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Zelda Nancy Milford 9780060910693 Books

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Zelda Nancy Milford 9780060910693 Books

The unforgettable story of two tragic lives...F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda...

Scott, who struggled so valiantly to make a living by entertaining the public and who was dragged inevitably downward by the drinking he could not control. And Zelda, who yearned to be "someone" in her own right, struck down in her prime by the horror of schizophrenia. A woman who never knew that, by a strange twist of fate, she would someday be as famous as her husband, though not for an artistic accomplishment.

She became author of one book, "Save me the Waltz", but Scott blamed her for appropriating their shared experiences, material that he needed for his own novels, the ones that had a chance of becoming best-sellers and keeping the family afloat. That was his weakness as a novelist: His creative imagination was bounded by his own life, his own experiences and Zelda's.

The author, Nancy Milford, uses Zelda's own words from her desperate, accusatory, apologetic, and finally irrational letters. She also quotes lengthy reminiscences from people who witnessed the Fitzgeralds' excesses in America and as expatriates: Sara and Gerald Moore, Edmund Wilson, Hemingway, longtime editors, and old friends from the Atlanta days.

The reader is left with real admiration for Scott Fitzgerald's unwavering care for a deranged wife whose hospitalization drained his finances even as his books failed to sell and his bank account stood at no more than a hundred dollars. Unsuccessful at writing for the theater, he turned to churning out stories for any magazine that would buy them. And through it all, he kept their daughter in the finest schools.

Much of this heart-wrenching history is revealed in Scott Fitzgerald's own despairing letters to his wife. Even when he began a new life turning out screenplays in Hollywood, even while suffering from pulmonary and heart disease, even after beginning a quiet, orderly affair with journalist Sheila Graham, he never let a week go by without a letter to Zelda in her Eastern asylum.

After years in one sanitarium or another, and after Scott's early death, Zelda, impoverished, returned to live with her mother. Now we see the sad final chapters of a tragic life. We see the faithful, dignified old mother sitting with a visitor on the porch of her Alabama home and hearing from inside a sudden low wail "like that of a wounded animal" and the violent slamming of a door. Three times that summer, she said quietly, she had had to replace the door facing.

I don't think you will find a more tragic story more movingly told. Zelda's death, horrible as it was, probably came as a blessing to her "unquiet shade". That is how it seemed to the few people who saw her to the grave, her place beside Scott, now reunited with her and at peace.


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Zelda Nancy Milford 9780060910693 Books Reviews

I read this years ago and perceived it the story of a feminist victim. I re-read it recently and appreciated that Zelda Fitzgerald was clearly bi-polar and as much a victimizer as a victim. When she was good she was very, very good and when she was bad she was horrid. Still interesting, but a very different slant. Even her fans would not have wanted her in their lives.
While certainly comprehensive in her research (she draws primarily from letters written between Scott and Zelda), my chief problem with this book is that, possibly because of the sheer volume of correspondence she is drawing from, Milford mostly seems focused on Zelda's life in relation to Scott. For example, there are scant 39 pages dedicated to the six years between when F. Scott dies and when Zelda herself passes on, and most of these pages are filled merely with a summary and deconstruction of an unpublished short story that Zelda wrote. I say "scant" because the book is over 400 pages; that these years fly by in the book must speak volumes as to the lack of important events in Zelda's life, I must believe that something noteworthy could have been discussed.

Additionally, I would have loved more about her family life. It is possible that little is known of her relationship with her parents and siblings and even her daughter Scottie (with Scottie expressly), several other important people in her life are merely given the short straw; the pilot in France with whom Zelda may have had an affair with, some of the nurses and doctors in the hospitals, and other close friends. Though she does detail throughout the book Zelda's challenges in establishing long-term friendships with people, it does seem that important moments in Zelda's life are glossed over at times. The Fitzgerald's trips to Africa, Europe, and Cuba are summed up and passed through too quickly.

When reading a biography, I would rather read too much than not enough, but at times, the editing could have been tighter, and moments that were skimmed developed a bit more. Still, for those who read to of the twists and turns of Zelda's and F. Scott's relationship, this book is a must-read.
Mitford does a very good job of taking the reader from Zelda's life as a reckless Montgomery belle to the reckless early years of her marriage to F. Scott Fitzgerald and the sad years of mental illness and the dissolution of their marriage. Zelda wanted s creative life of her own. She tried painting, ballet (resumed lessons too late) and writing. Fitzgerald blocked and co-opted some of her work,; coupled with her instability, it's unclear how she would have developed. I would like to read the one book she wrote. The book is an academic biography, so it is quite factual. It could have used some analysis of Zelda's legacy. Having said that, the version is a disaster, with so many misspellings I often had to read pages twice. Sections of letters or books are poorly differentiated from the rest of the text. Save yourself a headache and get the hard copy.
The unforgettable story of two tragic lives...F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda...

Scott, who struggled so valiantly to make a living by entertaining the public and who was dragged inevitably downward by the drinking he could not control. And Zelda, who yearned to be "someone" in her own right, struck down in her prime by the horror of schizophrenia. A woman who never knew that, by a strange twist of fate, she would someday be as famous as her husband, though not for an artistic accomplishment.

She became author of one book, "Save me the Waltz", but Scott blamed her for appropriating their shared experiences, material that he needed for his own novels, the ones that had a chance of becoming best-sellers and keeping the family afloat. That was his weakness as a novelist His creative imagination was bounded by his own life, his own experiences and Zelda's.

The author, Nancy Milford, uses Zelda's own words from her desperate, accusatory, apologetic, and finally irrational letters. She also quotes lengthy reminiscences from people who witnessed the Fitzgeralds' excesses in America and as expatriates Sara and Gerald Moore, Edmund Wilson, Hemingway, longtime editors, and old friends from the Atlanta days.

The reader is left with real admiration for Scott Fitzgerald's unwavering care for a deranged wife whose hospitalization drained his finances even as his books failed to sell and his bank account stood at no more than a hundred dollars. Unsuccessful at writing for the theater, he turned to churning out stories for any magazine that would buy them. And through it all, he kept their daughter in the finest schools.

Much of this heart-wrenching history is revealed in Scott Fitzgerald's own despairing letters to his wife. Even when he began a new life turning out screenplays in Hollywood, even while suffering from pulmonary and heart disease, even after beginning a quiet, orderly affair with journalist Sheila Graham, he never let a week go by without a letter to Zelda in her Eastern asylum.

After years in one sanitarium or another, and after Scott's early death, Zelda, impoverished, returned to live with her mother. Now we see the sad final chapters of a tragic life. We see the faithful, dignified old mother sitting with a visitor on the porch of her Alabama home and hearing from inside a sudden low wail "like that of a wounded animal" and the violent slamming of a door. Three times that summer, she said quietly, she had had to replace the door facing.

I don't think you will find a more tragic story more movingly told. Zelda's death, horrible as it was, probably came as a blessing to her "unquiet shade". That is how it seemed to the few people who saw her to the grave, her place beside Scott, now reunited with her and at peace.