F. Scott Fitzgerald died on 21st December, eighty years ago today, of a heart attack and, I guess, alcoholism. Towards the end of his life he was writing to keep his head above water and he considered himself a failure.
I always loved Tender is the Night, the follow up to The Great Gatsby, which I did not enjoy so much, but maybe requires a second reading. The character of Tommy Barban informed a lot of my early protagonists, the combination of violence and vulnerability rang a bell in my head and I thought, yeah, he’ll do.
Two images stick: Dick Diver carefully raking the sand on the beach next to his riviera home; Jay Gatsby throwing silk shirts down onto Daisy Buchanan, desperate to impress a girl the reader knows isn’t worth his love, whose ideal is merely a projection of Gatsby’s own yearning.