Sure, it may have taken me a couple of years, but I have finally gotten under way with F. Scott Fitzgerald’s first novel, This Side of Paradise. Not too sure about it yet, after the exhausting introductory essay, but I’m doggedly at it (a rare thing for me) and time will tell.
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I have finished my read of This Side of Paradise. Quite truthfully, I was not terribly impressed by Scott Fitzgerald’s first attempt at literary note. Sure, Paradise is full of (too much?) detail, and Amory Blaine is, I suppose, at some level a likeable character. But I could not help but find myself, unavoidably, comparing Paradise to Scott’s masterpiece, The Great Gatsby—written just five years later; the two seemed as disparate as having come from two entirely different authors.
The thing that strikes me now is that Paradise is supposedly highly-autobiographical, even more than Gatsby. If that is the case, I certainly would not have regretted not knowing Scott during his college days.
At any rate, it was, I guess, a good read, something to say I in fact took in.
Next up: The Beautiful and Damned.