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Tender Is the Night [NOOK Book]

Overview

In Tender Is The Night, Fitzgerald deliberately set out to write the most ambitious and far-reaching novel of his career, experimenting radically with narrative conventions of chronology and point of view and drawing on early breakthroughs in psychiatry to enrich his account of the makeup and breakdown of character and culture.

First published in 1934, Fitzgerald's classic story of psychological disintegration was denounced by many as an unflattering portrayal of ...

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Tender Is the Night

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Overview

In Tender Is The Night, Fitzgerald deliberately set out to write the most ambitious and far-reaching novel of his career, experimenting radically with narrative conventions of chronology and point of view and drawing on early breakthroughs in psychiatry to enrich his account of the makeup and breakdown of character and culture.

First published in 1934, Fitzgerald's classic story of psychological disintegration was denounced by many as an unflattering portrayal of Sara and Gerald Murphy (in the guise of characters Dick and Nicole Driver), who had been generous hosts to many expatriates.

Only after Fitzgerald's death was Tender Is the Night recognized as a powerful and moving depiction of the human frailties that affect privileged and ordinary people alike.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
You can generally count on Naxos to produce superb audios of classics--but not this time. Trevor White gives a dull performance, though he handles conversation and dialogue better than straight narration and is not bad at accents. His emphases are stilted; he drops his voice at the ends of most sentences; and he reads every word so carefully he throws off the rhythms and phrasing, and thus the tone and meaning. A disappointing reading of Fitzgerald's last, most lyrical, most autobiographical novel. (Aug.)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9783736811799
  • Publisher: BookRix
  • Publication date: 5/14/2014
  • Sold by: Readbox
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 446
  • Sales rank: 71,092
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author

Francis Scott (Key) Fitzgerald's (1896-1940) posthumous literary reputation has remained consistently strong despite many highs and lows throughout his brief life. His best-known novel, The Great Gatsby (1925) remains a critical favorite along with Tender is the Night (1934). Most of Fitzgerald's works are loosely based on his life, including his wife Zelda's insanity and his appreciation for personal indulgence and self-destructive excess.

Biography

The greatest writers often function in multifaceted ways, serving as both emblems of their age and crafters of timeless myth. F. Scott Fitzgerald surely fits this description. His work was an undeniable product of the so-called Jazz Age of the 1920s, yet it has a quality that spans time, reaching backward into gothic decadence and forward into the future of a rapidly decaying America. Through five novels, six short story collections, and one collection of autobiographical pieces, Fitzgerald chronicled a precise point in post-WWI America, yet his writing resonates just as boldly today as it did nearly a century ago.

Fitzgerald's work was chiefly driven by the disintegration of America following World War I. He believed the country to be sinking into a cynical, Godless, depraved morass. He was never reluctant to voice criticism of America's growing legions of idle rich. Recreating a heated confrontation with Ernest Hemingway in a short story called "The Rich Boy," Fitzgerald wrote, "Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me. They possess and enjoy early, and it does something to them, makes them soft where we are hard, and cynical where we are trustful, in a way that, unless you were born rich, it is very difficult to understand. They think, deep in their hearts, that they are better than we are because we had to discover the compensations and refuges of life for ourselves. Even when they enter deep into our world or sink below us, they still think that they are better than we are. They are different."

The preceding quote may sum Fitzgerald's philosophy more completely than any other, yet he also hypocritically embodied much of what he claimed to loathe. Fitzgerald spent money freely, threw lavish parties, drank beyond excess, and globe-trotted with his glamorous but deeply troubled wife Zelda. Still, in novel after novel, he sought to expose the great chasm that divided the haves from the have-nots and the hollowness of wealth. In This Side of Paradise (1920) he cynically follows opulent, handsome Amory Blaine as he bounces aimlessly from Princeton to the military to an uncertain, meaningless future. In The Beautiful and the Damned (1922) Fitzgerald paints a withering portrait of a seemingly idyllic marriage between a pair of socialites that crumbles in the face of Adam Patch's empty pursuit of profit and the fading beauty of his vane wife Gloria.

