"The dominant influences on F. Scott Fitzgerald were aspiration, literature, Princeton, Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, and alcohol."Having said this, Bruccoli tries to take the position that it does not matter how fascinating Fitzgerald's life was, nor how many parallels we find in the work--what matters is that work itself. In the case of This Side of Paradise, it seems very hard not to return to The Romantic Egoist (the rejected version of the novel) and the list provided above by Bruccoli as deeply explanatory of the novel that was eventually published in 1920. Yet, giving the book its right to exist independently of its author--which is a core principle of the "New Criticism" that was to achieve a decades-long supremacy starting in the late 1930s--one is struck by the immaturity and lostness of its protagonist, Amory Blaine. He thinks of his sophomore year in college as the height of his life, and he is struck in the later pages of the novel by the realization that "modern life" has begun to change "year by year, ten times faster than it ever has before" (272). Blaine seems often ironically presented, and his being labelled a "Romantic Egotist" suggests he has a way to travel. How far does he really get by the end of the novel, beyond the realization just quoted?
-- Matthew J. Bruccoli, A Brief Life of Fitzgerald
Monday, September 30, 2013
This Side of Paradise
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If Amory's quest is one toward maturity, his biggest obstacle in reaching it is an overall lack of responsibility and accountability. From a young age, he never takes his studies seriously and thinks himself physically, socially, and mentally superior to the other kids at school. The only area where Amory doesn't claim superiority is in his emotions, which run largely unchecked through most of the novel, as evidenced by how easily he falls for women. Amory's actions--from his thought that the war should be "long and bloody" lest he feel "like an irate ticket holder at a prizefight where the principals refused to mix it up" (41) to his drunken bender after being dumped by Rosalind--denote an overall artifice and superficiality. Fitzgerald furthers this by having nearly the entirety of Amory's relationship with Rosalind play out in dramatic form, as if the protagonists are merely acting out staged half-truths. It comes as a surprise then when, at the end of the book, Amory sees fit to entertain thoughts of poor people, something he's never done before as he's "completely lacking in all human sympathy" (194). At this point, we get to see Amory finally thinking about his life --and others--rather than simply drifting through it. Amory has come far enough in his maturity to realize that he is a selfish being and that said selfishness is "the most living part" of him, but where are we to assume this realization takes him (211)? Is Amory on a path to further enlightenment? The book's final sentence--"'I know myself...but that is all'"--would seem to indicate that the answer is no, that Amory hasn't really progressed very far from the young boy who thought himself superior to his classmates (213). Amory has matured toward a self-realization that amounts to nothing more than navel-gazing. As he continues to pine for the Rosalind he cannot have, he seems destined to maintain his solipsistic path.
ReplyDeleteAmory seems to believe that he has matured and grown into himself over the years simply because time has elapsed, but in my opinion, he is the same selfish and restless “Romantic Egotist” that he was when he was in school. He may have accumulated some life experience and has had his moments of self-doubt and reflection, which would generally strengthen one’s character and adjust one’s self-perception, yet Amory continually falls back to his old, self-absorbed ways. Although he proclaims to Eleanor that he is as romantic as she is, he is both capriciously romantic and sentimental. He expounds that “the sentimental person thinks things will last—the romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won’t.” (172). It is interesting that at least twice Amory vocally makes this distinction, because he has the ability to have either one of these perspectives depending on his situation. Oftentimes, he is the sentimentalist cleaving to the products or “ghosts” of his own imagination, often failing to see the reality of his situation, such as his experience with Rosalind. As Michael noted in his post, most of Amory’s relationship with Rosalind is depicted in dramatic form, suggesting that their relationship and the sheer “realness” he feels lies entirely in his own imagination, thus his sentimental perspective in which he blindly believes that their love will last. But when he meets Eleanor, his attitude shifts more to the side of romanticism because he sees himself in her. Being able to view his own wit and intelligence, he inherently knows that things cannot last between them because he is too self-absorbed to focus his attention on another extension of himself. His love for himself becomes clear when he realizes “as [he] loved himself in Eleanor, so now what he hated was only a mirror.” (180). Seeing his own faults and self-absorption staring right back at him, he sees his true self, rather than the self he imagines himself to be. When he is with Eleanor, he even attempts to stop being himself, and tries to be Rupert Brooke instead, because there is too much of himself present between him and her. Amory never reaches self-actualization and transcends the boundaries of his own romantic egotism because he is too absorbed in his own imagination to see the reality of who he truly is. Although Amory shifts his attitudes throughout the years, he will remain a vain, selfish egomaniac, seeking praise and attention wherever he may find it in order to remain trapped inside his own imagination of himself and to avoid facing the reality of his own egotism.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Shanna and Michael that Amory remains as selfish, lost, and immature as he was when he was a school boy. Like many young people, Amory seeks an identity for himself. However, his interests, girls and literature, seem forced and insincere. His pretentiousness is absolutely unbearable, but it is his defining characteristic. Without out, he would be lost. There is a feeling that he might be realizing this at the end, but it arguable if he will grow from this realization or not. The fact that he is "contemplating socialism as possible [his] forte" suggests that his fickleness will be hanging around for a while.
ReplyDeleteAside from maybe his relationship with Monsignor Darcy, Amory lacks any real connection to humanity. He is disconnected from human experience. Instead, he views his existence as if it were written in a book. He fancies himself a famous intellectual figure without having achieved anything. This reflects the self-absorption of modern society as a whole. I would argue that Amory is isolated because of a larger, collective selfishness.
The wonderful element of this novel is its humor and irony. Fitzgerald examines some pretty heavy post-WWI stuff: the loss of morality and human identity to pave way for modern progress etc., but it's also darkly comedic.