February 13, 2003

"The Basil and Josephine Stories" by F. Scott Fitzgerald: In 1928, in an effort to make ends meet while he continued to struggle with the completion of "Tender Is the Night," F. Scott Fitzgerald penned these short stories involving the often delicate maturation process of youth and sold them to the Saturday Evening Post.

The stories of Basil Lee, a Minneapolis lad with dreams of a bright future, ran from April 1928 until April of 1929. While the Post published eight Basil stories, a ninth is included in this volume. The "lost" story is the earliest in the chronology of the character, featuring Basil at the age of 12 conspiring to throw a party where he and his friends could play "kissing games" with the neighborhood girls; a subject that the Saturday Evening Post considered too racy for the time.

The remaining eight tales follow Basil towards his appointment with adulthood as he ventures east to private school and eventually achieves his childhood dream of attending Yale, becoming somewhat of a football hero along the way. The journey is never an easy one, though. Young Basil bounces from one failed love to another, trailing pieces of broken heart in his wake. And no matter how hard he tries to be a good person or to do what is right, more often than not his best intentions blow up in his face. Then again, Basil isn't exactly a perfect angel. He does make some rather devious decisions, but such is the folly of youth. It's all part of growing up.

Josephine Perry is the heroine of the collection's remaining five stories, which were likewise published in the Saturday Evening Post, beginning in April of 1930 and ending in August of 1931. Chronicling her life from the age of 16 until a few days before her eighteenth birthday, Josephine is seen desperately reaching out for love only to find heartache and disappointment behind every square jaw and dreamy smile. Her hunger for acceptance, combined with a few misunderstandings, leads to her gaining a bad reputation, a truly disastrous fate in the 1920s.

Mr. Fitzgerald originally intended to bring Basil and Josephine together, uniting the two distinctly different, yet mutually beloved characters, into one grand story. It never happened. The legendary author was even reluctant to have the stories published as a collection in fear that readers would consider it his newest novel and scoff at its lack of literary weight, thereby overshadowing the eventual publication of "Tender Is the Night." And while it is true that the Basil and Josephine stories are of no colossal importance in and of themselves, since they serve more to entertain than enlighten, they remain a sterling example of Mr. Fitzgerald's astonishing talent. Each story is remarkably well crafted, boasting the effortlessly eloquent prose that is Mr. Fitzgerald's trademark. Even the most trivial of lines dazzles under his hand. He also displays a splendid knack for comedy, an aspect of his skill that is often overlooked.

And there's really more depth here than originally meets the eye. Both Basil and Josephine experience their share of poignant moments as they tiptoe through the minefields of maturity. "Emotional Bankruptcy," the final Josephine story, is particularly memorable for its hauntingly sad conclusion. In their own little way, the lessons learned of love by Basil and Josephine are as profound as the depressing truths foretold in "The Great Gatsby."

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"Save Me the Waltz" by Zelda Fitzgerald: In her lone novel, Zelda Fitzgerald valiantly attempts to establish herself as a writer of significance, thirsting for success outside of her husband's prodigious shadow. There can be no questioning her effort. She certainly gives it her all, baring her soul on most every page. Unfortunately, the result isn't nearly as inspired.

Alabama Beggs comes from a somewhat prominent Southern family. Her father, Judge Austin Beggs, is a respected member of the community. He's a stern man of strong convictions. He knows what's best for Alabama and her two older sisters, Dixie and Joan. He wants them to live a proper life, even going so far as to forbid Dixie and Joan from marrying the men they love in favor of more suitable husbands. Alabama isn't about to be controlled so easily. She falls in love and marries David Knight, a handsome young artist of nonexistent means. As David strives to make his name in the art world, the two set off on a decadent lifestyle full of alcohol and excess. Things only get worse when David finds fame. Even the birth of their daughter, Bonnie, does little to slow the wasteful extravagance.

David and Alabama begin to drift further and further apart, each succumbing to temptation. Alabama has an affair with a French aviator. David enjoys the company of an American actress. While their marriage survives, the wanton ways leave Alabama feeling empty inside. She craves a more substantial existence; a life of her own. Almost on a whim she begins studying ballet under the tutelage of a Russian Madame while the couple is living in Paris. Alabama is soon obsessed with becoming a ballerina, adopting a regiment of strict discipline and tireless dedication as she learns to master her body and, in turn, take control of her life.

One doesn't need bifocals to see that this story is very similar to the real exploits of the Fitzgeralds. A lot has been made that "Save Me the Waltz" was Zelda's take on the events depicted in "Tender is the Night," and while that may be true, there's also plenty taken from F. Scott's earlier opus, "The Beautiful and Damned." It's only in the second half of the book, when Alabama begins her quest to be a dancer, that any new ground is covered.

Zelda may have been able to borrow subject matter from her husband, but there was no sharing of his command for the craft. This is clearly the work of an amateur novelist and probably would have never found print if not for the author's last name. The writing is forced. This isn't so much writing as it is what people who can't write think constitutes writing. Needless adjectives and unnecessarily big words abound. Transitions from one scene to the next are muddled. Similes get stretched to ridiculous proportions. Throw a rock, hit an overdescriptive phrase. But other than that...

Actually, it's not all bad. Believe it or not, even with everything mentioned above, there really is some good stuff here. Once Alabama begins to dance, and the material veers away from that which is clearly influenced by F. Scott's work, Zelda discovers her stride. Not only do the mistakes she had been making appear with less regularity, she seems to settle into a style all her own.

It's almost like two different novels. If the first half of the book was told with the same confidence and ease as the portion centering around Alabama's dancing career, "Save Me the Waltz" could have been something special. It's undeniable that Zelda had talent as a writer. The ballet scenes should remove all doubt. And her dialogue sparkles throughout, even in the dreadfully overwrought first half. All Zelda needed was a little time, experience, and an honest editor willing to help shape her raw ability. One gets the feeling she was hurried along by greedy publishers looking to cash in on her husband's name.

This is a tough call. The first half warrants no more than one shot. Then comes salvation. Alabama's obsession with ballet and her relationships with her teacher and her fellow dancers were found to be endlessly fascinating by this humble reviewer, who must admit having a general fondness for Mrs. Fitzgerald. The ballet portion of the book is easily three-shot material. But, taken as a whole, is "Save Me the Waltz" as good as other three-shot books found on this site? Doubtful. So it is with a somewhat heavy heart and an eye towards what might have been that I bestow a modest, although affectionate, rating of two shots.

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