The richest example of Fitzgerald's disdain for the upper class arrived three years later. The Great Gatsby is an undoubted American classic, recounting naïve Nick Carraway's involvement with a coterie of affluent Long Islanders, and his ultimate rejection of them when their casual decadence leads only to internal back-stabbing and murder. Nick is fascinated by the mysterious Jay Gatsby, who had made the fatal mistake of stepping outside of his lower class status to pursue the lovely but self-centered Daisy Buchanan.

In The Great Gatsby, all elements of Fitzgerald's skills coalesced to create a narrative that is both highly readable and subtly complex. His prose is imbued with elegant lyricism and hard-hitting realism. "It is humor, irony, ribaldry, pathos and loveliness," Edwin C. Clark wrote of the book in the New York Times upon its 1925 publication. "A curious book, a mystical, glamorous story of today. It takes a deeper cut at life than hitherto has been essayed by Mr. Fitzgerald."

Gatsby is widely considered to be Fitzgerald's masterpiece and among the very greatest of all American literature. It is the ultimate summation of his contempt for the Jazz-Age with which he is so closely associated. Gatsby is also one of the clearest and saddest reflections of his own destructive relationship with Zelda, which would so greatly influence the mass of his work.

Fitzgerald only managed to complete one more novel -- Tender is the Night -- before his untimely death in 1940. An unfinished expose of the Hollywood studio system titled The Love of the Last Tycoon would be published a year later. Still The Great Gatsby remains his quintessential novel. It has been a fixture of essential reading lists for decades and continues to remain an influential work begging to be revisited. It has been produced for the big screen three times and was the subject of a movie for television starring Toby Stephens, Mira Sorvino, and Paul Rudd as recently as 2000. Never a mere product of a bygone age, F. Scott Fitzgerald's greatest work continues to evade time.

Good To Know

In 1937, Fitzgerald moved to Hollywood to pursue a screenwriting career. He only completed a single screenplay Three Comrades during this time before being fired for his excessive drinking.

He held a very romantic view of Princeton before attending the university in 1913. However, his failure to maintain adequate grades or become the football star he dreamed to be lead to an early end to his studies in 1917.

Fitzgerald owes a his name to another famous American writer. He was named after Francis Scott Key, the composer of "The Star Spangled Banner," who also happened to be a distant relative of Fitzgerald's.

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    1. Also Known As:
      Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (real name)
    1. Date of Birth:
      September 24, 1896
    2. Place of Birth:
      St. Paul, Minnesota
    1. Date of Death:
      December 21, 1940

Read an Excerpt

From Book 1 On the pleasant shore of the French Riviera, about half way between Marseilles and the Italian border, stands a large, proud, rose-colored hotel. Deferential palms cool its flushed facade, and before it stretches a short dazzling beach. Lately it has become a summer resort of notable and fashionable people; a decade ago it was almost deserted after its English clientele went north in April. Now, many bungalows cluster near it, but when this story, begins only the cupolas of a dozen old villas rotted like water lilies among the massed pines between Gausse's Hôtel des Étrangers and Cannes, five miles away.

The hotel and its bright tan prayer rug of a beach were one. In the early morning the distant image of Cannes, the pink and cream of old fortifications, the purple Alp that bounded Italy, were cast across the water and lay quavering in the ripples and rings sent up by sea-plants through the clear shallows. Before eight a man came down to the beach in a blue bathrobe and with much preliminary application to his person of the chilly water, and much grunting and loud breathing, floundered a minute in the sea. When he had gone, beach and bay were quiet for an hour. Merchantmen crawled westward on the horizon; bus boys shouted in the hotel court; the dew dried upon the pines. In another hour the horns of motors began to blow down from the winding road along the low range of the Maures, which separates the littoral from true Provencal France.

A mile from the sea, where pines give way to dusty poplars, is an isolated railroad stop, whence one June morning in 1925 a victoria brought a woman and her daughter down to Gausse's Hotel. The mother's face was of a fading prettiness that would soon be patted with broken veins; her expression was both tranquil and aware in a pleasant way. However, one's eye moved on quickly to her daughter, who had magic in her pink palms and her cheeks lit to a lovely flame, like the thrilling flush of children after their cold baths in the evening. Her fine forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet, and shining, the color of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood -- she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her.

