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thomashoole 's review for:
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
by Quentin Tarantino
funny
informative
lighthearted
relaxing
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Review: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood by Quentin Tarantino
Tarantino’s debut novel is a rich, swaggering companion to his 2019 film—less a straight novelisation, more a parallel universe where characters expand, timelines loosen, and the mythos of late-60s Hollywood deepens.
For fans of the director, it’s a gift: the dialogue crackles, the mood oozes cool, and the detours into forgotten film lore are delivered with obsessive, almost boyish enthusiasm. Occasionally, that enthusiasm threatens to tip into indulgence. The pages brim with obscure actors, lost B-movies, and behind-the-scenes anecdotes, which may test the patience of those less enamoured with the era. But even the most esoteric tangents feel like part of the world-building—dense, detailed, and lived-in.
The characters benefit from this looser format. Cliff Booth, in particular, gains layers of menace, charm, and quiet reflection that the film could only hint at. Rick Dalton remains a tragicomic figure, clinging to relevance with desperation and heart. Their arcs hit familiar beats from the film but with added shading and emotional payoff.
Tarantino maintains the postmodern flair you’d expect: the shifting structure, the fictional interviews, the mash-up of fact and fantasy. But above all, it’s readable—surprisingly so. There’s a passion coursing through every page, a deep affection for the time, the place, and the people who made it shine, however briefly.
A bold, idiosyncratic novel. And a fitting addendum to one of Tarantino’s most wistful films.
Tarantino’s debut novel is a rich, swaggering companion to his 2019 film—less a straight novelisation, more a parallel universe where characters expand, timelines loosen, and the mythos of late-60s Hollywood deepens.
For fans of the director, it’s a gift: the dialogue crackles, the mood oozes cool, and the detours into forgotten film lore are delivered with obsessive, almost boyish enthusiasm. Occasionally, that enthusiasm threatens to tip into indulgence. The pages brim with obscure actors, lost B-movies, and behind-the-scenes anecdotes, which may test the patience of those less enamoured with the era. But even the most esoteric tangents feel like part of the world-building—dense, detailed, and lived-in.
The characters benefit from this looser format. Cliff Booth, in particular, gains layers of menace, charm, and quiet reflection that the film could only hint at. Rick Dalton remains a tragicomic figure, clinging to relevance with desperation and heart. Their arcs hit familiar beats from the film but with added shading and emotional payoff.
Tarantino maintains the postmodern flair you’d expect: the shifting structure, the fictional interviews, the mash-up of fact and fantasy. But above all, it’s readable—surprisingly so. There’s a passion coursing through every page, a deep affection for the time, the place, and the people who made it shine, however briefly.
A bold, idiosyncratic novel. And a fitting addendum to one of Tarantino’s most wistful films.