Saturday, August 13, 2011

May Day

the art of the novella reading challenge 11/42: may day 
by f. scott fitzgerald


I like to think that I have never met a Fitzgerald (book that is) that I don't like so I am preferring to think of this one as a precursor to Gatsby, a warm up. The easy elegance that I associate with the author only appears in spurts here, and the shifts in narrative tone are a little jarring. The distinctions drawn between the classes are not so subtle that the depth of their meaning reaches you gradually, but instead, hit you with blunt force trauma. This is an immature work.

This story of the clashes between socialists and just-home soldiers and the privileged young men of New York on a single day in May after the close of the first world war is not without its moments though. The introduction, although a bit over-played, is a clever reminder that the American story is a crafted object often, a thing of legend or folklore. An early description in the book of beautiful shirts seen from the eyes of someone who cannot afford them reminds me strongly of Daisy's textile admiration in Gatsby, how clothing marks the classes.

"Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow, with pale blue stripe - and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared involuntarily at his own shirt-cuffs - they were ragged and linty at the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he held his coat-sleeves down and worked the frayed shirt-cuffs up till they were out of sight. Then he went to the mirror and looked at himself with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded and thumb-creased - it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes of his collar. He thought, quite without amusement, that only three years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections at college for bring the best-dressed man in his class."

And there were single lines throughout that pleased like "The windows of the big shops were dark; over their doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs of the late day's splendor." But overall it just wasn't enough.

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