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Tuesday, March 07, 2006 at 11:55 AM

Good Literary Sex

Every so often, I get the inclination to listen to books on tape as I drive half an hour to work. A few weeks ago, I picked up Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. One of the things I find attractive about it is that it is the story of American expatriots in Europe after WWI. For some reason, I have this thing about World War I. It just seems so sad because it seemed to mark such an abrupt loss of innocence. Anyway, I had never read Fitzgerald before. Somehow I slipped past the high school required reading of The Great Gatsby. It's not too hard to understand why he's considered one of the great American novelists. The contrast between the way he says things, and the way some of the contemporary novelists I've read lately is interesting. The way the latter convey an idea is a bit poetic, and somewhat detatched in an ethereal, thoughtful sort of way. Not having any expamples at the moment, I can only "prove" my point by saying that is the sort of feeling they left me with. Fitzgerald is definitely not poetic, but his descriptions are brilliant. Not so much of places and things, but of people, emotions, motivations and to a lesser extent, ideas. He is probably best at describing the momentary in but a phrase or two, but because he pins down a particular, peculiar feeling, that fleeting impulse becomes almost tangible somehow. In verbalizing a sentiment, I often "knew" just what he meant. I also enjoy his little barbs of sarcasm and satire.

Another great thing about this book is the sex. (For other rants on sex in books, see 1/22/06 and 9/27/05.) Fitzgerald satisfies all my requirements for novel sex, or sex in novels. He doesn't write about it to titillate. He often spends a great deal of time describing kisses, embraces, feelings and all the things that lead up to coitus. He may hint at or suggest goings on. The reader's imagination may take it further or choose to be obtuse about it all. Secondly, every single time sex is mentioned or people do it, it does something to the plot, or the relationship between characters is dramatically changed. Imagine that. Good, novel sex. I was dubious of its existance, but Fitzgerald pulled it off.

The book is about Dick Diver and the eventual decay of his marriage to one of his extremely wealthy psychological patients. For some reason, critics and reviewers like to dub it a "descent into madness." Mostly, I think they are just really happy to have an excuse to use that phrase because nobody takes reefer madness seriously anymore. I'd say a more accurate theme is one of promise unfullfilled. At the beginning of the book, Dick is unbelievably charming, is well respected in his field, has written a book and is working on a second, important book in his field. The rest of the book describes his subsequent deterioration, where he ends up mediocre. This is a book I will probably have to sit down with sometime and read with my own two eyes.

By adriennelibrarian at 11:55 AM

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