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F. Scott Fitzgerald

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  • F. Scott Fitzgerald




    F. Scott Fitzgerald




    F. Scott Fitzgerald's life is a tragic example of both sides of the American Dream - the joys of young love, wealth and success, and the tragedies associated with excess and failure. Named for another famous American, a distant cousin who authored the Star Spangled Banner, Fitzgerald was born in St. Paul Minnesota on September 24, 1896. The son of a failed wicker furniture salesman (Edward Fitzgerald) and an Irish immigrant with a large inheritance (Mary "Mollie" McQuillan), Fitzgerald grew up in a solidly Catholic and upper middle class environment. 1935 Portrait by David Silvette, courtesy National Portrait Gallery.

    Fitzgerald started writing at an early age. His high school newspaper published his detective stories, encouraging him to pursue writing more enthusiastically than academics. He dropped out of Princeton University to join the army and continued to pursue his obsession, writing magazine articles and even musical lyrics.

    At 21 years of age, he submitted his first novel for publication and Charles Scribner's Sons rejected it, but with words of encouragement. Beginning a pattern of constant revising that would characterize his writing style for the rest of his career, Fitzgerald decided to rewrite "The Romantic Egoist" and resubmit it for publication. Meanwhile, fate, in the form of the U.S. army, stationed him near Montgomery, Alabama in 1918, where he met and fell in love with an 18-year-old Southern belle - Zelda Sayre. Scribners rejected his novel for a second time, and so Fitzgerald turned to advertising as a steady source of income. Unfortunately, his paltry salary was not enough to convince Zelda to marry him, and tired of waiting for him to make his fortune, she broke their engagement in 1919. Happily, Scribners finally accepted the novel after Fitzgerald rewrote it for the third time as "This Side of Paradise", and published it a year later. Fitzgerald, suddenly a rich and famous author, married Zelda a week after its publication.



    In between writing novels, Fitzgerald was quite prolific as a magazine story writer. The Saturday Evening Post in particular served as a showcase for his short works of fiction, most of which revolved around a new breed of American woman - the young, free-thinking, independent "flapper" of the Roaring Twenties.

    The Fitzgeralds enjoyed fame and fortune, and his novels reflected their lifestyle, describing in semi-autobiographical fiction the privileged lives of wealthy, aspiring socialites. Fitzgerald wrote his second novel - "The Beautiful and the Damned" a year after they were married. Three years later, after the birth of their first and only child, Scottie, Fitzgerald completed his best-known work: "The Great Gatsby."

    The extravagant living made possible by such success, however, took its toll. Constantly globe-trotting (living at various times in several different cities in Italy, France, Switzerland, and eight of the United States), the Fitzgeralds tried in vain to escape or at least seek respite from Scott's alcoholism and Zelda's mental illness.



    Zelda suffered several breakdowns in both her physical and mental health, and sought treatment in and out of clinics from 1930 until her death (due to a fire at Highland Hospital in North Carolina in 1948). Zelda's mental illness, the subject of Fitzgerald's fourth novel, "Tender is the Night," had a debilitating effect on Scott's writing. He described his own "crack-up" in an essay that he wrote in 1936, hopelessly in debt, unable to write, nearly estranged from his wife and daughter, and incapacitated by excessive drinking and poor physical health.

    Things were looking up for Fitzgerald near the end of his life - he won a contract in 1937 to write for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in Hollywood and fell in love with Sheilah Graham, a movie columnist. He had started writing again - scripts, short-stories, and the first draft of a new novel about Hollywood - when he suffered a heart attack and died in 1940 at the age of 44, a failure in his own mind. Most commonly recognized only as an extravagant drunk, who epitomized the excesses of the Jazz Age, Fitzgerald's work did not earn the credibility and recognition it holds today until years after his death.

    source: pbs.org



    ویرایش توسط Angel : https://forum.motarjemonline.com/member/63-angel در ساعت 11-03-2010, 09:05 PM

    I believed my wisdom
    ... Killed the whys as I grew ... Yet the time has taught me ... The whys are grown too
    Angel

    Click to Read My Other Poems

  • #2


    The Beautiful and the Darned
    Brooks Peters

    On my way back from Natchez, I stopped over in Montgomery, Alabama. As the birthplace of Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, it is not surprising that the city has named a street in her honor (see below) right next to one named for her illustrious husband, F. Scott Fitzgerald. The absence of last names is amusing



    Unfortunately the house in which Zelda grew up is no longer there, but the city does have a small museum honoring the couple. Located on Felder Avenue, it is an unprepossessing residence in a rather humdrum part of town. The house today is divided into apartments; the museum is on the ground floor.



    The museum contains a few paintings by Zelda, most of the books the two of them wrote, and a video player that offers a 20-minute documentary. The rooms evoke the period but it could use a few more original pieces. Perhaps this is not surprising since the Fitzgeralds only lived there about six months. What is most surprising is that this is the only museum dedicated to F. Scott Fitzgerald anywhere in the world. Surely Princeton or St. Paul, Minnesota could come up with something more substantial.



    Despite its shortcomings, the museum still manages to evoke the personality of its famous residents and remains a testament to the triumphs and tragedies of this ill-fated pair of romantic egoists.

    source:brookspeters.com
    ویرایش توسط Angel : https://forum.motarjemonline.com/member/63-angel در ساعت 11-03-2010, 09:20 PM

    I believed my wisdom
    ... Killed the whys as I grew ... Yet the time has taught me ... The whys are grown too
    Angel

    Click to Read My Other Poems

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