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erodes: "There was little they dared talk about in these days; seldom did they find the right word when it counted, it arrived always a moment too late when one could not reach the other any. more."
A knowledgeable critic of novels doubtless could pick over the Fitzgerald canon and find palpable flaws. The narrative flow is episodic; some incidents seem contrived and implausible, but for me, at least, the quality of his writing redeems the imperfections of his plots. He had the gift of a camera eye. which looks at people and things, and remembers.
Fitzgerald died too young, wom out by drink and by the stress of his marriage. Edna St. Vincent Millay's familiar quatrain could sum up the life of this brief comet. He burned his candle at both ends; it did not last the night, but while it burned, my foes and friends, it gave a lovely light.
Copy write 1996
Universal Press Syndicate
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