Aside from the Great Gatsby this is the only other novel I've read by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Years ago when living on a small Caribbean island, with limited things to do, I read a large collection of books that I had had the foresight to bring with me (it got dark at 6pm every evening after which it wasn't safe to leave my apartment). One book was a collection of Fitzgerald's short stories and I enjoyed them immensely. This book I also enjoyed.

The Beautiful and the Damned starts like most of his short stories. Young man falls hopelessly in love with young, beautiful, charming, highly intelligent yet distant girl. Her beauty, her charm draw the young man in like a siren's call. Her smile, which is no more than a mask of aloofness, lets no one in and drives him mad, almost to despair.

Fitzgerald invented the prototype of the Manic Pixie Girl that is so popular in Romantic movies of today. You know the type, she's sweet, sexy, devil-may carish. She dances in the rain, sings along in movie theaters and other behavior that would be considered irresponsible and weird in real life but comes across as funny and sexy in the movies.

The man is mesmerized and the fact that she's just out of reach emotionally keeps him reaching for her. Today's aggressively eager woman might learn a thing or two from these girls. Don't chase the boy, run away and have him chase you.

Ah, but I'm hopelessly old-fashioned. I'm also happily married, but that's a topic for another time.

Most of Fitzgerald's short stories end with the boy finally catching the girl. I don't say they all end happily, they're more complicated than that, but they don't continue into married life.

The Beautiful and the Damned does. The boy in this story, Anthony Patch, does finally catch the girl he passionately pursues but that is half the story. The rest of their story is about their married life. It is not a pretty tale, it is a tragic, but fascinating one.

The interest does not lie in the storyline per se. I suppose lots of authors have written about drunk people racing toward destruction, but Fitzgerald's writing simply bubbles and flows like an icy, clear water brook down a mountain side. His insight into the human soul, his ability to lucidly display its depraved nature, its desperate longing for greater things and its inability to save itself both repels while it simultaneously draws the reader in.

Anthony and Gloria get married. They soon discover that what, on Anthony's part at least, manically attracted them to the other person was not enough to sustain a marriage.

Gloria is still lovely to look at, but her impulsive behavior,self-absorption and strong will have lost some of their allure.

We are not entirely sure why Gloria married Anthony. He perhaps bored her less than the other men who sought her attention. She doesn't seem to have much of a conscience or reason to do anything except have a good time.

And what is a good time to Anthony and Gloria? Getting pleasantly inebriated with friends. This naturally costs money and neither of them have much. Anthony is counting on an inheritance he will receive at his grandfather's death.

Anthony is both contemptuous of his grandfather and also fears him because a wrong move could cost him millions of dollars. His grandfather points out Anthony's lack of ambition and also employment. He offers to provide Anthony employment. Anthony is a writer. His grandfather can get him a job as a war correspondent. (WWI has just started).

Anthony immediately protests. He could never desert Gloria! At the same time he imagines himself in uniform and the glamour this kind of work would give him.

Gloria would also like to work. A friend who produces Hollywood movies would like to give her a screen test. But Anthony absolutely refuses to permit it. His wife will never degrade herself like that.

So what do they do? Live on what little stipend and savings they have, but mostly they spend it on alcohol and parties with friends. They also make very foolish decisions such as renting both a country house and apartment in New York City.

They see that they are acting foolish but cannot seem to stop themselves. They know they must stop holding and attending parties, but when the evening rolls around, the empty life they see around them impels them to the social amusements. Life isn't worth living until after the fifth or sixth drink.

This cannot last and it doesn't. The grandfather dies, but unfortunately he dies shortly after walking in on a typical gathering of Gloria and Anthony's and everyone there is quite sloshed. The grandfather, a strong prohibitionist, goes home, cuts Anthony from his will and dies.

Anthony retains an expensive (and I mean very expensive) lawyer to contest the will. The court case drags on for years in Bleak House-ian style. In the meantime, Anthony is drafted, travels south for training but luckily avoids actual service since the war ends before he finishes boot camp.

He returns to Gloria and they carry on.

The two slide steadily toward the abyss. A few unexpected things happen toward the end and I won't deprive you of a good read by spoiling it.

Anyone familiar with Fitzgerad's real life can see obvious autobiographical connections. I was constantly reminded of Ernest Hemingway's "A Moveable Feast" where Hemingway describes Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda in a way not very different from Anthony and Gloria.

Because they were close friends who spent a lot of time together in Paris, I found myself comparing Hemingway's writing to Fitzgerald's. I can only describe Hemingway's writing as a large, heavy, aggressive predator and Fitzgerald's as a lightweight boxer who rapidly and gracefully dances around his opponent getting jabs in that are only painful to himself. Hemingway enjoyed slaughtering his perceived enemies.

