Tender Is the Night

Fitzgerald's tale of rich Americans in Europe between the two world wars is also a tale of Dick Diver, a psychiatrist in the early years of the profession, perhaps too weak to refuse temptation, or too eager to be 'good' to protect himself and others from their obsessions. The writing itself can be exquisite, and the story loops back and forth between the central present and the events that make it what it is. There's a lot of Fitzgerald and Zelda in this, but it's not actually their story. Money, alcohol, the recent destruction, all weigh on these sometimes beautiful people.

Fitzgerald nekem kedves szerzőm, alighanem azért, mert nagyvilágian hajlékony prózája mögött elementáris feszültségek bújnak meg: a széthullás, a talajvesztés apokaliptikus víziója. Fényét pedig csak emelik sziporkázó, artisztikus mondatai, amelyek utánozhatatlanul tudnak megragadni egy képet vagy egy hangulatot. Az éj szelíd trónján főhőseinek nagyjából mindenük megvan, amiről legtöbbünk csak álmodozhat: pénz, hatalom, szépség, jó modor és vonzó személyiség (igaz, igaz, utóbbi háromból kedves olvasóimnak is bőven jutott), ám valami mégsem klappol. És ez a kínzó „de akkor mi nem klappol?”-kérdés az a fonal, ami végighúzódik az egész regényen. Az biztos, hogy Amerikában show more nem találták meg ezt a rejtélyes valamit, mert különben nem kóborolnának bolygó Hollandiként az egész regényidő alatt Európa válogatott tájain – ám hiába, mert sem a Riviéra forró homokján, sem a római romok között, sem a svájci síparadicsomokban nem lelik azt, amit keresnek. Úgyhogy csak rágja, emészti őket valami lassú féreg.

És mivel nekem Fitzgerald kedves szerzőm, ezért nem hallgathatom el a rossz érzéseimet sem*. Az éj szelíd trónján ugyanis, bár nagyvilágiság és feszültség terén nem lehet kivetnivalónk, a hajlékonyság tekintetében elmarad a szerző elbeszéléséinek zömétől**. Talán ezért is hatott most zavarónak az a könyvben, ami általában fel sem tűnik: hogy Fitzgerald valójában elég szűk látókörű alak***. Csak azt látja élesen, ami az ő behatárolt világának integráns része, ami azon túlmutat, valamiképp vázlatosnak tetszik. Itt vannak például a gyerekek. Nicole és Dick Diver két csemetéje számomra végig dekorációnak hatott, puszta eszköznek, amivel az idő múlását érzékelteti a szerző, és egyszer sem jutott eszembe, hogy „jé, tényleg, ezek a porontyok valóban élnek!”**** Miközben meg maga Nicole és Dick látványosan impulzív figurák, szinte látjuk, amint ki akarnak mászni a lapokról. Sőt, magam többször is azon kaptam Fitzgeraldot, hogy lekezelő, mi több: lanyhán megvető általánosításokra ragadtatja magát (illetve szereplőit) bizonyos csoportokkal szemben, pusztán mert azok nem részei az ő zárt, exkluzív, fájdalmas világának. De ettől függetlenül ez egy nagy könyv – páratlanul jeleníti meg a folyamatot, ahogy az ember szépen, finoman padlót fog.

* Ezt pont úgy mondtam, mintha a nem kedves szerzőimet nem bírálnám. Hehe.
** Itt most nyilván lehetne életrajzi párhuzamokkal előhozakodni, hogy miért is marad el, de most inkább nem.
*** Mint író, nyilván – hát mit tudom én, hogy F., mint ember, milyen látókörrel rendelkezett.
**** Egyszer például Dick/Fitzgerald megjegyzi, hogy a gyerekeivel semmi gond, mert „átlagos amerikai gyerekek”. Értem, mit akar az író közölni*****, ugyanakkor magam igen kevés szülővel találkoztam, aki az „átlagost” a saját gyermekével kapcsolatban pozitív tulajdonságként emlegette volna.
***** Alkalmasint azt, hogy a két gyerek nem olyan bolond, mint az anyjuk. show less

This semi-autobiographical novel centres around a very wealthy couple, Dick and Nicole Diver, making their base in the French Riviera as they live a life of leisure in the years after the first world war. The first section of the novel is in some ways muted, with a group of not particularly likeable characters and an 18 year old actress, Rosemary, falling for and trying to seduce Dick. The main drama, though, revolves around what is hidden - a mysterious scene with Nicole in the bathroom, which is gossiped and defended so energetically that it even provokes a real, though ultimately harmless, duel.

In later sections, though, which largely take place before the first section, the main story builds, and the pieces of the puzzle are put show more together. It turns out that Nicole's father had had sex with her when she was 12, and at 16 she is suffering from schizophrenia, and admitted to a psychiatric hospital in Switzerland, where she first meets Dick, an ambitious doctor, who writes successful textbooks. He initially is lukewarm in response to her attentions, but either because of a desire to save her, or because of her beauty, or huge wealth, or maybe truly because of love, eventually accepts her need for him and marries her. But the strain of propping up someone so mentally ill takes a toll on him (or is it just an excuse?) and his productivity wanes as his alcoholism takes over. He eventually does have an affair with Rosemary, 4 years after meeting her, but it isn't particularly satisfactory, and he feels increasingly in decline.

Eventually, the marriage does fall apart, almost by default, when Nicole has an affair with someone else. But while she feels increasingly strong, healthy, independent, Dick is increasingly broken and unable to function.

