The Blonde Booby Trap

No one can say I’m not thorough.

The day after I saw Paramount’s Harlow, and before writing this review, I bicycled over the hill to the Wellesley Book Stall to see if they still had a copy of Irving Shulman’s “intimate” biography in their lending library. They did. Any time I have to pay fifteen cents a day for a book the result is speed-reading, and I went right down the center of every page. I must say, Mr. Shulman, I had no idea. . . .