As sea and sky appeared below them in a thin, hot line the mother said:

"Something tells me we're not going to like this place."

"I want to go home anyhow," the girl answered.

They both spoke cheerfully but were obviously without direction and bored by the fact -- moreover, just any direction would not do. They wanted high excitement, not from the necessity of stimulating jaded nerves but with the avidity of prize-winning schoolchildren who deserved their vacations.

"We'll stay three days and then go home. I'll wire right away for steamer tickets."

At the hotel the girl made the reservation in idiomatic but rather flat French, like something remembered. When they were installed on the ground floor she walked into the glare of the French windows and out a few steps onto the stone veranda that ran the length of the hotel. When she walked she carried herself like a ballet-dancer, not slumped down on her hips but held up in the small of her back. Out there the hot light clipped close her shadow and she retreated -- it was too bright to see. Fifty yards away the Mediterranean yielded up its pigments, moment by moment, to the brutal sunshine: below the balustrade a faded Buick cooked on the hotel drive.

Indeed, of all the region only the beach stirred with activity. Three British nannies sat knitting the slow pattern of Victorian England, the pattern of the forties, the sixties, and the eighties, into sweaters and socks, to the tune of gossip as formalized as incantation; closer to the sea a dozen persons kept house under striped umbrellas, while their dozen children pursued unintimidated fish through the shallows or lay naked and glistening with cocoanut oil out in the sun.

As Rosemary came onto the beach a boy of twelve ran past her and dashed into the sea with exultant cries. Feeling the impactive scrutiny of strange faces, she took off her bathrobe and followed. She floated face down for a few yards and finding it shallow staggered to her feet and plodded forward, dragging slim legs like weights against the resistance of the water. When it was about breast high, she glanced back toward shore: a bald man in a monocle and a pair of tights, his tufted chest thrown out, his brash navel sucked in, was regarding her attentively. As Rosemary returned the gaze the man dislodged the monocle, which went into hiding amid the facetious whiskers of his chest, and poured himself a glass of something from a bottle in his hand.

Rosemary laid her face on the water and swam a choppy little four-beat crawl out to the raft. The water reached up for her, pulled her down tenderly out of the heat, seeped in her hair and ran into the corners of her body. She turned round and round in it, embracing it, wallowing in it. Reaching the raft she was out of breath, but a tanned woman with very white teeth looked down at her, and Rosemary, suddenly conscious of the raw whiteness of her own body, turned on her back and drifted toward shore. The hairy man holding the bottle spoke to her as she came out.

"I say -- they have sharks out behind the raft." He was of indeterminate nationality, but spoke English with a slow Oxford drawl. "Yesterday they devoured two British sailors from the flotte at Golfe Juan."

"Heavens!" exclaimed Rosemary.

"They come in for the refuse from the flotte."

Glazing his eyes to indicate that he had only spoken in order to warn her, he minced off two steps and poured himself another drink.

Not unpleasantly self-conscious, since there had been a slight sway of attention toward her during this conversation, Rosemary looked for a place to sit. Obviously each family possessed the strip of sand immediately in front of its umbrella; besides there was much visiting and talking back and forth -- the atmosphere of a community upon which it would be presumptuous to intrude. Farther up, where the beach was strewn with pebbles and dead sea-weed, sat a group with flesh as white as her own. They lay under small hand-parasols instead of beach umbrellas and were obviously less indigenous to the place. Between the dark people and the light, Rosemary found room and spread out her peignoir on the sand.

Lying so, she first heard their voices and felt their feet skirt her body and their shapes pass between the sun and herself. The breath of an inquisitive dog blew warm and nervous on her neck; she could feel her skin broiling a little in the heat and hear the small exhausted wa-waa of the expiring waves. Presently her ear distinguished individual voices and she became aware that some one referred to scornfully as "that North guy" had kidnapped a waiter from a cafe in Cannes last night in order to saw him in two. The sponsor of the story was a white-haired woman in full evening dress, obviously a relic of the previous evening, for a tiara still clung to her head and a discouraged orchid expired from her shoulder. Rosemary, forming a vague antipathy to her and her companions, turned away.

