Silent Sin by E.J. Russell

Narrated by Greg Boudreaux

E.J. Russell’s Silent Sin is a standalone historical romance set in the Hollywood of the 1920s featuring a movie star and the man who – through a fortunate circumstance – lands a job as his driver. The author has clearly done her homework when it comes to the background of this story – about the studio system and the influence it exerted over all aspects of the lives of its stars, about the relationship between the studios and the press – and that, together with the inclusion of a number of real-life figures and events, grounds the story very firmly in its time and place. I had a couple of niggles, but overall it’s a compelling story with fantastic narration by Greg Boudreaux, and I lapped it up.

When the book begins, we meet Robbie – Robinson Crusoe Goodman – as he arrives in a place called Hollywood. He’s disappointed; he’d hoped the farmer who’d given him a lift in his truck would have taken him a bit further along the road – plus in a town, he’s unlikely to find any work of the sort that could be done by a former potato farmer from Idaho whose meagre possessions amount to the very threadbare set of clothes on his back. After spending the night in an uninhabited shack at the edge of town, a tired, hungry and thirsty Robbie walks slowly back down main street, with no real idea of what to do next. He watches, surprised, as a cowboy – wondering just what a cowboy is doing in a town where there are no cows? – strolls along the street announcing he’s just got a part in a new picture. Robbie has no idea what the man is talking about, and just as he’s about to move along, is tapped on the shoulder and turns to find an older man wearing a uniform is speaking to him. For just a second or two, Robbie panics – uniforms mean authority and Robbie has been running from the authorities for six weeks now – but the man – who says that everyone calls him Pops – tells Robbie he’s done nothing wrong and then offers to buy him breakfast. Robbie can’t believe his luck, and as they eat, Pops tells Robbie that he works at Citadel Motion Pictures and, after ascertaining that Robbie knows how to drive, offers him a job.

Martin Brentwood is one of Citadel’s most popular stars, but after five years on screen, he’s become a bit weary of the constant need to play the game and play a role, even when he’s not on set. He’s disillusioned and his career is floundering; and while on the one hand he worries it may be coming to an end, on the other, he knows acting isn’t what he really wants to do. His contract is up for renewal though, and his manager and best friend, Sid, makes clear the importance of keeping his nose clean. While Hollywood is one of the few places it’s relatively safe to be queer – and relatively really IS the key word there – the studio bosses will turn a blind eye only so long as their ‘assets’ are making them money; the slightest whiff of scandal and they’re on their own. Martin’s movie career pays the bills and he owes it to himself, and to Sid, not to screw it up for the sake of a quick fuck, and for now, to head over to the studio to do some re-takes on the dumb, pro-Prohibition movie in which his character – a drunkard – dies a horrible (and morally satisfying (for the temperance leagues, anyway) death.

Sid has arranged for a new driver to take Martin to the studio (after Martin fired the previous one for getting too nosy), and the first time he sees him, Martin is captivated. He initially assumes that someone so beautiful and fresh-faced as this stunning young man must have come to Hollywood to break into pictures and, with a sinking heart, determines not to let an “ambitious nobody” get under his skin. He soon realises his error though, when Robbie proves to be exactly what he appears to be – honest, kind, funny and warm, his naiveté such a balm to Martin’s cynicism and the insincerity that has become a way of life.

We discover early on that both men are keeping secrets – it’s in the blurb – but the full truth as to why Robbie is on the run is carefully drip-fed throughout the story, slowly building a picture of his life with a cruel, uncaring father and a distant mother, confused by feelings the Bible insists are an abomination. He’s learned that while those feelings aren’t unique to him, they’re nonetheless unacceptable – yet he can’t help falling for the handsome Martin, who talks to him kindly and treats him as an equal, even though he’s a star and Robbie is just a driver.

Robbie and Martin are very different, likeable men who meet when they’re at turning points in their lives, both working out who they are and who they want to be; and their romance is sweet and fairly low-steam with something of the slow-burn about it, which works well in context. Robbie’s story mirrors that perennial Hollywood favourite – the unknown who becomes a star when he unintentionally attracts the interest of one of Citadel’s producers, moves from being a driver to working behind the camera and from there – again unintentionally – ends up in front of it. But despite the fame and fortune it brings him, Robbie is still Robbie; he stays true to himself and I really liked that.

I was glued from Silent Sin from start to finish. I have a couple of niggles, but there’s so much to love here, from the characters themselves to the drama and intrigue of the movie lot, the glimpse into the world of movie-making and the beautifully evoked world of silent-era Hollywood glamour. Behind the scenes, though, it’s murky and manipulative and, for men like Robbie and Martin, potentially dangerous. The temperance leagues and morality clubs were forcing the entertainment industry to dance to their tune; morality clauses were first introduced into actors’ contracts (following the accusation and trial of Fatty Arbuckle for rape and murder in 1921), the Volstead Act introduced prohibition, and the press was hungry for gossip and scandal and weren’t too concerned about where or how they got it. (Plus ça change…) It’s all fascinating stuff (for this movie buff, especially) and is superbly done.

Those niggles I mentioned; the romance is perhaps a teeny bit ‘insta’ and the crisis moment near the end is a bit predictable – but I was so wrapped up in the story that neither of those things spoiled my enjoyment.

And, of course, the narration is fabulous. Greg Boudreaux always delivers technical accomplishment and polish, his voice acting is excellent and he never fails to get into the heads of the characters he portrays so that the listener experiences all the action and emotion of the story right alongside them. He’s wonderful as Robbie, combining a perfectly judged innocence and sense of wide-eyed wonder with an inner strength and strong sense of self. His portrayal of Martin – complete with cut-glass English accent (although Hertfordshire is pronounced HARTfordshire, not HURTfordshire!) – is just as good, all world-weary cynicism on the outside, but infused with affection and tenderness in his interactions with Robbie. There are quite a few supporting roles here, and Mr. Boudreaux switches between them effortlessly, making use of a variety of different timbres and accents to portray leading ladies, aggressive producers, studio bosses and aspiring scenarists (screenwriters) with aplomb.

Silent Sin is an unmissable combination of fascinating, well-researched story, tender romance and outstanding narration. It was released in 2021 and I’m kicking myself for not having listened to it sooner; do yourself a favour and grab a copy ASAP!

Caz

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