This Side of Paradise (Scribner Classics)

De (autor)
Notă GoodReads:
en Limba Engleză Hardback – June 1996
"This Side of Paradise, " F. Scott Fitzgerald's romantic and witty first novel, was written when the author was only twenty-three years old. This semiautobiographical story of the handsome, indulged, and idealistic Princeton student Amory Blaine received critical raves and catapulted Fitzgerald to instant fame. Now, readers can enjoy the newly edited, authorized version of this early classic of the Jazz Age, based on Fitzgerald's original manuscript. In this definitive text, "This Side of Paradise" captures the rhythms and romance of Fitzgerald's youth and offers a poignant portrait of the "Lost Generation."
Citește tot Restrânge
Toate formatele și edițiile
Toate formatele și edițiile Preț Express
Paperback (54) 4209 lei  3-5 săpt. +1021 lei  7-13 zile
  Arcturus Publishing – 15 Jul 2018 4209 lei  3-5 săpt. +1021 lei  7-13 zile
  Penguin Random House Group – 29 Apr 2010 5484 lei  3-5 săpt. +395 lei  13-21 zile
  Oxford University Press – 28 May 2020 5559 lei  10-16 zile +946 lei  7-13 zile
  Alma Books COMMIS – 27 Sep 2012 5564 lei  26-32 zile +535 lei  7-13 zile
  e-artnow – 03 Jul 2022 5667 lei  3-5 săpt. +408 lei  13-21 zile
  Penguin Books – 25 Jan 2001 5742 lei  10-17 zile +1359 lei  7-13 zile
  CREATESPACE – 5815 lei  3-5 săpt. +420 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 6364 lei  3-5 săpt. +463 lei  13-21 zile
  6485 lei  3-5 săpt. +471 lei  13-21 zile – 20 May 2016 6693 lei  3-5 săpt. +697 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 7190 lei  3-5 săpt. +527 lei  13-21 zile
  SMK Books – 21 Oct 2010 7233 lei  3-5 săpt. +757 lei  13-21 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 7279 lei  3-5 săpt. +534 lei  13-21 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 7516 lei  3-5 săpt. +553 lei  13-21 zile
  Greenbook Publications, LLC – August 2010 7566 lei  3-5 săpt. +557 lei  13-21 zile – 15 Jul 2018 7800 lei  3-5 săpt. +820 lei  13-21 zile
  Vintage Books USA – September 2009 7802 lei  3-5 săpt. +574 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 8399 lei  3-5 săpt. +620 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 8948 lei  3-5 săpt. +664 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 8948 lei  3-5 săpt. +664 lei  13-21 zile
  Bibliotech Press – 02 May 2019 9020 lei  3-5 săpt. +955 lei  13-21 zile
  Bibliotech Press – 07 Feb 2012 9029 lei  3-5 săpt. +956 lei  13-21 zile
  Simon & Brown – 30 Oct 2018 9142 lei  3-5 săpt. +969 lei  13-21 zile
  9203 lei  3-5 săpt. +685 lei  13-21 zile
  9203 lei  3-5 săpt. +685 lei  13-21 zile
  Bottom of the Hill Publishing – September 2014 9515 lei  3-5 săpt. +896 lei  13-21 zile
  IBOO PR HOUSE – 20 Jun 2020 9551 lei  3-5 săpt. +900 lei  13-21 zile
  9566 lei  3-5 săpt. +711 lei  13-21 zile
  9566 lei  3-5 săpt. +711 lei  13-21 zile
  9566 lei  3-5 săpt. +711 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 9632 lei  3-5 săpt. +717 lei  13-21 zile
  9973 lei  3-5 săpt. +743 lei  13-21 zile
  Scribner – July 1998 10040 lei  3-5 săpt. +750 lei  12-19 zile
  Penguin Books – March 1996 10260 lei  3-5 săpt. +766 lei  13-21 zile
  Prometheus Books – May 2004 10673 lei  3-5 săpt. +799 lei  13-21 zile
  Denton & White – 10919 lei  3-5 săpt. +817 lei  13-21 zile
  11043 lei  3-5 săpt. +827 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 11262 lei  3-5 săpt. +844 lei  13-21 zile
  11280 lei  3-5 săpt. +845 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 11288 lei  3-5 săpt. +845 lei  13-21 zile
  11669 lei  3-5 săpt. +1249 lei  13-21 zile
  1ST WORLD LIB INC – October 2008 11758 lei  3-5 săpt. +1160 lei  13-21 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 12493 lei  3-5 săpt. +940 lei  13-21 zile
  Rupa Publications – 05 Jan 2013 12507 lei  3-5 săpt. +1237 lei  13-21 zile
  Urban Romantics – 07 Jan 2017 13863 lei  3-5 săpt. +1047 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 14260 lei  3-5 săpt. +1077 lei  13-21 zile
  Simon & Brown – 15 Nov 2018 14640 lei  3-5 săpt. +1108 lei  13-21 zile
  CREATESPACE – 15338 lei  3-5 săpt. +1161 lei  13-21 zile
  Outlook Verlag – 25 Sep 2019 28261 lei  3-5 săpt. +2167 lei  13-21 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 26 Sep 2018 7574 lei  17-23 zile
  Martino Fine Books – 05 Apr 2019 9181 lei  38-44 zile
  Echo Library – 18 Jul 2017 10425 lei  38-44 zile
  NuVision Publications – 18 Jul 2007 11205 lei  38-44 zile
  Cambridge University Press – 19 Apr 2012 16208 lei  48-60 zile +6604 lei  13-21 zile
Hardback (15) 4668 lei  20-31 zile
  Penguin Books – 04 Nov 2010 8556 lei  2 zile
  Collectors Library – September 2012 4668 lei  20-31 zile
  Arcturus Publishing – 26 Oct 2020 6903 lei  26-32 zile +724 lei  7-13 zile
  Everyman's Library – 27 Jun 1996 7597 lei  10-17 zile
  Scribner – 03 Sep 2020 11527 lei  3-5 săpt. +893 lei  7-13 zile
  Simon & Brown – 30 Oct 2018 13850 lei  3-5 săpt. +1493 lei  13-21 zile
  Bibliotech Press – 02 May 2019 14529 lei  3-5 săpt. +1567 lei  13-21 zile
  SMK Books – 03 Apr 2018 17725 lei  3-5 săpt. +1923 lei  13-21 zile
  IBOO PR HOUSE – 19 Jun 2020 18350 lei  3-5 săpt. +1765 lei  13-21 zile
  18431 lei  3-5 săpt. +2001 lei  13-21 zile
  Simon & Brown – 15 Nov 2018 21750 lei  3-5 săpt. +1660 lei  13-21 zile
  1st World Publishing – October 2008 21856 lei  3-5 săpt. +2193 lei  13-21 zile
  Outlook Verlag – 25 Sep 2019 43746 lei  3-5 săpt. +3247 lei  13-21 zile
  NuVision Publications – February 2009 22229 lei  38-44 zile
  Cambridge University Press – 26 Jan 1996 53844 lei  48-60 zile