Nearest her, on the other side, a young woman lay under a roof of umbrellas making out a list of things from a book open on the sand. Her bathing suit was pulled off her shoulders and her back, a ruddy, orange brown, set off by a string of creamy pearls, shone in the sun. Her face was hard and lovely and pitiful. Her eyes met Rosemary's but did not see her. Beyond her was a fine man in a jockey cap and red-striped tights; then the woman Rosemary had seen on the raft, and who looked back at her, seeing her; then a man with a long face and a golden, leonine head, with blue tights and no hat, talking very seriously to an unmistakably Latin young man in black tights, both of them picking at little pieces of seaweed in the sand. She thought they were mostly Americans, but something made them unlike the Americans she had known of late.

After a while she realized that the man in the jockey cap was giving a quiet little performance for this group; he moved gravely about with a rake, ostensibly removing gravel and meanwhile developing some esoteric burlesque held in suspension by his grave face. Its faintest ramification had become hilarious, until whatever he said released a burst of laughter. Even those who, like herself, were too far away to hear, sent out antennae of attention until the only person on the beach not caught up in it was the young woman with the string of pearls. Perhaps from modesty of possession she responded to each salvo of amusement by bending closer over her list.

The man of the monocle and bottle spoke suddenly out of the sky above Rosemary.

"You are a ripping swimmer."

She demurred.

"Jolly good. My name is Campion. Here is a lady who says she saw you in Sorrento last week and knows who you are and would so like to meet you."

Glancing around with concealed annoyance Rosemary saw the untanned people were waiting. Reluctantly she got up and went over to them.

"Mrs. Abrams -- Mrs. McKisco -- Mr. McKisco -- Mr. Dumphry --"

"We know who you are," spoke up the woman in evening dress. "You're Rosemary Hoyt and I recognized you in Sorrento and asked the hotel clerk and we all think you're perfectly marvellous and we want to know why you're not back in America making another marvellous moving picture."

They made a superfluous gesture of moving over for her. The woman who had recognized her was not a Jewess, despite her name. She was one of those elderly "good sports" preserved by an imperviousness to experience and a good digestion into another generation.

"We wanted to warn you about getting burned the first day," she continued cheerily, "because your skin is important, but there seems to be so darn much formality on this beach that we didn't know whether you'd mind."

Copyright © 1933, 1934 by Charles Scribner's Sons

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Table of Contents

Chronology of composition; Introduction; Tender Is the Night; Record of variants; Explanatory notes; Illustrations.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 69 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(31)

4 Star

(23)

3 Star

(5)

2 Star

(5)

1 Star

(5)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 68 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2010

    Good Book

    Prior to reading Tender Is the Night the only thing I had ever read by Fitzgerald was The Great Gatsby and I wasn't too crazy about that. Taking a chance with this one, I was well rewarded. This book was so sad, but compelling. I felt it was about the choices people make, how so many people do what they feel is the right thing, but it really isn't. I also found the atmospheric details of Americans in Europe during the 1920s to be rich and vivid. I found Rosemary to be an especially interesting character, and wondered what happened to her long after the novel ended. Dick was the saddest character, starting with so much promise and eventually fading away.

    6 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 22, 2006

    Profound Tragedy

    I wasn't sure what to expect when I first started this book. I'd read The Great Gatsby, and loved Fitzgerald's prose, but wasn't sure what to anticipate with something else. But I was pleasantly surprised. Never failing, Fitzgerald manages to depict and enhance his characters and their interactions with details that most other authors are unable to capture. The story lays out the lives of wealthy American expatriates, focusing on the deterioration of a marriage between Dick and Nicole Diver. With Dick, we see a man once regarded for his genuine charm, care, and gregariousness. Yet entrenched in the superficiality of European life...being a doctor at a sanitarium bombarded with a spectrum of psychiatric patients...married to a woman with frequent nervous breakdowns...and lured on by the whimsical innocence of an American actress, once heartfelt outgoingness turns into bitterness and a tool Dick uses to deride others. Additionally, Nicole's fluctuation of emotion, inability to fit in because of it, and dissatisfaction with Dick's distancing himself, combine to ruin their marriage. This was one of the saddest, yet truest love stories I've read--being almost circumstantial that they ceased to love each other, and nothing of their own doing. I strongly recommend.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 27, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Awe inspriring

