edited by Matthew J. Bruccoli (Scribners, 1989)
Pages 3-24
Since it was the first story in my "collection" you'd think I would've started there, right? No. I'm an odd girl that way. But finally I went with the first story...so presented first probably because it was his first piece to appear in the Saturday Evening Post (February 1920).
It is obvious that F. Scott was only 24 when this was written. There is a sense of hopefulness and big dreams. It all crashes, of course--in the typical Fitzgerald way. But I love that way.
We are introduced to the "infant prodigy," Horace Tarbox and his extreme brain and deep thoughts. He has entered college at the tender age of 13 and cares more about his academic pursuits than the world around him. (HEY! What's wrong with that??)
As a joke, his cousin sends an actress to his room one night. Oh no! The trouble begins! He hears the rapping at his door "--three seconds leaked by--the rap sounded."
(The Raven anyone? THE RAVEN? All I could think about was Poe here.)
Horace is almost 18 while the very mature Marcia Meadow is 19. She is bold and just sits right down in one of his reading chairs: "Horace stared at her dazedly. The momentary suspicion came to him that she existed there only as a phantom of his imagination."
She grabs his attention, by her boldness and ability to spout off dramatic lines from plays. Eventually he agrees to attend one of her plays--after my favorite exchange in the story:
"No," interrupted Marcia emphatically. "And you're a sweet boy. Come here and kiss me."
Horace stopped quickly in front of her.
"Why do you want me to kiss you?" he asked intently. "Do you just go round kissing people?"
"Why, yes," admitted Marcia, unruffled. "'At's all life is. Just going round kissing people."
Wisdom, again, in just a snippet of dialogue. F. Scott gets me every time, with every single moment he captures. Of course--there will be kissing, there will even be a marriage between the unlikely couple and a complete role reversal by the end. And even one of my favorite words--syncopated--makes its appearance.
"Poor gauzy souls trying to express ourselves in something tangible. Marcia with her written book; I with my unwritten ones. Trying to choose our mediums and then taking what we get--and being glad."
Never answer the door when someone knocks--you never know who it might be...you never know what they may take from you.
~~J
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