Din seria Scribner Classics

Preț: 18493 lei

Puncte Express: 277

Preț estimativ în valută:
3610 3669$ 3045£

Carte indisponibilă temporar

Doresc să fiu notificat când acest titlu va fi disponibil:

Preluare comenzi: 021 569.72.76


ISBN-13: 9780684830469
ISBN-10: 0684830469
Pagini: 256
Dimensiuni: 162 x 241 x 24 mm
Greutate: 0.54 kg
Ediția: Special
Editura: Scribner
Seria Scribner Classics

Notă biografică

Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (September 24, 1896 - December 21, 1940), known professionally as F. Scott Fitzgerald, was an American novelist and short story writer, whose works illustrate the Jazz Age. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century. He finished four novels: This Side of Paradise, The Beautiful and Damned, The Great Gatsby, and Tender Is the Night. A fifth, unfinished novel, The Love of the Last Tycoon, was published posthumously. Fitzgerald also wrote numerous short stories, many of which treat themes of youth and promise, and age and despair. Paris in the 1920s proved the most influential decade of Fitzgerald's development. Fitzgerald made several excursions to Europe, and became friends with many members of the American expatriate community in Paris, notably Ernest Hemingway. Fitzgerald's friendship with Hemingway was quite effusive, as many of Fitzgerald's relationships would prove to be. Like most professional authors at the time, Fitzgerald supplemented his income by writing short stories for such magazines as The Saturday Evening Post, Collier's Weekly, and Esquire, and sold his stories and novels to Hollywood studios. Fitzgerald claimed that he would first write his stories in an 'authentic' manner, then rewrite them to put in the "twists that made them into salable magazine stories." Although Fitzgerald's passion lay in writing novels, only his first novel sold well enough to support the opulent lifestyle that he and his wife, Zelda, adopted as New York celebrities. The Great Gatsby, did not become popular until after Fitzgerald's death.


