When a mysterious virus descends on New York City, leaving its "victims" inhibition-free, irresponsible, and happy, acting mayor Jim Rowan has his hands full trying to prevent the epidemic's spread and keep the city running
Vincent McHugh's 1943 novel is full of snappy patter that wouldn't be out of place in a Spencer Tracy/Katharine Hepburn movie, and saucy sexuality unusual for the 1940s and titillating even today. Anyone familiar with the work of Thorne Smith will recognize echoes of his unconventional attitudes here as well.
Sure, the rampant and mostly unquestioned sexism is sometimes grating to modern sensibilities, but it's a product of its time and can be read as such; for the most part the book holds up very well to the test of time. I'd love to see it made into a period film... as long as the director could resist the temptation to update it.
Despite its period feel, though, there are many elements that are surprisingly topical - for example, here's a speech made by Hugh Onderdonck, speaking at a New York City Council meeting (pp. 120-121): "We have got to keep order. Is this an end in itself? I think not. By preserving public order we preserve the rights of each citizen. What are these rights? Social rights. They make it possible for him to live with other people and that in turn makes the city possible. You know this. If we begin by cutting those rights from under us - by extraordinary police powers, or martial law, or whatever - we fail twice. We take away the citizen's rights and we prevent ourselves from doing what he has empowered us to do. "As I see it, our job is to keep the city running. When we fail at that, it will be time enough to try shutting it down."
I also saw parallels between McHugh's book and the sort of thriller Arthur Hailey was writing in the 1970s - works like Hotel, for example - in McHugh's sheer love of process and its description. I Am Thinking of My Darling is, for its time, a science-fictional medical thriller, full of excitement about the advances in biology and medicine taking place at the time (the description of an electron microscope, brand-new then, is still interesting today) and only a little overtaken by reality even today. Its treatment of epidemiology simply vibrates with verisimilitude.
Take the stirring indictment of violent treatments like electroshock therapy and Metrazol on p.145, when Pete Jenkins points out "the unconscious assumption that these patients are trying to evade moral responsibility. That justifies the use of force to bring them back to it."
This book isn't just a dry collection of speeches, though. There's jazz and blues and the whole vibrant jangle of New York City as it was in the middle of the 20th Century, queen of the U.S.A. There are loving descriptions of the architecture and neighborhoods of the City. And there's a love of sensuality that rises from almost every page.
It's a truly amazing book, and a worthwhile use of your time.
This story is lovely because of its pre-war innocence and its pragmatism in the face of unrestrained frivolity. The main character is so solid you could build a city on him.