Hemingway's stories may pack a punch, but Fitzgerald's go down as smoothly as one of the alcoholic beverages his characters are forever imbibing.

Not his best, in my opinion, as I found the first half or so very slow and rather dull.

BUT the second half was much more interesting and engrossing, and it was fascinating finding the parallels between Anthony and Gloria’s life and what I know of F. Scott and Zelda’s life.

Only got about 6% into The Beautiful and the Damned before I gave up. I also bailed on Tender is the Night. At some point I'll probably tackle This Side of Paradise just to confirm that I have no use for any of Fitzgerald's novels except Gatsby.

Audio #109

Published in 1922, this book is set mostly in New York during the Jazz Age. It follows the relationship between Anthony Patch and his girlfriend-wife, Gloria. They are part of New York’s high society and lead a rather dissolute lifestyle. Anthony expects to inherit a fortune from his grandfather, but when he is disowned, their lives take a downturn, and their relationship deteriorates. They appear to have everything – beauty, wealth, intelligence – but it is not enough to keep their lives from falling apart.

I have mixed feelings about this work. On the positive side, the prose is wonderful, and places the reader in the midst of a bygone era. On the negative side, it is difficult to root for these self-centered entitled people. It meanders a bit in the middle sections. It is not my favorite of Fitzgerald’s works, but I am glad to have read it.

This is my equal favourite book of all time (tied with Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray) these are excellent companion books based on theme, and offer the most pertinent moral lessons for myself, as I am prone to be like the characters, alas!
Unfortunately I am too much like Becky Sharp of Vanity Fair, and a little too like Anthony Patch from the Beautiful and Damned.

One of my great disappointments in life is that Fitzgerald's other novels, especially The Great Gatsby, perennially grace lists such as the Top 100 Books of All Time!

I was spellbound from the first page, when I first picked up this novel in 1998, from that opening quote "the victor belongs to the spoils", that's right folks, not 'to the victor goes the spoils' but the victor belongs to the spoils... a dire warning against materialism! I felt chills. Its true. Even now. This book gives me the chills.

Its good therapy for me to read this book again every few years, but I beg you, read it at least once in your life!

n  

A thousand taxis would yawn at a thousand corners, and only to him was that kiss forever lost and done. In a thousand guises Thais would hail a cab and turn up her face for loving. And her pallor would be virginal and lovely, and her kiss chaste as the moon...

n
Can anyone write as gorgeously as Fitzgerald about illusion and the ephemeral nature of beauty, loss of love and failure, toxic marriages and breakdowns?

The first time I started this book, it didn't work for me. But it's been nagging at the margins of my consciousness and so I went back to it via an audiobook and this time we clicked. So much so, in fact, that I had to get the book out again as there are passages that really deserve to be read - slowly - rather than just listened to.

In lots of ways, FSF is writing the same book over and over again: this one has elements of This Side of Paradise and looks forward to Tender is the Night, the latter my favourite book of his. This still feels young and a bit uneven in its craft: the 'play scenes' don't really work and feel somewhat awkward; the shifting emphases on Gloria and Anthony, especially the long stretch during which he's in the army, can make the storyline feel a bit ragged - but there are places where the mature Fitzgerald comes startlingly into focus: Gloria's flight to the station at night, her moments of transcendence, the slow breakdown at the end.

And this is funny! FSF's irony makes a fine showing here, and there are places that had me sniggering out loud (Richard Caramel and 'The Demon Lover'!) But the mood overall shifts between glamorous optimism and an kind of aching melancholy. This is no morality tale and is probably not for readers who need to like characters to enjoy a book.

I find it fascinating that for all the constrictions on women at the time, in Fitzgerald's books they somehow survive better than the male protagonists - a biased (and self-pitying?) commentary on Fitzgerald's own marriage? Not quite the story Zelda tells in her 'Save Me the Waltz'.

In any case, I loved this book: it sets up its characters as wealthy, beautiful, privileged, educated (the men, at least), imbued with imagination and lovely dreams only to have them squander everything from money to love, illusions overturned, harsh reality crushing them. Gorgeous, glorious writing from Fitzgerald.

4.5/5

fabulous. just exquisite. fitz’s storytelling definitely isn’t for everyone, but damn do i love his work. this was beautiful and hilarious and tragic all at once. can’t wait to pick up his other works.

Probably a stronger message than the great gatsby, but also less exciting and more miserable. Hopes, dreams, and happiness all slowly devolve into tragedy. Also it doesn’t get going tell about a quarter of the way in.