'Arriving at an accurate and authoritative edition of Fitzgerald could hardly be more worthwhile, and West has done it superlatively. … [he] is doing a tremendously valuable service to Fitzgerald in particular and American literature in general, and we are all in his debt.' Scott Donaldson, The F. Scott Fitzgerald Review


Book One
The Romantic Egotist
Amory, Son of Beatrice

Amory Blaine inherited from his mother every trait, except the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for Byron and a habit for drowsing over the Encyclopædia Britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful Chicago brokers, and in the first flush of feeling that the world was his, went to Bar Harbor and met Beatrice O’Hara. In consequence, Stephen Blaine handed down to posterity his height of just under six feet and his tendency to waver at crucial moments, these two abstractions appearing in his son Amory. For many years he hovered in the background of his family’s life, an unassertive figure with a face half-obliterated by lifeless, silky hair continually occupied in “taking care” of his wife, continually harassed by the idea that he didn’t and couldn’t understand her.

But Beatrice Blaine! There was a woman! Early pictures taken on her father’s estate at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, or in Rome at the Sacred Heart Convent–an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally wealthy–showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had–her youth passed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of the Older Roman Families; known by name as a fabulously wealthy American girl to Cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whiskey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broadened in two senses during a winter in Vienna. All in all Beatrice O’Hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again; a tutelage measured by the number of things and people one could be contemptuous of and charming about; a culture rich in all arts and traditions, barren of all ideas, in the last of those days when the great gardener clipped the inferior roses to produce one perfect bud.

In her less important moments she returned to America, met Stephen Blaine and married him–this almost entirely because she was a little bit weary, a little bit sad. Her only child was carried through a tiresome season and brought into the world on a spring day in ninety-six.

When Amory was five he was already a delightful companion for her. He was an auburn-haired boy, with great, handsome eyes which he would grow up to in time, a facile imaginative mind and a taste for fancy dress. From his fourth to his tenth year he did the country with his mother in her father’s private car, from Coronado, where his mother became so bored that she had a nervous breakdown in a fashionable hotel, down to Mexico City, where she took a mild, almost epidemic consumption. This trouble pleased her, and later she made use of it as an intrinsic part of her atmosphere–especially after several astounding bracers.

So, while more or less fortunate little rich boys were defying governesses on the beach at Newport, or being spanked or tutored or read to from “Do and Dare,” or “Frank on the Mississippi,” Amory was biting acquiescent bell-boys in the Waldorf, outgrowing a natural repugnance to chamber music and symphonies, and deriving a highly specialized education from his mother.

“Yes, Beatrice.” (Such a quaint name for his mother; she encouraged it.)
“Dear, don’t think of getting out of bed yet. I’ve always suspected that early rising in early life makes one nervous. Clothilde is having your breakfast brought up.”
“All right.”
“I am feeling very old today, Amory,” she would sigh, her face a rare cameo of pathos, her voice exquisitely modulated, her hands as facile as Bernhardt’s. “My nerves are on edge–on edge. We must leave this terrifying place tomorrow and go searching for sunshine.”

Amory’s penetrating green eyes would look out through tangled hair at his mother. Even at this age he had no illusions about her.

“Oh, yes.”
“I want you to take a red-hot bath–as hot as you can bear it, and just relax your nerves. You can read in the tub if you wish.”

She fed him sections of the “Fêtes Galantes” before he was ten; at eleven he could talk glibly, if rather reminiscently, of Brahms and Mozart and Beethoven. One afternoon, when left alone in the hotel at Hot Springs, he sampled his mother’s apricot cordial, and as the taste pleased him, he became quite tipsy. This was fun for a while, but he essayed a cigarette in his exaltation, and succumbed to a vulgar, plebeian reaction. Though this incident horrified Beatrice, it also secretly amused her and became part of what in a later generation would have been termed her “line.”

“This son of mine,” he heard her tell a room full of awe-struck, admiring women one day, “is entirely sophisticated and quite charming–but delicate–we’re all delicate; here, you know.” Her hand was radiantly outlined against her beautiful bosom; then sinking her voice to a whisper, she told them of the apricot cordial. They rejoiced, for she was a brave raconteuse, but many were the keys turned in sideboard locks that night against the possible defection of little Bobby or Barbara. . . .

