Scott Fitzgerald stuff

For anyone who doesn't yet know, let me just say that I love Scott Fitzgerald. I love his work but, even more, I love his letters. When I was at GSU, I used to snag a tiny table in a deserted corner of the library at night, get the book of his letters from the shelf, and spend hours poring over them. The man who came through those letters was often witty and warm, but could be critical and off-putting, too. I was fascinated.

Later, while in library school, during one of our visits to a local used book store (made while ditching Library Automation), I found a copy of the letters for a measly $5. I was thrilled. The book immediately joined the elite collection of books I keep on a shelf by my bed.

I have since accepted that he was likely not the Romantic hero I held him to be -- although that view was tarnished fairly early on. I accepted that it was unfair of me to hold a grudge against Papa (whom I have also since come to love) for his seeming unpleasantness toward Scott.

But I still think he wrote great letters.

All of this rambling on about Scott just to tell y'all that the New York Times is running a story about the years he spent in Hollywood, the screenplays he produced, and the heartbreaking lack of success that seems one of the unfortunate hallmarks of his life.