What do you think?
Rate this book
Подшофе
MINIMA – это коллекция книг карманного формата, в которую войдут эссе, очерки, интервью, манифесты, биографические портреты, словом различные "малые" нон-фикшн жанры, современных и классических авторов. Каждый выпуск серии представляет собой короткий авторский взгляд на ту или иную проблему или предмет из сферы современной культуры. Часть выпускаемых книг – это полевая социология, новая теория, местами очень близкая к журналистике – фиксация явлений, которые еще не обросли традицией своего описания (исследование Джона Перри "Искусство прокрастинации", сборник интервью Paper Monument "Поклонник вашего таланта. Искусство и этикет", статьи Ричарда Барбрука и Джона Сибрука). Другая линия – vintage contemporary – архивные тексты, впервые формулирующие ключевые понятия современности: дизайн, психогеография, визуальность, технологии (работы Осипа Брика "О рекламе", "Радиотеория" Бертольда Брехта, эссе Вирджинии Вулф и т.д). Данная серия является частью издательской программы Музея современного искусства "Гараж" и издательства "Ад Маргинем".
124 pages, Paperback
First published June 28, 2011
128 people are currently reading
3315 people want to read
About the author
F. Scott Fitzgerald
2,139 books25.7k followersFrancis Scott Key Fitzgerald, widely known simply as Scott Fitzgerald, was an American novelist, essayist, and short story writer. He is best known for his novels depicting the flamboyance and excess of the Jazz Age, a term he popularized in his short story collection Tales of the Jazz Age. During his lifetime, he published four novels, four story collections, and 164 short stories. Although he achieved temporary popular success and fortune in the 1920s, Fitzgerald received critical acclaim only after his death and is now widely regarded as one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century.
Born into a middle-class family in Saint Paul, Minnesota, Fitzgerald was raised primarily in New York state. He attended Princeton University where he befriended future literary critic Edmund Wilson. Owing to a failed romantic relationship with Chicago socialite Ginevra King, he dropped out in 1917 to join the United States Army during World War I. While stationed in Alabama, he met Zelda Sayre, a Southern debutante who belonged to Montgomery's exclusive country-club set. Although she initially rejected Fitzgerald's marriage proposal due to his lack of financial prospects, Zelda agreed to marry him after he published the commercially successful This Side of Paradise (1920). The novel became a cultural sensation and cemented his reputation as one of the eminent writers of the decade.
His second novel, The Beautiful and Damned (1922), propelled him further into the cultural elite. To maintain his affluent lifestyle, he wrote numerous stories for popular magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Collier's Weekly, and Esquire. During this period, Fitzgerald frequented Europe, where he befriended modernist writers and artists of the "Lost Generation" expatriate community, including Ernest Hemingway. His third novel, The Great Gatsby (1925), received generally favorable reviews but was a commercial failure, selling fewer than 23,000 copies in its first year. Despite its lackluster debut, The Great Gatsby is now hailed by some literary critics as the "Great American Novel". Following the deterioration of his wife's mental health and her placement in a mental institute for schizophrenia, Fitzgerald completed his final novel, Tender Is the Night (1934).
Struggling financially because of the declining popularity of his works during the Great Depression, Fitzgerald moved to Hollywood, where he embarked upon an unsuccessful career as a screenwriter. While living in Hollywood, he cohabited with columnist Sheilah Graham, his final companion before his death. After a long struggle with alcoholism, he attained sobriety only to die of a heart attack in 1940, at 44. His friend Edmund Wilson edited and published an unfinished fifth novel, The Last Tycoon (1941), after Fitzgerald's death. In 1993, a new edition was published as The Love of the Last Tycoon, edited by Matthew J. Bruccoli.
