2011 Reading #99: Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Books 1-10.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
Books 61-70.
Books 71-80.
Books 81-90.
91. A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf.
92. So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams.
93. Vögelein by Jane Irwin and Jeff Berndt.
94. Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams.
95. Mercury by Hope Larson.
96. Shockrockets by Kurt Busiek, Stuart Immonen, and Wade Von Grawbadger.
97. The Beginning Place by Ursula K. Le Guin.
98. Trickster: Native American Tales: A Graphic Collection, edited by Matt Dembicki.
99. Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Interestingly structured, occasionally brilliant, but ultimately a bit empty. Fitzgerald writes about the idle class with his familiar blend of scorn and envy, but with more wit and insight than in his St. Paul stories. There's a bit of autobiography here, a lot of pointed commentary on money and American/European friction, all through a filter of nostalgia for a sort of Platonic glory days. My main problem with the novel, I think, is that this is a story about the rich and/or famous, and I just can't muster up all that much empathy for the rich and/or famous. I recognize that this may be a character flaw--empathy, in an ideal world, should be universal--but it is a fact. So the fact that the story starts with Rosemary and not Dick is a problem not because Rosemary's view of Dick isn't important, but because it presents Dick as already having become what we are supposed to see as compromised. I think Fitzgerald was smart to start with Rosemary, despite the disorientation that it creates when Book Two begins. Hell, I like a bit of disorientation in my reading. But Fitzgerald's larger point seems to be that Dick gave up some piece of himself when he married Nicole, and I'm not convinced. Dick seems to have it pretty swank before he ever meets Nicole, honestly. There's also the problem I mentioned, which is that there are times when the novel reads like a lament that Dude, The Party's Really Over, That Sucks. There are other times, too, when the allusions are so dated that I have no idea what Fitzgerald is talking about, which may be related to certain subplot events which I didn't grok the significance or point of--like the baffling and racially loaded exploits of Abe North in Paris, which culminate in a murder which is never solved and indeed is barely mentioned subsequently. Speaking of loaded, while Dick's racial attitudes might be separated from Fitzgerald's, the sexism of the narrative voice (women are like this, women do this, women have this characteristic blah blah blah) comes directly from the author. On the whole, I liked the book better than I feared I might, but it also let me down, in ways I did and didn't expect.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
Books 61-70.
Books 71-80.
Books 81-90.
91. A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf.
92. So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams.
93. Vögelein by Jane Irwin and Jeff Berndt.
94. Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams.
95. Mercury by Hope Larson.
96. Shockrockets by Kurt Busiek, Stuart Immonen, and Wade Von Grawbadger.
97. The Beginning Place by Ursula K. Le Guin.
98. Trickster: Native American Tales: A Graphic Collection, edited by Matt Dembicki.
99. Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Interestingly structured, occasionally brilliant, but ultimately a bit empty. Fitzgerald writes about the idle class with his familiar blend of scorn and envy, but with more wit and insight than in his St. Paul stories. There's a bit of autobiography here, a lot of pointed commentary on money and American/European friction, all through a filter of nostalgia for a sort of Platonic glory days. My main problem with the novel, I think, is that this is a story about the rich and/or famous, and I just can't muster up all that much empathy for the rich and/or famous. I recognize that this may be a character flaw--empathy, in an ideal world, should be universal--but it is a fact. So the fact that the story starts with Rosemary and not Dick is a problem not because Rosemary's view of Dick isn't important, but because it presents Dick as already having become what we are supposed to see as compromised. I think Fitzgerald was smart to start with Rosemary, despite the disorientation that it creates when Book Two begins. Hell, I like a bit of disorientation in my reading. But Fitzgerald's larger point seems to be that Dick gave up some piece of himself when he married Nicole, and I'm not convinced. Dick seems to have it pretty swank before he ever meets Nicole, honestly. There's also the problem I mentioned, which is that there are times when the novel reads like a lament that Dude, The Party's Really Over, That Sucks. There are other times, too, when the allusions are so dated that I have no idea what Fitzgerald is talking about, which may be related to certain subplot events which I didn't grok the significance or point of--like the baffling and racially loaded exploits of Abe North in Paris, which culminate in a murder which is never solved and indeed is barely mentioned subsequently. Speaking of loaded, while Dick's racial attitudes might be separated from Fitzgerald's, the sexism of the narrative voice (women are like this, women do this, women have this characteristic blah blah blah) comes directly from the author. On the whole, I liked the book better than I feared I might, but it also let me down, in ways I did and didn't expect.