    I was twelve when I read this, I was staying in Italy and was homesick, this book had me hanging on each word, amaing eve a thirteen year old could see that!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 18, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Breathtaking

    Ernest Hemingway, Fitzgerald's "frienemy", called this book a masterpiece. And he was right. Every word on every page of this book is utterly gorgeous. The plot, the characters, the dialogue, the setting in the Riviera, all of it breathtaking perfection. The first time I read it, I could not put it down for two straight days. It was just that good. Bless you, Mr. Fitzgerald, wherever you are, for giving us this work of art.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 17, 2011

    Wonderful!

    It's one of those books that is about nothing, yet about everything. A good read, and hard to put down.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 15, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    My favorite book

    I don't think I've ever read anything that was written quite like this novel. The language is exquisite, each sentence like a glorious shiny unique gem.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 27, 2005

    A luxureously dark tragic

    I liked this book. The way everything was so detailed made it easier to visualize everything that was going on. Though you really had to be into it and paying attention or else you were completely lost. I also liked the short chapters, though they were packed with thrills and adventures. The French in the book would have been cool but I don't know any French so I hopped over it and continued reading and it never hindered my understanding of the book. What turned me on to this book was F. Scott's writing style, he is so photogenic in his writing style and telling of the setting make you feel like you are right there when tragedy sticks or when two characters fall in love. Also if you love the French country side or just like reading about it you will like this book. All in all I think if you like analyzing and doing some deep sea reading that you will love Tender is the Night. And tell your friends.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 27, 2005

    Wonderful Plot!

    This romance novel is about multiple relationships mingling together. Rosemary first meets Dick Diver and instantly falls in love with him. The one problem is that Dick is married to Nicole. However, does Dick really love Nicole enough to stay with her, or is the beautiful Rosemary the one he loves? This novel is filled with interesting twists and turns on love. F. Scott Fitzgerald had a wonderful plot in this novel. He did an excellent job of showing his readers that money can lead to power, and all of that combined can destroy a wonderful person. This novel was wonderful, but the style in which he used was not my favorite. I have never read any of his other books and could not compare them, but if the style of his others were this horrible, then I would probably dislike them as I did this one. I did not like how he wrote the book in different time periods. He had his first book (the beginning) in present time, the second book (the middle) took place a few years before the first book, and then the third book (the end) took place a few years after the first. It was really hard to follow, but overall the story line was good.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 4, 2005

    Excellent read

    'Tender is the Night' is a very good book. I like Fitzgerald's style of writing and I also like how it is set in the 1920's. All of his character's were well-built and upon reading the book I felt as if I personally knew each one. This book is one of my favorites of Fitzgerald's. The only thing that I didn't like about it were the French words because I don't speak French. The rest of the book, however, was very good and an excellent read for fans of Fitzgerald.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 8, 2014

    Remember that freud was very popular then

    And he had well covered the incest actual and imaginary jung was doing very well with the famous faily never cured anyone but milked them for a complete institute with nary a patient and one doctor jung any doctor marries his oatient needs his head examined

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 9, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    Such a sad story but I couldn't put it down once I started it

    Such a sad story but I couldn't put it down once I started it

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  • Posted January 13, 2014

    I Also Recommend:

    While Fitzgerald proved his genius with The Great Gatsby, I migh

    While Fitzgerald proved his genius with The Great Gatsby, I might not so readily attribute that much to this somewhat autobiographical story about people mostly abroad in Europe. I found it hard to like the characters in the story, and things don’t all resolve substantially at once like in The Great Gatsby. The narrative style is what kept me reading this book to the end. Also, there are enough other characters who pop up in the story to keep things lukewarm interesting.