Born into a middle-class family in Saint Paul, Minnesota, Fitzgerald was raised primarily in New York state. He attended Princeton University where he befriended future literary critic Edmund Wilson. Owing to a failed romantic relationship with Chicago socialite Ginevra King, he dropped out in 1917 to join the United States Army during World War I. While stationed in Alabama, he met Zelda Sayre, a Southern debutante who belonged to Montgomery's exclusive country-club set. Although she initially rejected Fitzgerald's marriage proposal due to his lack of financial prospects, Zelda agreed to marry him after he published the commercially successful This Side of Paradise (1920). The novel became a cultural sensation and cemented his reputation as one of the eminent writers of the decade.
His second novel, The Beautiful and Damned (1922), propelled him further into the cultural elite. To maintain his affluent lifestyle, he wrote numerous stories for popular magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Collier's Weekly, and Esquire. During this period, Fitzgerald frequented Europe, where he befriended modernist writers and artists of the "Lost Generation" expatriate community, including Ernest Hemingway. His third novel, The Great Gatsby (1925), received generally favorable reviews but was a commercial failure, selling fewer than 23,000 copies in its first year. Despite its lackluster debut, The Great Gatsby is now hailed by some literary critics as the "Great American Novel". Following the deterioration of his wife's mental health and her placement in a mental institute for schizophrenia, Fitzgerald completed his final novel, Tender Is the Night (1934).
Struggling financially because of the declining popularity of his works during the Great Depression, Fitzgerald moved to Hollywood, where he embarked upon an unsuccessful career as a screenwriter. While living in Hollywood, he cohabited with columnist Sheilah Graham, his final companion before his death. After a long struggle with alcoholism, he attained sobriety only to die of a heart attack in 1940, at 44. His friend Edmund Wilson edited and published an unfinished fifth novel, The Last Tycoon (1941), after Fitzgerald's death. In 1993, a new edition was published as The Love of the Last Tycoon, edited by Matthew J. Bruccoli.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 229 reviews
December 8, 2021
I like F. Scott Fitzgerald quite a bit. He has not one, but TWO spaces in the extremely coveted Emma's Five Star Ratings Club, otherwise known as the One In A Million Never Going To Happen Perfect Reading Experiences Gang.
Quick break because now I'm curious how many authors have multiple places in that exclusive coterie.
(If you're curious, there are actually 12. In reverse alphabetical order: John Steinbeck, Lemony Snicket, Sally Rooney, LM Montgomery, Carmen Maria Machado, Sarah Hogle, Emily Henry, Neil Gaiman, Jonathan Safran Foer, Lewis Carroll, Leigh Bardugo, and Jane Austen.)
But anyway.
Even I, a fairly big fan of the guy, could not overcome the circumstances and like this book., which a friend of a friend offered to lend to me.
And gave to me at a party.
Which meant I spent an entire day looking like some kind of disaster nerd who brings books about alcohol to drinking-based events.
On top of that (and in addition to that guy turning out to be kind of a creep), this is not very good.
It's excerpts, quotes, and weird clippings from ol' Fitzy, brought together by the sheer power of having some small thing to do with alcohol.
And I like alcohol fine, too. But as it turns out that wasn't enough either.
None of this strikes me as particularly Fitzgerald's best, and even if it were, it would be doing it a disservice to halfheartedly toss it in among the strange remnants found here. Even his style seems choppy and odd given the framing.
Bottom line: Who thought this book was necessary?
clear ur shit prompt 3: a book you were recommended
follow my progress here
Quick break because now I'm curious how many authors have multiple places in that exclusive coterie.
(If you're curious, there are actually 12. In reverse alphabetical order: John Steinbeck, Lemony Snicket, Sally Rooney, LM Montgomery, Carmen Maria Machado, Sarah Hogle, Emily Henry, Neil Gaiman, Jonathan Safran Foer, Lewis Carroll, Leigh Bardugo, and Jane Austen.)
But anyway.
Even I, a fairly big fan of the guy, could not overcome the circumstances and like this book., which a friend of a friend offered to lend to me.
And gave to me at a party.
Which meant I spent an entire day looking like some kind of disaster nerd who brings books about alcohol to drinking-based events.
