I have been re-reading the novels of F. Scott Fitzgerald this summer. He is one of my absolute favourite authors. The way he portrays his characters, is simply marvelous. Everything is so lavishly detailed, from the locations to the clothing, so it almost feels as you were there.
The pages are filled with stories of decadence, faded youth, passion, decay, class, excess and destruction. His stories are so sad, yet beautiful and haunting. Fitzgerald´s style is unbiased and clearsighted, yet desillusioned. He filled his novels with bits and pieces taken from his own life, which makes it even more tragic. F. Scott Fitzgerald died thinking he was a failure, yet he is one of the most loved authors, and his books are considered classics. They have captivated readers for decades, and most likely will continue to do so.
“When Dick knocked she had just dressed and been watching the rain, thinking of some poem, and of full gutters in Beverly Hills. When she opened the door she saw him as something fixed and Godlike as he had always been, as older people are to younger, rigid and unmalleable. Dick saw her with an inevitable sense of disappointment. It took him a moment to respond to the unguarded sweetness of her smile, her body calculated to a millimeter to suggest a bud yet guarantee a flower. He was conscious of the print of her wet foot on a rug through the bathroom door.”
Excerpt from “Tender is the Night” by F. Scott Fitzgerald
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