I wanted this novel to have nothing to do with all those ugly and unprovable storylines.

How can knowing about her last two months on Earth working with Eddie Leo help change society’s perception of Marilyn?

This is a great, unexplored season in her life. Her move back to LA [from Manhattan], getting fired from “Something’s Got To Give,” then rehired at a much higher salary, with script and director approval. She turned a defeat into a fresh victory. But we don’t hear about that. And so, I thought this is where I can go.

I hope that the novel is so reliable in terms of its historical and biographical facts that the narrator presents readers with a convincing portrait of the real integrity and the core of the authentic Marilyn--the artist, capital A, the striver, capital S.

The character of Eddie Leo is 14 years Marilyn’s junior. Why make her assistant/biographer a young man of 22? Why not a man her age/older? Or a woman?

To anchor the novel, I followed my instincts, which were [to tell the story via] a man, at the end of his long life, remembering back to the summer after he graduated. He moves back home to LA, and thanks to his father’s connections, he’s shoehorned into this job opportunity. From there, the whole story flowed.

How did calling Marilyn “Herself” come about?

My imagination. My sense of how she might come up with a unique way of signing off on handwritten letters, especially to Eddie Leo. And maybe it’s the Irish in me. I’ve often heard that locution about big male personalities: “Oh, Himself is at it again.” I just thought, let’s make it Herself.

During his albeit short term as Marilyn’s assistant, what do you think Eddie Leo learned about work, resilience, or even himself?

That you can reinvent yourself even if you have been repeatedly told you’re supposed to be like that or be like this. You can step away from what’s expected and try something new.

She wanted her autobiography to be titled, “I Tried And Tried Again,” which makes perfect sense because she did.

Eddie Leo helping Marilyn write her story doesn’t materialize. What does the unfinished autobiography symbolize?

An unfinished life. An unfinished career.

Marilyn and Eddie Leo have a brief encounter that today would result in a trip to HR. Why bring that in?

It emerged organically out of their love of music, playing some very slow, incredibly inspired, erotic blues from Duke Ellington’s “Newport” album. They start dancing, they’ve had wine, and they, most of all, have been really communicating with their words, thoughts, and ideas. There’s a mutual admiration. It’s about two people responding to each other in the moment.

Why, after eight decades, are people still fascinated by this woman?

Her movies are important and fascinating, but her real, immortal, perennial impact is that she mastered how to exude in front of the camera.

My favorite line [that sums up Monroe] is by Joan Didion and her husband, John Gregory Dunne, from their movie “Up Close and Personal.” Robert Redford plays a TV news producer, and Michelle Pfeiffer stumbles her way into the news business, but once the camera goes on, she comes to life. Redford says, “She eats the lens.”

You don’t need to see Marilyn’s movies to react to that tremendous, strangely powerful charisma.

Lorraine Duffy Merkl is the author of the novel “The Last Single Woman In New York City.”