The novel, definitely towards the start, and on the surface, appears a little trivial and superficial, but its ideas and characters linger in the mind, and its great strength is the ambiguity of the main characters, especially of their motives and choices, and the fascinating change in fortunes between Dick and Nicole. The structure is very clever, starting at the fulcrum of the entire novel conceptually. And some of the little descriptions are exciting and so original, as are the ideas. You can't help concluding that there is a great disturbing, haunting reality to Dick and Nicole by the end. show less

As I progressed through Tender is the Night, I found myself repeatedly asking, “Why?” Why was this story told in such a style? Why the excessive verbosity? Why the overwhelming focus on dialogue, often interrupted by long, detailed descriptions of people and things that seemed entirely irrelevant to the plot? In particular, I found the depictions of random strangers, doors, fences, and balustrades especially distracting, given that none of these elements played any meaningful role in the story.

Throughout the novel, I struggled to connect with the characters, who seemed distant, unlikable, and difficult to relate to on any level. The writing itself did little to help. The lack of emotional engagement with the characters left me show more indifferent to the unfolding drama. I couldn’t care less about their struggles, desires, or even their inevitable downfalls. In fact, I often found myself disengaged and wishing for a tighter, more focused storyline.

This feeling of dissatisfaction isn't new to me; I had a similar experience with Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Both novels share a portrayal of wealthy, privileged characters whose lives revolve around excess, superficiality, and self-absorption. While this may resonate with some readers, I’ve come to realize that Fitzgerald’s world—one of shallow decadence and moral decay—simply doesn’t appeal to me. The characters' struggles felt hollow, their motives inscrutable, and their world one I had no desire to inhabit.

In conclusion, Tender is the Night confirmed that Fitzgerald’s depictions of spoiled, entitled, and morally bankrupt characters are not stories I wish to revisit. While I can appreciate the historical and literary importance of his work, I find that his portrayal of the elite and their turmoil simply doesn’t resonate with me. After both The Great Gatsby and Tender is the Night, I think it’s safe to say I am finished with Fitzgerald’s particular brand of storytelling. show less

Brilliant and heartbreaking, with the sort of lush romantic prose that makes a fella swoon about the 1930s. I know Fiztgerald was always disturbed by the lack of response to this book, and tried to move adult middle section to the start of the novel to compensate for what he esteemed as a failing of structure, not style. This section, a long telling of the early days of Dick Diver's relationship with his wife Nicole, adds a lot of backstory but very little else. The novel, until that point, had been a chronicle of Dick's slow deterioration and his estrangement from the woman he loves and serves as a sort of perpetual doctor, and the middle section of the novel just grinds to a halt. This section was just comparatively dull, and I'm not show more sure moving these 80ish pages to the start would remedy the novel's pacing issues.

Still, beautiful and sublime, though more bloated in style and context than Gatsby. If not for the unfortunate middle section, it would have been a 5 (a lot of modernist novels suffer from these long digressions---Faulner's The Hamlet, for instance, begins like a house fire and peters off into a dull discussion of mules after 200 pages). show less

This is a mess of a book. A beautiful mess, but still a mess.
We’re dropped into the middle of things as Dick and Nicole Driver are living in the Riviera, hosting and entertaining a motley group of friends through a mostly rich and idle summer.
Dick is a successful psychiatrist, and Nicole is a celebrated wealthy beauty who is devotedly in love with him. The lesser planets orbiting these two stars are just that: lesser beings who are shepherded by the Drivers. All seems frothy, light, exciting, and perhaps a bit too rich for a steady diet.
Enter Rosemary, a starlet from America, who turns Dick’s head and is the catalyst for the really messy parts of the story. We have a hint or two that something’s quite wrong, apart from show more Rosemary.
In part two we learn that Nicole has schizophrenia, and Dick is her doctor as well as her husband. The strains of this relationship bring about Dick’s eventual...collapse.
Fitzgerald is fascinated by the rich; he somehow thought they were different from us ordinary folks. But in this book he can’t conceal that their values and lives are shallow and based on the merest ephemera.
What makes the book a mess, I think, is that Fitzgerald seems to be trying to write two quite different narratives as one. It’s clear that Dick and Nicole start out as modeled on Gerald and Sarah Murphy, a wealthy couple who lived on the Riviera for years in much the same way as the Divers of Part One. But in Part Two, the couple morphs into imaginary portraits of Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. That transition isn’t well-handled (to be fair, I don’t think it could be done well), and the book falters badly because of it.
Fitzgerald’s portrayal of his own disastrous, sloppy slide into alcoholism is brilliantly done, however, and redeemed the book for me.
There’s some beautiful writing here, a lot of it. That made up for some of the weaknesses.
Just as an aside, until I read this I had no idea of the depth and breadth of of Fitzgerald’s fear, disdain, and hatred toward women. He loved them, but they made him miserable; that misery is very much present in this book.
Well worth reading, even if just for the writing and the perfect picture of what would become the Jet Setters in the late 1920’s. show less

An alcoholic’s tale. The main character is simultaneously self-absorbed and self-loathing. Like Dick Diver, Fitzgerald apparently loses interest in the two main female characters once they pass the age of eighteen. As for the Diver himself, Fitzgerald seems ultimately to be telling us “Don’t feel sorry for him, he’s not worth it.” Moments of brilliance, but overall a sad, unsettling work.