The thing I like about Zelda Fitzgerald is that she is totally jaded but, unlike her husband, she isn’t bitter. She’s like the decaffeinated version, and as a big advocate of decaff coffee that is in no way an insult. In Scott’s writing you can feel the niggling tension headache of withdrawal (from all kinds of substances I don’t doubt) the lack of appetite from dry nausea and an undercurrent of misanthropy that has yet to find a target worthy of trying to muster up some bile. Zelda, on the other hand, loves humanity; she loves the naivity of youth with all its melodrama and foibles and the jadedness of adulthood where there is no point in making a fuss about anything for what good would it do? You might as well make the best of the situation, and it’s not even such a bad situation when you remember you’re still young, insanely rich and a member of American high society. Where Scott saw the poiniency of the lifestyle Zelda laughed at how ridiculous it was – and I imagine that this irritated Scott but I love her for it.


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