Collected Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald

This carefully crafted ebook: 'Collected Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents.
Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (1896-1940) was an American author of novels and short stories, whose works are the paradigmatic writings of the Jazz Age. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century. Fitzgerald is considered a member of the 'Lost Generation' of the 1920s.
Excerpt:
'To Ernest Hemingway:
Dear Ernest,
Your stories were great (in April Scribners). But like me you must beware Conrad rhythms in direct quotation from characters, especially if you're pointing a single phrase and making a man live by it 'In the fall the war was always there but we did not go to it any more' is one of the most beautiful prose sentences I've ever read. So much has happened to me lately that I despair of ever assimilating it - or forgetting it, which is the same thing. I hate to think of your being hard up. Please use this if it would help. The Atlantic will pay about $200.00, I suppose. I'll get in touch with Perkins about it...'
Table of Contents:
To Zelda Fitzgerald
To Ernest Hemingway
To Frances Scott Fitzgerald
To Maxwell Perkins
To John Peale Bishop
To Mrs Bayard Turnbull
To Christian Gauss
To Harold Ober
To Mrs Richard Taylor
To Edmund Wilson
To Gerald and Sara Murphy
Other Letters

This carefully crafted ebook: "Collected Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald" is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (1896-1940) was an American author of novels and short stories, whose works are the paradigmatic writings of the Jazz Age. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century. Fitzgerald is considered a member of the "Lost Generation" of the 1920s. Excerpt: "To Ernest Hemingway: Dear Ernest, Your stories were great (in April Scribners). But like me you must beware Conrad rhythms in direct quotation from characters, especially if you're pointing a single phrase and making a man live by it 'In the fall the war was always there but we did not go to it any more' is one of the most beautiful prose sentences I've ever read. So much has happened to me lately that I despair of ever assimilating it - or forgetting it, which is the same thing. I hate to think of your being hard up. Please use this if it would help. The Atlantic will pay about $200.00, I suppose. I'll get in touch with Perkins about it..." Table of Contents: To Zelda Fitzgerald To Ernest Hemingway To Frances Scott Fitzgerald To Maxwell Perkins To John Peale Bishop To Mrs Bayard Turnbull To Christian Gauss To Harold Ober To Mrs Richard Taylor To Edmund Wilson To Gerald and Sara Murphy Other Letters

Autorentext
F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1896 in St. Paul (Minnesota) geboren, hatte nach den Studienjahren in Princeton mit 24 Jahren sein Ziel erreicht: Sein erster Roman 'Diesseits vom Paradies' machte ihn auf einen Schlag berühmt und reich, mit seiner Frau Zelda stand Fitzgerald im Mittelpunkt von Glanz und Glimmer. 'Der große Gatsby', sein heute meistgelesenes Buch, war jedoch ein finanzieller Flop. Alles endete im schrecklichen Kater der Wirtschaftskrise. Alkohol, Zank und Geldprobleme zerstörten die Ehe mit Zelda. Um Geld zu verdienen, ging Fitzgerald 1937 als Drehbuchautor nach Hollywood, wo er 1940 starb.

Leseprobe
To Ernest Hemingway
Table of Contents 14 rue de Tilsitt
Paris, France
Postmarked November 30,1925

Dear Ernest:

I was quite ashamed of the other morning. Not only in disturbing Hadley, but in foisting that - alias - upon you. However it is only fair to say that the deplorable man who entered your apartment Saturday morning was not me but a man named Johnston who has often been mistaken for me.

Zelda, evidences to the contrary, was not suffering from lack of care but from a nervous hysteria which is only relieved by a doctor bearing morphine. We both went to Belleau Wood next day to recuperate.

For some reason I told you a silly lie - or rather an exaggeration - silly because the truth itself was enough to make me sufficiently jubilant. The Saturday Evening Post raised me to $2750 and not $3000, which is a jump of $750.00 in one month. It was probably in my mind that I could not get $3000 from the smaller magazines. The Post merely met the Hearst offer, but that is something they seldom do.

What garbled versions of the McAlmon episode or the English orgy we lately participated in I told you, I don't know. It is true I saved McAlmon from a beating he probably deserved and that we went on some wild parties in London with a certain Marchioness of Milford Haven whom we first met with Tallulah Bankhead. She was about half royalty, I think. Anyhow she was very nice - anything else I may have added about the relations between the Fitzgeralds and the house of Windsor is pure fiction.

I'm crazy to read the comic novel. Are you going to the MacLeishes' Tuesday? I hope Hadley is well now. Please believe me that we send our best wishes to Ernest M. Hemingway.

Scott

Villa St Louis
Juan-les-Pins
August or September, 1926

Dear Ernest:

Sorry we missed you and Hadley. No news. I'm on the wagon and working like hell. Expect to sail for N.Y. December 10th from Genoa on the Conte Biancamano. Will be here till then. Saw bullfight in Fréjus. Bull was euneuch (sp.). House barred and dark.

Front door chained. Have made no enemies for a week. -

domestic row ended in riot. Have new war books by Pierrefeu. God is love.

Signed, Ernestine Murphy

Did you read in the N.Y. Herald about '... Henry Carpenter, banker, and Willie Stevens, half wit,...'

Villa St Louis
*Juan-les-Pins
*Fall, 1926

We were in a back-house in Juan-les-Pins. Bill had lost control of his sphincter muscles. There were wet MaFins in the rack beside the door. There were wet Eclaireurs de Nice in the rack over his head. When the King of Bulgaria came in, Bill was just firing a burst that struck the old limeshit twenty feet down with a splat-tap. All the rest came just like that The King of Bulgaria began to whirl round and round.

The great thing in these affairs -' he said.

Soon he was whirling faster and faster. Then he was dead.

At this point in my letter my 30th birthday came and I got tight for a week in the company of such fascinating gents as Mr Theodore Rousseau and other ornaments of what is now a barren shore.

Ernest of little faith, I hope the sale of 'The Killers' will teach you to send every story either to Scribners or an agent. Can't you get Today Is Friday' back? Your letter depressed and rather baffled me. Have you and Hadley permanently busted up, and was the necessity of that what was on your soul this summer? Don't answer this unless you feel like it. Anyhow I'm sorry everything's such a mess and I do want to see you if you come to Marseille in October.

We saw the -- s before they left, got stewed with them (at their party) - that is we got stewed - and I believe there was some sort of mawkish reconciliation. However they've grown dim to me and I don'