Smetterò mai di leggere libri che trovano la loro ragion d'essere nell'apparente insignificanza delle cose: i balli sfarzosi, le feste scintillanti, le passeggiate senza meta, il chiacchiericcio frivolo e quell'incontenibile amore per la bellezza in tutte le sue forme? No, perché sono proprio questi dettagli effimeri che addolciscono la vita, che la riempiono di leggerezza, come bollicine di champagne che scoppiettano e ci ricordano di vivere. È l’arte, in ogni sua espressione e dimensione; è l’amore, talvolta ossessivo ma ardente e travolgente; è la giovinezza, quel sogno passeggero che, per quanto fugace, precede il cupo incubo della vecchiaia. “Belli e Dannati” di Fitzgerald incarna il fascino di questa giostra di piaceri superficiali, intrecciati però a una disillusione nascosta. Come Anthony e Gloria ci illudiamo che la bellezza e il piacere possano bastare, che possano salvarci, ma dietro ogni risata riecheggia un vuoto, un'assenza di significato che il lusso da solo non potrà mai colmare. Fitzgerald ci offre un ritratto di una generazione perduta, prigioniera delle proprie consapevolezze e condannata a inseguire il miraggio di una felicità destinata a dissolversi.

— La giovinezza è un sogno, una forma di pazzia chimica. Non ha uno scopo, e non è certo un merito. Ma ci acceca, ci dà una forza illusoria e ci lascia poi in rovina, abbandonati da noi stessi.

4.5⭐️

Matthew 16:26 KJV For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?

Yes, The Beautiful and Damned may be imperfect but it's still gorgeous. Fitzgerald captures the ephemeral beauty and poignancy of life in a way that is tragic, grand, pathetic, and brilliantly ironic all at once. Everyone seems to love Gatsby but I prefer the less polished Tender Is The Night (my favourite) and The Beautiful and Damned, perhaps because the characters are so tenderly young and desperate and because I understand their desire to live vividly and recklessly. I can have pity and hope for them in a way that it's hard to feel for Gatsby, despite their callow, grasping vanities. I was young once, too, after all.

As you may know, Reader, I struggled to get through George Eliot's masterpiece (cue massive eyeroll) Middlemarch. Refer to my review for a detailed explanation, or just read the next sentence of this one. It was boring, basically. There isn't really a plot, it's just a description of some people going about their daily lives with nothing very dramatic ever happening. The same can be said of the plot (term is used loosely here) of The Beautiful and Damned: rich people are miserable, make poor marriage and life choices, continue to be miserable, the end. (I can't say with authority that that's how Middlemarch ends because I didn't finish it, but that's what happened in the first 500 pages) So, logically, I should have hated this book as much as I hated Eliot's. But I didn't, and I think I know why: Fitzgerald's characters are interesting, and their self-destruction is a lot more fascinating than the people at Middlemarch. In that one, Dodo and company were more like unsuspecting tourists wandering too close to the edge of a cliff, about to tumble over without ever knowing what hit them. Anthony and Gloria, the main characters in this book, take a different approach: they run, roaring drunk and screaming, right for the cliff's edge and never look back. It's much more compelling and amazing and sad, and I'm still going to be mean and give the book just three stars because I am adamant that good books should have plots, dammit.

Also, I'm just going to say this and then hide from the Eliot fans' scorn and fury: Fitzgerald is a better writer. And he's funnier. Before you start flaming me in the comments about how I don't know what I'm talking about (well, DUH), I will present the following quotes from The Beautiful and Damned to support my claim:

"A stout woman upholstered in velvet, her flabby cheeks too much massaged, swirled by with her poodle straining at its leash - the effect being given of a tug bringing in an ocean liner. Just behind them a man in a striped blue suit, walking slue-footed in white-spattered feet, grinned at the sight and catching Anthony's eye, winked through the glass. Anthony laughed, thrown immediately into that humor in which men and women were graceless and absurd phantasms, grotesquely curved and rounded in a rectangular world of their own building. They inspired the same sensations in him as did those strange and monstrous fish who inhabit the esoteric world of green in the aquarium."

"In 1913, when Anthony Patch was twenty-five, two years were already gone since irony, the Holy Ghost of this later day, had, theoretically at least, descended upon him. Irony was the final polish of the shoe, the ultimate dab of the clothes-brush, a sort of intellectual "There!" - yet at the brink of this story he has as yet gone no further than the conscious stage. As you first see him he wonders frequently whether he is not without honor and slightly mad, a shameful and obscene thinness glistening on the surface of the world like oil on a clean pond, these occupations being varied, of course, with those in which he thinks himself rather an exceptional young man, thoroughly sophisticated, well adjusted to his environment, and somewhat more significant than any one else he knows. ...In this state he considered that he would one day accomplish some quiet subtle thing that the elect would deem worthy and, passing on, would join the dimmer stars in a nebulous, indeterminate heaven half-way between death and immortality. Until the time came for this effort he would be Anthony Patch - not a portrait of a man but a distinct and dynamic personality, opinionated, contemptuous, functioning from within outward - a man who was aware that there could be no honor and yet had honor, who knew the sophistry of courage and yet was brave."