On top of that (and in addition to that guy turning out to be kind of a creep), this is not very good.
It's excerpts, quotes, and weird clippings from ol' Fitzy, brought together by the sheer power of having some small thing to do with alcohol.
And I like alcohol fine, too. But as it turns out that wasn't enough either.
None of this strikes me as particularly Fitzgerald's best, and even if it were, it would be doing it a disservice to halfheartedly toss it in among the strange remnants found here. Even his style seems choppy and odd given the framing.
Bottom line: Who thought this book was necessary?
clear ur shit prompt 3: a book you were recommended
follow my progress here
April 21, 2019
Disparate pieces, linked not by beverages but ennui. This was a Christmas gift from Joel. I enjoyed The Crack-Up, the piece on travel, the meditation on insomnia and especially My Lost City.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, maybe physician’s notes, like the psychiatrist in the liner notes for The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady. There’s an odd juxtaposition: Fitzgerald and Mingus.
This slim collection abounds with lyricism and despair.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, maybe physician’s notes, like the psychiatrist in the liner notes for The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady. There’s an odd juxtaposition: Fitzgerald and Mingus.
This slim collection abounds with lyricism and despair.
January 16, 2012
I could spend my life pulling quotes out of this little ditty.
"On the side of the bed I put my head in my hands. Then silence, silence--and suddenly--or so it seems in retrospect--suddenly I am asleep. Sleep--real sleep, the dear, the cherished one, the lullaby. So deep and warm the bed and the pillow enfolding me, letting me sink into peace--nothingness--my dreams now, after the catharsis of the dark hours, are of young and lovely people doing young, lovely things...."
The stuff in the book is not new; it's excerpted from many other Fitzgerald's works, but it's tiny, and it could fit in your jacket pocket, and you could keep it with you all the time, and use it whenever you felt despair.
"On the side of the bed I put my head in my hands. Then silence, silence--and suddenly--or so it seems in retrospect--suddenly I am asleep. Sleep--real sleep, the dear, the cherished one, the lullaby. So deep and warm the bed and the pillow enfolding me, letting me sink into peace--nothingness--my dreams now, after the catharsis of the dark hours, are of young and lovely people doing young, lovely things...."
The stuff in the book is not new; it's excerpted from many other Fitzgerald's works, but it's tiny, and it could fit in your jacket pocket, and you could keep it with you all the time, and use it whenever you felt despair.
May 3, 2013
Not quite as funny, wise, vivid, or interesting as you'd think it might be.
A lot of it is recycled (obviously) but it's some vague, mildly amusing letters mixed in with long passages from The Crack-Up (which I've already read before) and this doth not a FSF compendium of booze ruminations make....
There is this, though:
"When he urinated, it sounded like a night prayer."
Two stars. That last quote just made it under the one-star gun.
April 6, 2012
I enjoyed it on the basis that it was a collection of Fitzgerald's writings, but it did kind of feel like the editors did a Find-Replace of his work for anything that mentioned the words "drink" "gin" "drunk" "booze" etc., and copy-pasted them together to make a book. The back said it was his thoughts and experiences with drinking, and yet some stories would be 5, 10 pages and only mention the narrator sipping a drink at some point. So it was a little random in that respect. I think "The Crack-Up" articles were my favorites, though "The Lost City" was supremely evocative--in that I kind of felt like a depressed, listless piece of nothing while reading it. I DON'T KNOW, in the middle of that story, I just got this overwhelming wave of the futility of ALL THE THINGS. D: D: Anyway, it's cute little book, if completely random at times in its selections.
February 23, 2019
If you're Fitzgerald's biggest fan, then by all means, read this book. The bit about their travels was cute and atmospheric enough, but it still felt like a collection of drafts for "setting the scene" in some proper writing. The rest of it was insufferably full of pseudo-profound ennui. Hard pass from my side.