These domestic pilgrimages were invariably in state; two maids, the private car, or Mr. Blaine when available, and very often a physician. When Amory had the whooping-cough four disgusted specialists glared at each other hunched around his bed; when he took scarlet fever the number of attendants, including physicians and nurses, totalled fourteen. However, blood being thicker than broth, he was pulled through.

The Blaines were attached to no city. They were the Blaines of Lake Geneva; they had quite enough relatives to serve in place of friends, and an enviable standing from Pasadena to Cape Cod. But Beatrice grew more and more prone to like only new acquaintances, as there were certain stories, such as the history of her constitution and its many amendments, memories of her years abroad, that it was necessary for her to repeat at regular intervals. Like Freudian dreams, they must be thrown off, else they would sweep in and lay siege to her nerves. But Beatrice was critical about American women, especially the floating population of ex-Westerners.

“They have accents, my dear,” she told Amory, “not Southern accents or Boston accents, not an accent attached to any locality, just an accent”–she became dreamy. “They pick up old, moth-eaten London accents that are down on their luck and have to be used by some one. They talk as an English butler might after several years in a Chicago grand opera company.” She became almost incoherent– “Suppose–time in every Western woman’s life–she feels her husband is prosperous enough for her to have–accent–they try to impress me, my dear–”
Though she thought of her body as a mass of frailties, she considered her soul quite as ill, and therefore important in her life. She had once been a Catholic, but discovering that priests were infinitely more attentive when she was in process of losing or regaining faith in Mother Church, she maintained an enchantingly wavering attitude. Often she deplored the bourgeois quality of the American Catholic clergy, and was quite sure that had she lived in the shadow of the great Continental cathedrals her soul would still be a thin flame on the mighty altar of Rome. Still, next to doctors, priests were her favorite sport.

“Ah, Bishop Wiston,” she would declare, “I do not want to talk of myself. I can imagine the stream of hysterical women fluttering at your doors, beseeching you to be simpatico”–then after an interlude filled by the clergyman–

“but my mood–is–oddly dissimilar.”

Only to bishops and above did she divulge her clerical romance. When she had first returned to her country there had been a pagan, Swinburnian young man in Asheville, for whose passionate kisses and unsentimental conversations she had taken a decided penchant–they had discussed the matter pro and con with an intellectual romancing quite devoid of soppiness. Eventually she had decided to marry for background, and the young pagan from Asheville had gone through a spiritual crisis, joined the Catholic Church, and was now–Monsignor Darcy.

“Indeed, Mrs. Blaine, he is still delightful company–quite the cardinal’s right-hand man.”
“Amory will go to him one day, I know,” breathed the beautiful lady, “and Monsignor Darcy will understand him as he understood me.”

Amory became thirteen, rather tall and slender, and more than ever on to his Celtic mother. He had tutored occasionally–the idea being that he was to “keep up,” at each place “taking up the work where he left off,” yet as no tutor ever found the place he left off, his mind was still in very good shape. What a few more years of this life would have made of him is problematical. However, four hours out from land, Italy bound, with Beatrice, his appendix burst, probably from too many meals in bed, and after a series of frantic telegrams to Europe and America, to the amazement of the passengers the great ship slowly wheeled around and returned to New York to deposit Amory at the pier. You will admit that if it was not life it was magnificent.

After the operation Beatrice had a nervous breakdown that bore a suspicious resemblance to delirium tremens, and Amory was left in Minneapolis, destined to spend the ensuing two years with his aunt and uncle. There the crude, vulgar air of Western civilization first catches him–in his underwear, so to speak.


This Side of Paradise Acknowledgments
Introduction by Patrick O'Donnell
Suggestions for Further Reading
A Note on the Text
This Side of Paradise
Book One: The Romantic Egotist
I. Amory, Son of Beatrice
II. Spires and Gargoyles
III. The Egotist Considers
IV. Narcissus Off Duty

[Interlude: May, 1917 - February, 1919.]

Book Two: The Education of a Personage
I. The Débutante
II. Experiments in Convalescence
III. Young Irony
IV. The Supercilious Sacrifice
V. The Egotist Becomes a Personage

Explanatory Notes