Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Won’t we be quite the pair?—you with your bad heart, me with my bad head. Together, though, we might have something worthwhile.”- Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler 

When beautiful, reckless Southern belle Zelda Sayre meets F. Scott Fitzgerald at a country club dance in 1918, she is seventeen years old and he is a young army lieutenant stationed in Alabama. Before long, the "ungettable" Zelda has fallen for him despite his unsuitability: Scott isn't wealthy or prominent or even a Southerner, and keeps insisting, absurdly, that his writing will bring him both fortune and fame. Her father is deeply unimpressed. But after Scott sells his first novel, This Side of Paradise, to Scribner's, Zelda optimistically boards a train north, to marry him in the vestry of St. Patrick's Cathedral and take the rest as it comes.

What comes, here at the dawn of the Jazz Age, is unimagined attention and success and celebrity that will make Scott and Zelda legends in their own time. Everyone wants to meet the dashing young author of the scandalous novel—and his witty, perhaps even more scandalous wife. Zelda bobs her hair, adopts daring new fashions, and revels in this wild new world. Each place they go becomes a playground: New York City, Long Island, Hollywood, Paris, and the French Riviera—where they join the endless party of the glamorous, sometimes doomed Lost Generation that includes Ernest Hemingway, Sara and Gerald Murphy, and Gertrude Stein.

Everything seems new and possible. Troubles, at first, seem to fade like morning mist. But not even Jay Gatsby's parties go on forever. Who is Zelda, other than the wife of a famous—sometimes infamous—husband? How can she forge her own identity while fighting her demons and Scott's, too? With brilliant insight and imagination, Therese Anne Fowler brings us Zelda's irresistible story as she herself might have told it.

I'm a little obsessed with the 1920s, and especially the Fitzgeralds. Also, I wanted to watch the show, so I figured I should give this novel a shot. Going in to this novel, I had high hopes, excited for the chance to spend a few light hours reading about this couple whose toxic relationship maybe have very well been the death of them. 

My first problem with the text was apparent straight off. Zelda's narrative. I think third person or omniscient would have been a better choice for this novel, relieving Fowler of the pressure to have to mimic the voice and thought process of someone as complex as Zelda. And the first half was so dreadfully boring. I found my mind wandering often whenever I tried to read it, and the anachronisms of the dialogue made me feel like I had an itch on my back right where I couldn't get at it. Both Zelda and Scott didn't feel like themselves for some reason. Both seemed dumbed down, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why until I went on Goodreads to read the reviews. The word "whitewashed" appeared in quite a few, and I agree that it fits this book perfectly. Zelda's portrayal in this reminds me of Tarnish's portrayal of Anne Boleyn. Both books changed their interesting, complex, historical women into sanitized versions of themselves, declawing them so they could seem like victims of the patriarchy instead of who they really were. Zelda didn't need that any more than Anne did. I mean, this is the same chick who accused Scott and Hemingway (Hemingway!) of having a homosexual affair together.

Another problem I had with this was that Scott got blamed for Zelda's mental state, or lack thereof. Her insanity was not Scott's fault anymore than his drinking was hers. From my reading and own research into Scott and Zelda's relationship, I came to the conclusion that they had a twisted, toxic relationship. Both were at fault, Zelda was not the sole victim and Scott was not the sole abuser. In my opinion, they were perfect for each other- both selfish, immature, and narcissistic children who may have been creative geniuses (or at least Scott, I've never read anything by Zelda, but it's hard to argue against his genius, even if you don't like his personality), but were absolutely horrible to each other.

I couldn't finish this book, I'm sorry. I got so annoyed with Fowler's portrayal of their relationship and felt pity for Zelda herself to be forced into this victim box. What I want is for a book to have an honest portrayal of fascinating women in history- women like Zelda or Anne- without the author feeling the need to look at them through a feminist lense, where everything that happens to them, and anything even remotely bad they do, is all because of the men in their life. All that does it take away their personality. And that makes me sad. 

3.5 out of 10(DNF)

Wow, my first DNF of the year! I'd like to thank the Academy, and also Therese Anne Fowler, and also Violet wells, whose review of this book I highly encourage you to check out.