January 15, 2024
Cannot comprehend why I have to read about each and every hotel he stayed at and his friends stayed at and what happened a there and what color the drapes were of…
Disaster, had great plans for it. Why did you write it, Fitzgerald?
Disaster, had great plans for it. Why did you write it, Fitzgerald?
April 10, 2022
This book is falsely advertised. There were maybe ten pages of interesting debauchery. I actually threw the book away.
November 24, 2022
a crappy book to boost my goal yeaaa
Read
December 28, 2025Enjoyed reading this - lot less polished than his books, but this collection of writings and letters were really interesting. His fixation with Old Nassau and Football and new Wealth truly seeps through. It’s also so striking just the way he crafts sentences writes about New York City (frenetic/anxiety-inducing) compared to his travels in Europe. Lots of Name Dropping and era-specific references so I definitely want to explore more work from this period next year. Also did not know that “Bunny” is a nickname for “edmund” back in the 30’s. So that nickname definitely predates Donna tartt’s the secret history (which takes place in the ‘80s) by a long time, and must’ve been common in east coast prep culture. Honestly it’s kind of amazing how that culture has basically solidified and survived a century without much need for cultural revamping…the ossification of this distal American image perhaps.
“But that night, in Bunny’s apartment, life was mellow and safe, a finer distillation of all that I had come to love at Princeton. The gentle playing of an oboe mingled with city noises from the street outside, which penetrated into the room with difficulty through great barricades of books; only the crisp tearing open of invitations by one man was a discordant note. I had found a third symbol of New York and began wondering about the rent of such apartments and casting about for the appropriate friends to share one with me.”
“But that night, in Bunny’s apartment, life was mellow and safe, a finer distillation of all that I had come to love at Princeton. The gentle playing of an oboe mingled with city noises from the street outside, which penetrated into the room with difficulty through great barricades of books; only the crisp tearing open of invitations by one man was a discordant note. I had found a third symbol of New York and began wondering about the rent of such apartments and casting about for the appropriate friends to share one with me.”
April 11, 2012
The longest section of this very short novel was, unfortunately, what I found to be the most boring part. However, while boring, it's still written by Fitzgerald and still, therefore, has beautiful imagery. I read it fluidly and lazily, like a poem. I just listened to the rhythm and the sound instead of focusing on the details of all the hotels he and Zelda stayed in over several years.
I'll have to reread this after I've read more Fitzgerald. Unfortunately, I've only tackled The Great Gatsby so far. But I think a reread once I'm more familiar with his work will increase my love for this. My favorite part was probably the letters at the end. Fitzgerald's funny—and it's strange to read things like, "Maybe my book is rotten but I don't think so," about The Great Gatsby, a now beloved classic.
I adore his descriptions of New York. A few times I just stopped and stared at sentences.
Now tell me why I haven't read This Side of Paradise yet.
I'll have to reread this after I've read more Fitzgerald. Unfortunately, I've only tackled The Great Gatsby so far. But I think a reread once I'm more familiar with his work will increase my love for this. My favorite part was probably the letters at the end. Fitzgerald's funny—and it's strange to read things like, "Maybe my book is rotten but I don't think so," about The Great Gatsby, a now beloved classic.
I adore his descriptions of New York. A few times I just stopped and stared at sentences.
Now tell me why I haven't read This Side of Paradise yet.
May 24, 2022
I picked this up because the first section seemed pretty raw and vulnerable, but much of the book ended up being word vomit. If you really like F. Scott Fitzgerald and will consume any books or documentaries about him you can find, maybe you’d enjoy something like this. Otherwise it’s just dry read (although it is quick!)
December 4, 2023
As a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s works, this short collection (under 100 pages total) of stories, letters, and notes was a fun read. My favorite sections were “From The Notebooks” that were just quick scrawls of his thoughts and the short story “My Lost City” that was so personal to his relationship with New York City.
There are also a few personal letters to friends in the collection and in them you get another glimpse of the despair and loneliness Fitzgerald was in. I could read this again but it doesn’t bring in anything new to what we already know about him from his biography, lifestyle, and other works.