    A product I would recommend is Sirens of Morning Light by Benjamin Anderson, a quest for a man in Iowa to regain his identity, which becomes entangled with people who claim to have known him when he discovers he is a scientific experiment. I believe the characters make sense in following through for what seems to be their rights.

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  • Posted August 2, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Hidden Depths I've been intending to read this book for a long

    Hidden Depths

    I've been intending to read this book for a long time, having a memory of what was probably a 1980s BBC TV adaptation of it and having seen a play about the life of Zelda Fitzgerald on the Edinburgh Fringe in the '90s. Finally I got around to it...

    It's impossible for me to comment meaningfully on 'Tender is the Night' without giving away the plot. Obviously it's a very well-written, literary work but about half-way through I had issues with the respect in which the narrative feels very much like masculine self-indulgence, what with Rosemary's abiding obsession with Dick and the incest that we are informed to have been the root of Nicole's mental disturbance being glossed over so glibly.

    However, my feelings changed later on. I think the truly great human observation that Fitzgerald makes in this book is that when Dick & Rosemary's relationship is finally consummated, the mutual attraction is instantly killed off and the incident spells the beginning of the personal and professional demise of Dick.

    Furthermore, the facts that the novel ends with Nicole herself straying into an adulterous relationship and a final shift towards a focus on her feelings about her marriage to Dick and her own life and identity, redeemed the story from being one seemingly intended to bolster male egos.

    It's easy to lose sight of just how long ago 'Tender is the Night' was written because it tackles the question of the viability of monogamy in such a head-on, modern way. So I would recommend it, not only as a literary work of beauty that evokes the long-lost 'Jazz Age' but also and moreover as a book that examines the fundamental and perpetuating question of the nature of romantic love and the value we place upon it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 18, 2013

    Torn between liking and hating this book...

    The beginning of this book was very interesting. I found the characters likable. My opinion of the book changed around page two hundred. The book got very dark and sad, on top of that it was no longer told by the same charcter. By the end of the book...and by end i mean the last 20 pages i had come to love it once more. It is the type of book that you have to push yourself to finish. I would recommend it, but be warned; it is a very long book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 16, 2013

    An Involved Tale

    The rise of one leads to the fall of the other. A little depressing .

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 31, 2012

    i love to read f.Scott books, thanks for this collection

    i love to read f.Scott books, thanks for this collection

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  • Posted January 23, 2011

    A classic read

    On a French beach, a tale of romance, deceit and a good story told from different viewpoint begins. The reader is first introduced to the benevolent Rosemary, with her fair skin and young breath, she is a thing of beauty. Next to her, in less importance, is her mother Mrs. Speers. Then, the reader meets the obnoxious Mckiscos and their party. The story turns to the ever-so-graceful Diver party; Rosemary falls head-over-heels for the married Mr.Diver at first sight. A very promiscuous beginning to a classic tale. Mrs. Rosemary is a slightly naive, bright-eyed actress, fresh out of Hollywood. Being only 16, her moral standings are not at all stable.The Mckiscos are very insignificant, like flies on a patio, they only buzz in and out of the plot. The Divers, on the other hand, are the light compared to the darkness of the Mckiscos. Mr. Diver, also known as "Dick", is introduced as a dashingly handsome redhead that charms the excitement into any conversation. Mr. Diver's wife, Nicole, is described by Rosemary as a very strong beauty, which is quite the contrary to the reality of who she really is. Nicole, one would say, is the antagonist of the story; others may argue the antagonist is Rosemary. Rosemary, slightly intoxicated, and Dick, kiss after her 18th birthday celebration. After visiting a party that wasn't enjoyable, but necessary to attend, they kiss more passionately. Even though he's married, Dick is easily pushed into an affair. This novel was a bit difficult to read because of the numerous settings, countries, and names. Also, if the reader is not used to dialogue meant for the 1920's, it also becomes a factor in the book's difficulty to read. I didn't like this book, and it's probably because my taste in books is very selective. One of the things I could pick from the book that I thought was ridiculous, was the climax; it was only one sentence. No details, no build-up; nothing. The ending was also a disappointment, the reader was expecting a much bigger bang than the one that was given. Perhaps that's just how 1920's literature was meant to end. I did enjoy reading the story of Nicole though, it gave the book a dark unexpected twist. Also, the way in which Dick's character is developed is unexpected. The reader is able to experience Dick in a very different light through the eyes of Rosemary and then through the eyes of Nicole. Tender is the Night by P. Scott Fitzgerald is a classic book that the average person would enjoy.

