June 23, 2012
Followers of this blog my remember previous ‘review’ of Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night in which I noted that it was not a book I would have appreciated prior to living abroad but while living abroad it was a positively terrifying book. This Side of Paradise is worse in that it is far too close to home. Paradise, it seems, comes at the apogee of Amory and Isabella’s relationship which coincides neatly with the apogee of Amory’s status at Princeton. While it would be hard to call Amory idealistic or naive, he has a sort of innocence for the the first half of the book, the innocence that comes with believing oneself worldly, urbane, and wise- the innocence of privilege, be it wealth, talent, or beauty, all of which Amory enjoys to a certain degree. The book, however, is written from this side of paradise, the far side: paradise lost. It is not, however, a peon to an idealized past. It is the realization that paradise only ever existed insofar as the subject is able to dwell solely on the self at the expense of all others. Amory’s affairs- as he realizes- are self-actualizing to the extreme. Rather they are self-fashioning. They are what Amory uses to define himself, an Amory he bounces off the Amory fashioned by Monsignor Darcy. While he treasures ‘the fundamental Amory,’ the hard truth gained by the book is quite simply that there is no fundamental Amory. There is only Amory the product of his experiences rather than the master- the commander- of them. Paradise is Princeton. It is the aristocratic life Amory aspires to at Princeton. The ideal of idealized life- a world fashioned by Amory for Amory. At the end, though, when ‘the egoist’ becomes ‘a personage’ it seems the primary knowledge gained by Amory, his self knowledge, is quite simply that he is not the arbiter of his own reality. This is Fitzgerald’s first- and most formally daring- novel. It darts between prose, poetry, and drama to capture a world now almost a century old. And yet it feels strikingly appropriate. And far to close to home for someone reading it on the far side of an Oxford much like Amory’s Princeton- an idea as much as an education- and who’s life, to a great extent, has charted by relationships with women. Amory’s diagnoses of others and himself- and Fitzgerald’s diagnoses of Amory and Amory’s world- ring too true for enjoyment. Amory’s ennui is unsettlingly familiar. As the Gatsby movie approaches, it may be worth dwelling on Fitzgerald, especially for young, privileged people (if you are reading this online, you are privileged, fyi). This Side of Paradise is, in fact, a deeply anti-nostalgic novel, in my opinion. It, like much of Fitzgerald’s work, is the excoriation of nostalgia, the realization that we all must have at some point that that was not paradise and to desire a return is to reject any chance of a future. The past is not castigated, it is simply the past, it is part of who Amory is, but it is not his future. His walk to Princeton is no walk to Emmaus but rather the last grasp at past more beautiful in memory than in truth. 

Followers of this blog my remember previous ‘review’ of Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night in which I noted that it was not a book I would have appreciated prior to living abroad but while living abroad it was a positively terrifying book. This Side of Paradise is worse in that it is far too close to home. Paradise, it seems, comes at the apogee of Amory and Isabella’s relationship which coincides neatly with the apogee of Amory’s status at Princeton. While it would be hard to call Amory idealistic or naive, he has a sort of innocence for the the first half of the book, the innocence that comes with believing oneself worldly, urbane, and wise- the innocence of privilege, be it wealth, talent, or beauty, all of which Amory enjoys to a certain degree. The book, however, is written from this side of paradise, the far side: paradise lost. It is not, however, a peon to an idealized past. It is the realization that paradise only ever existed insofar as the subject is able to dwell solely on the self at the expense of all others. Amory’s affairs- as he realizes- are self-actualizing to the extreme. Rather they are self-fashioning. They are what Amory uses to define himself, an Amory he bounces off the Amory fashioned by Monsignor Darcy. While he treasures ‘the fundamental Amory,’ the hard truth gained by the book is quite simply that there is no fundamental Amory. There is only Amory the product of his experiences rather than the master- the commander- of them. Paradise is Princeton. It is the aristocratic life Amory aspires to at Princeton. The ideal of idealized life- a world fashioned by Amory for Amory. At the end, though, when ‘the egoist’ becomes ‘a personage’ it seems the primary knowledge gained by Amory, his self knowledge, is quite simply that he is not the arbiter of his own reality. This is Fitzgerald’s first- and most formally daring- novel. It darts between prose, poetry, and drama to capture a world now almost a century old. And yet it feels strikingly appropriate. And far to close to home for someone reading it on the far side of an Oxford much like Amory’s Princeton- an idea as much as an education- and who’s life, to a great extent, has charted by relationships with women. Amory’s diagnoses of others and himself- and Fitzgerald’s diagnoses of Amory and Amory’s world- ring too true for enjoyment. Amory’s ennui is unsettlingly familiar. As the Gatsby movie approaches, it may be worth dwelling on Fitzgerald, especially for young, privileged people (if you are reading this online, you are privileged, fyi). This Side of Paradise is, in fact, a deeply anti-nostalgic novel, in my opinion. It, like much of Fitzgerald’s work, is the excoriation of nostalgia, the realization that we all must have at some point that that was not paradise and to desire a return is to reject any chance of a future. The past is not castigated, it is simply the past, it is part of who Amory is, but it is not his future. His walk to Princeton is no walk to Emmaus but rather the last grasp at past more beautiful in memory than in truth. 

5:11pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZmxX6yNz4Ssk
(Notes: 2)
  
Filed under: Fitzgerald F. Scott Fitzgerald This Side of Paradise Novel Book Literature Literacy Book Review Bookreview Review Jazz Age 
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