There are also a few personal letters to friends in the collection and in them you get another glimpse of the despair and loneliness Fitzgerald was in. I could read this again but it doesn’t bring in anything new to what we already know about him from his biography, lifestyle, and other works.
August 11, 2025
nice writing but this book was like having a bad trip lol
November 17, 2025
Beautiful writing and some of the little poems were nice but overall kind of a snoozefest and BARELY ANY DRINKING STORIES
December 4, 2013
This book bummed me out and made me question the editorial quality of the publishing line in general. Most of the pieces can only be described as being tangentially related to alcohol - few fit the description on the back of the book. I'm totally in support of digging up work in the public domain, coming up with an enticing, contemporaneous angle to it, and packaging it in a well-designed book, but I'm not into naming the collection and describing it as something other than what it is.
Reading this reminded me of the description of Salinger as a commercial writer in the Salerno doc. These pieces scream commercial writer. Fitzgerald is often trying to up the word count (in-depth, unfunny detailing of mosquito attack, etc), and adding on to essays that don't necessarily need it (Crack-Up). Journalism is great, and all, but much of this felt like uninspired blog fodder, that I only wish people were still paid for! I can roll out a 500-word thought piece on my insomnia or hotels I've stayed in (that one felt like such a writing exercise), or even crank out another obligatory Why I Left New York essay (though to be fair, Fitzgerald was in on the ground floor with that one).
I liked refreshing on F. Scott, but this is mislabeled.
Other thoughts: just because someone was an alcoholic in their personal life doesn't mean they wrote more, or better about alcohol than anyone else. This is a misperception of his work based on his mythos.
Also: this guy is boring. Even in ostensibly hyper-personal essays, he rarely speaks about how he feels. For an essayistic writer, Fitz has an alarming lack of opinion, especially in regards to politics. His gloss on the depression goes something like, "We heard there was a depression back home. We were in a hotel in France. We stayed for two more years." What do we know about him at the end of this book? He wishes he had played football or went to war. What a conventional snooze.
Reading this reminded me of the description of Salinger as a commercial writer in the Salerno doc. These pieces scream commercial writer. Fitzgerald is often trying to up the word count (in-depth, unfunny detailing of mosquito attack, etc), and adding on to essays that don't necessarily need it (Crack-Up). Journalism is great, and all, but much of this felt like uninspired blog fodder, that I only wish people were still paid for! I can roll out a 500-word thought piece on my insomnia or hotels I've stayed in (that one felt like such a writing exercise), or even crank out another obligatory Why I Left New York essay (though to be fair, Fitzgerald was in on the ground floor with that one).
I liked refreshing on F. Scott, but this is mislabeled.
Other thoughts: just because someone was an alcoholic in their personal life doesn't mean they wrote more, or better about alcohol than anyone else. This is a misperception of his work based on his mythos.
Also: this guy is boring. Even in ostensibly hyper-personal essays, he rarely speaks about how he feels. For an essayistic writer, Fitz has an alarming lack of opinion, especially in regards to politics. His gloss on the depression goes something like, "We heard there was a depression back home. We were in a hotel in France. We stayed for two more years." What do we know about him at the end of this book? He wishes he had played football or went to war. What a conventional snooze.
June 9, 2020
A selection of short pieces by the author of The Great Gatsby, some pertaining to the drinking of alcohol.