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  • Posted July 25, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Tragic Irony

    A tome of the upsurge of modernity and the crisis of the White Knight who in rescuing becomes the tragic figure needing his own rescue. A point where hubris falls under the edifice of ideals...A touching human tragedy no doubt made of the stuff that fills the space in life and living.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 8, 2007

    Dissection of the rich and perfect

    I absolutely adore The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and I when I picked this book up my expectations were soaring and my imagination began to run wild. Interestingly, the book is divided into three sections the surface appearance, the dissection, and the unraveling. The first section of the book was, in my opinion, rather boring. It dealt with the struggle of a young woman, Rosemary, while she fell in love with the handsome, older, and already married Dick Diver. Rosemary made her intentions clear to Dick and proclaimed to him her love, but reluctantly Dick emphasized that he loved his wife, Nicole. In the first section of the book, Dick and Nicole were portrayed to be utterly happy and in love with each other. While Dick claimed to be in love with Rosemary, he told her that he was more in love with Nicole and could never be unfaithful. However, the second section of the book went into the history of out that Nicole and Dick met in a very unconventional way. She was a mental patient while he was a psychologist. At first this seems really strange, that a man of his appeal and intelligence would be mixed up with someone as mentally unstable and vulnerable as Nicole. It¿s also a shock because during the first section, Nicole was portrayed as a strong woman very independent from her husband. She appeared to be confident, which we find out is almost exactly the opposite of what her true characteristics are. Towards the end of the section you can see a transition towards the third. Dick finds himself reflecting, and slowly realizing how tied down he¿s made himself. By marrying and becoming entangled with Nicole, he has sacrificed his entire life. He no longer is suitable to practice psychology, and his own mental state begins to decline. The third section displays the complete ruining and destruction of Nicole and Dick¿s relationship. She knows of Dicks unfaithfulness to her in both his head and physically. Dick had fallen in love with young Rosemary. But from Dick¿s view mostly it was to attempt to fill the emptiness of his and Nicole¿s relationship. The bottom line is they had been happy, or as happy as it was possible for two people of their condition. After Rosemary everything had changed, and reality began to settle into their heads that they were destroying each other. Dick felt obligated to care for Nicole, and Nicole felt she needed to control and keep him through her fortune. In the end, Dick is alone, and Nicole has moved on. You can always count on Fitzgerald for an unsettling ending, but the pathway he paves to get there is impeccable. His extraordinary process of picking apart the outwardly perfect and beautiful people of the world is an amazing process that was thoroughly enjoyed and is strongly recommended.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 6, 2005

    Great story, well-crafted, a joy

    A fine novel on two levels: as a piece of literature and as a romance. While the style of jumping around in time requires some concentration, I find the book rather easy to take in through light reading. It is, on its surface, a romance and a touching one. Yet it rewards as completely the reader willing to linger and consider. The themes include human imperfection and frailty which we all possess regardless of wealth or status. Fitzgerald's ability to paint vivid pictures for the reader are on fine display here. The structure brings greater power to the story. Yes, it could be told more simply and chronologically but I believe it would lose much of its power if done so. If you're familiar with Fitzgerald's work, you'll find this deeper and more ambitious than his short stories. In fact, it is probably more ambitious than The Great Gatsby, though it doesn't quite reach the dizzying heights of that masterwork.No shame there, precious few novels do. If you've not read Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night is a nice introduction although I'd recommend Gatsby first. In short, whether you appreciate a ramontic tale, a well- crafted. thoughtful novel, or-- especially--both, Tender Is The Night is a worthwhile and enjoyable read.

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