Book Review: On Booze is not quite as described on the tin: "A collection of F. Scott Fitzgerald's best drinking stories." Rather, these are pieces cherry-picked from the assemblage The Crack-Up (1945) edited by his friend Edmund (Bunny) Wilson and published by New Directions after Fitzgerald's death. (Wilson also edited Fitzgerald's unfinished final novel, The Last Tycoon.) Most of the content (consisting of autobiography, notes, and letters) mention drinking at some point, but few are drinking stories. Much of it reads like sketches for some future novel or story. As with the original source, On Booze is hit or miss, but generally entertaining in a morbid, melancholy, miserable sort of way. Many of the pieces are intensely personal as they were written at a time when Fitzgerald was usually drunk, depressed, desolate, down and out; he appears to have had a nervous breakdown. His writing is always a joy, though. As these works weren't selected by Fitzgerald and are found in the original book, On Booze isn't a necessary part of the canon and is probably of little interest for the casual Jazz Age reader. For the true F. Scott fan in your life, however, this small book would make a perfect "thinking of you" gift. [3★]
Book Review: On Booze is not quite as described on the tin: "A collection of F. Scott Fitzgerald's best drinking stories." Rather, these are pieces cherry-picked from the assemblage The Crack-Up (1945) edited by his friend Edmund (Bunny) Wilson and published by New Directions after Fitzgerald's death. (Wilson also edited Fitzgerald's unfinished final novel, The Last Tycoon.) Most of the content (consisting of autobiography, notes, and letters) mention drinking at some point, but few are drinking stories. Much of it reads like sketches for some future novel or story. As with the original source, On Booze is hit or miss, but generally entertaining in a morbid, melancholy, miserable sort of way. Many of the pieces are intensely personal as they were written at a time when Fitzgerald was usually drunk, depressed, desolate, down and out; he appears to have had a nervous breakdown. His writing is always a joy, though. As these works weren't selected by Fitzgerald and are found in the original book, On Booze isn't a necessary part of the canon and is probably of little interest for the casual Jazz Age reader. For the true F. Scott fan in your life, however, this small book would make a perfect "thinking of you" gift. [3★]
January 19, 2023
4.7⭐️
his mind!! he can pack so much ino just a few pages.
i only wish that fitzgerald had gotten the appreciation he deserved during his time and above all, that he had made the princeton football team
loved the booze theme- in it only being an underlying factor it showed how pervasive it was in the culture; esp enjoyed my lost city and sleeping and waking
"it is sadder to find the past again and find it
inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory."
his mind!! he can pack so much ino just a few pages.
i only wish that fitzgerald had gotten the appreciation he deserved during his time and above all, that he had made the princeton football team
loved the booze theme- in it only being an underlying factor it showed how pervasive it was in the culture; esp enjoyed my lost city and sleeping and waking
"it is sadder to find the past again and find it
inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory."
June 18, 2023
For starters I never liked the Great Gatsby and felt the need to give this guy another chance. Painful slog despite being less than 100 pages. He reminds me of Lucille Bluth throughout with his entitled bitching and complete lack of any perspective. That the longest story is about him quitting the drink, being bored and purposeless isn't quite what I expected.
January 1, 2025
amazing book and wonderful end to 2024. i may be basic but i eat up anything from a lost generation writer. i definitely liked this collection more than i enjoyed great gatsby as a whole, but both show fitzgerald’s prowess. i like to think of fitzgerald as a turbulent rain storm and hemingway as a strong and steady stream, and this collection didn’t change that image. fitzgerald is so so talented at describing the mundane with such fondness and memory that it makes you feel like you’re there, maybe to a point where it detracts from the attention of the reader. how i felt about “show mr and mrs f…,” a great little short story but sometimes hard to focus on. i absolutely adored “my lost city;” it’s exactly how i feel about new york now, over a century later, but NYC with all its symbols and mythology is so easy to idealize, until: “And with the awful realization that New York was a city after all and not a universe, the whole shining edifice that he had reared in his imagination came crashing to the ground.” “sleeping and waking” was also very enchanting— as someone who’s been an insomniac for as long as i can remember, it felt like fitzgerald was casting a light on all of the despair that the smallest thoughts at 3am can deliver.
big fitzgerald fan. i don’t think this book is about drinking more than it’s about a slight detachment to reality, a floating around day to day that is encouraged by drinking. very enjoyable and easy to get to through. some other quotes i enjoyed:
“the city burst thunderously upon us in the early dusk— the white glacier of lower New York swooping down like a strand of a bridge to rise into uptown New York, a miracle of foamy light suspended by the stars. A band started to play on deck, but the majesty of the city made the march trivial and tinkling. From that moment I knew that New York, however often I might leave it, was home.”
“All in the same month I became bitter about such things as the sound of the radio, the advertisements in the magazines, the screech of tracks, the dead silence of the country— contemptuous at human softness, immediately (if secretively) quarrelsome toward hardness—hating the night when I couldn't sleep and hating the day because it went toward night. I slept on the heart side now because I knew that the sooner I could tire that out, even a little, the sooner would come that blessed hour of nightmare which, like a catharsis, would enable me to better meet the new day.”
“When he gets sober for six months and can't stand any of the people he's liked when drunk.”
big fitzgerald fan. i don’t think this book is about drinking more than it’s about a slight detachment to reality, a floating around day to day that is encouraged by drinking. very enjoyable and easy to get to through. some other quotes i enjoyed:
“the city burst thunderously upon us in the early dusk— the white glacier of lower New York swooping down like a strand of a bridge to rise into uptown New York, a miracle of foamy light suspended by the stars. A band started to play on deck, but the majesty of the city made the march trivial and tinkling. From that moment I knew that New York, however often I might leave it, was home.”
“All in the same month I became bitter about such things as the sound of the radio, the advertisements in the magazines, the screech of tracks, the dead silence of the country— contemptuous at human softness, immediately (if secretively) quarrelsome toward hardness—hating the night when I couldn't sleep and hating the day because it went toward night. I slept on the heart side now because I knew that the sooner I could tire that out, even a little, the sooner would come that blessed hour of nightmare which, like a catharsis, would enable me to better meet the new day.”
“When he gets sober for six months and can't stand any of the people he's liked when drunk.”
November 27, 2024
a collection of 5 journal entries all themed on “drinking”, from the author of “the great gatsby”.
the 1st one is a series of rambling musings on how one gets cracked up, meaning losing their mind, and it somewhat boils down to ravenous alcoholism. it’s an account so sprawling (across years) and so unhinged, i was compelled to say what the fuck.
the 2nd one is mini-paragraphs upon mini-paragraphs of some of the most beautiful english writing ever, and it’s just descriptions of hotels, and rivers, and nights, and evening, and sunlights, but there’s never an adjective repeated, and every slice-of-lice action is caressed with utmost prosal invention. i was transported to those places in europe and america. diary writing goals.
the 3rd one is a humorous lamentation on the mosquito epidemic. such a miniscule regularity of common life captured with precise detail. i laughed. and i felt bad. insomnia—as a fear of venomous bites, of being hurt in sleep.
the 4th one letter to new york city, the whole arc from struggling outsider to rapturous acceptance to eventual alienation, parallelled with the golden era of the roaring 20s, the hedonistic heights, every street drowned in booze, and the lacklustre lows. nothing’s left at the end, not even a mirage.
the 5th one has some letters that are more personal yet more formal than i would have expected. a couple of sarcastic jokes, some remarks about scamming the magazines with poor short stories, while focusing on writing a novel (which he considered the real deal). nothing too revelatory, only that this man loved writing but was also haunted by it. who isn’t.
the 1st one is a series of rambling musings on how one gets cracked up, meaning losing their mind, and it somewhat boils down to ravenous alcoholism. it’s an account so sprawling (across years) and so unhinged, i was compelled to say what the fuck.
the 2nd one is mini-paragraphs upon mini-paragraphs of some of the most beautiful english writing ever, and it’s just descriptions of hotels, and rivers, and nights, and evening, and sunlights, but there’s never an adjective repeated, and every slice-of-lice action is caressed with utmost prosal invention. i was transported to those places in europe and america. diary writing goals.
the 3rd one is a humorous lamentation on the mosquito epidemic. such a miniscule regularity of common life captured with precise detail. i laughed. and i felt bad. insomnia—as a fear of venomous bites, of being hurt in sleep.
the 4th one letter to new york city, the whole arc from struggling outsider to rapturous acceptance to eventual alienation, parallelled with the golden era of the roaring 20s, the hedonistic heights, every street drowned in booze, and the lacklustre lows. nothing’s left at the end, not even a mirage.
the 5th one has some letters that are more personal yet more formal than i would have expected. a couple of sarcastic jokes, some remarks about scamming the magazines with poor short stories, while focusing on writing a novel (which he considered the real deal). nothing too revelatory, only that this man loved writing but was also haunted by it. who isn’t.
April 8, 2023
I haven’t read Fitzgerald in more than 25 years, so my recall of his writing (in this case of Gadsby), was very fuzzy.
But there is nothing the least bit vague or blurry about Fitzgerald. The title of this should really be On Life. Though booze plays its part, this is a collection of some of his best non-fiction after Tender Is the Night, such as The Crack-Up and My Lost City. My greatest criticism is this collection also contains a miscellany including an outline, letters and so forth. That this repackaging mishmash is there to fill out a novella-sized airplane reader knocks off a star.
But does this Fitzgerald deserve applause? Absolutely. Even in his decline he’s an incredible stylist who’s true to his voice—which is honest to a fault. We feel his pain and vision, how he looks at life with a detached yet compassionate eye.
But there is nothing the least bit vague or blurry about Fitzgerald. The title of this should really be On Life. Though booze plays its part, this is a collection of some of his best non-fiction after Tender Is the Night, such as The Crack-Up and My Lost City. My greatest criticism is this collection also contains a miscellany including an outline, letters and so forth. That this repackaging mishmash is there to fill out a novella-sized airplane reader knocks off a star.
But does this Fitzgerald deserve applause? Absolutely. Even in his decline he’s an incredible stylist who’s true to his voice—which is honest to a fault. We feel his pain and vision, how he looks at life with a detached yet compassionate eye.
July 19, 2019
"I had discovered the crowning error of the city, its Pandora's box. Full of vaunting pride the New Yorker had climbed here, and seen with dismay what he had never suspected (..) And with that awful realization that New York was a city after all and not a universe, the whole shining edifice that he had reared in his imagination came crashing to the ground."
Big love for Fitzgerald.
Big love for Fitzgerald.
March 24, 2024
'The Crack-up': 10/10 love his writing so much. made me sad that I have been putting off The Great Gatsby for so long.
'Show Mr. and Mrs. F. to Number---': didn't care for it enough to even have anything today about it
'Sleeping and Walking': Real
My Lost City': NEED to reread this in a year
'Show Mr. and Mrs. F. to Number---': didn't care for it enough to even have anything today about it
'Sleeping and Walking': Real
My Lost City': NEED to reread this in a year
December 31, 2025
I read this to meet my reading goal. A random assortment of writing. I liked the recounting of travels/hotel stays in the passage called “Show Mr & Mrs. F. to Number—“ and the ode to New York in “My Lost City.”
March 10, 2024
I laughed
January 8, 2025
I love this book. It is not even about drinking, really, just the musings of a great writer about traveling Europe, insomnia, turning 30, etc.
I will re-read this from time to time. It is so easy to pick up and enjoy
I will re-read this from time to time. It is so easy to pick up and enjoy
June 26, 2025
his whole life is such a vibe
April 19, 2022
“Now the standard cure for one who is sunk is to consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering—this is an all-weather beatitude for gloom in general and fairly salutary day-time advice for everyone. But at three o’clock in the morning, a forgotten package has the same tragic importance as a death sentence, and the cure doesn’t work—and in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.”
July 20, 2024
Oh, no kidding? Fitzgerald wrote about booze?
This one was underwhelming, stick with authorized anthologies, not this coffee table shit.
This one was underwhelming, stick with authorized anthologies, not this coffee table shit.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 229 reviews