Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale
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Product Description

A modern classic, this edition has been restored by Fitzgerald scholar James L.W. West III and features a personal foreword by Fitzgerald’s great-granddaughter Blake Hazard and a new introduction by bestselling Amor Towles.

Set in the south of France in the late 1920s, Tender Is the Night is the tragic tale of a young actress, Rosemary Hoyt, and her complicated relationship with the alluring American couple Dick and Nicole Diver. A brilliant psychiatrist at the time of his marriage, Dick is both husband and doctor to Nicole, whose wealth pushed him into a glamorous lifestyle, and whose growing strength highlights Dick’s decline.

Lyrical, expansive, and hauntingly evocative, Tender Is the Night was one of the most talked-about books of the year when it was originally published in 1934, and is even more beloved by readers today.

Amazon.com Review

In the wake of World War I, a community of expatriate American writers established itself in the salons and cafes of 1920s Paris. They congregated at Gertrude Stein''s select soirees, drank too much, married none too wisely, and wrote volumes--about the war, about the Jazz Age, and often about each other. F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda, were part of this gang of literary Young Turks, and it was while living in France that Fitzgerald began writing Tender Is the Night. Begun in 1925, the novel was not actually published until 1934. By then, Fitzgerald was back in the States and his marriage was on the rocks, destroyed by Zelda''s mental illness and alcoholism. Despite the modernist mandate to keep authors and their creations strictly segregated, it''s difficult not to look for parallels between Fitzgerald''s private life and the lives of his characters, psychiatrist Dick Diver and his former patient turned wife, Nicole. Certainly the hospital in Switzerland where Zelda was committed in 1929 provided the inspiration for the clinic where Diver meets, treats, and then marries the wealthy Nicole Warren. And Fitzgerald drew both the European locale and many of the characters from places and people he knew from abroad.

In the novel, Dick is eventually ruined--professionally, emotionally, and spiritually--by his union with Nicole. Fitzgerald''s fate was not quite so novelistically neat: after Zelda was diagnosed as a schizophrenic and committed, Fitzgerald went to work as a Hollywood screenwriter in 1937 to pay her hospital bills. He died three years later--not melodramatically, like poor Jay Gatsby in his swimming pool, but prosaically, while eating a chocolate bar and reading a newspaper. Of all his novels, Tender Is the Night is arguably the one closest to his heart. As he himself wrote, "Gatsby was a tour de force, but this is a confession of faith."

Review

"It''s amazing how excellent much of it is."
Ernest Hemingway

"I will say now,  Tender Is the Night is in the early stages of being my favorite book, even more than  This Side of Paradise."
John O''Hara

About the Author

F. Scott Fitzgerald was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, in 1896. He attended Princeton University, joined the United States Army during World War I, and published his first novel, This Side of Paradise, in 1920. That same year he married Zelda Sayre and for the next decade the couple lived in New York, Paris, and on the Riviera. Fitzgerald’s masterpieces include The Beautiful and Damned, The Great Gatsby, and Tender Is the Night. He died at the age of forty-four while working on The Last Tycoon. Fitzgerald’s fiction has secured his reputation as one of the most important American writers of the twentieth century.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Tender is the Night

I




On the pleasant shore of the French Riviera, about half way between Marseilles and the Italian border, stands a large, proud, rose-colored hotel. Deferential palms cool its flushed façade, and before it stretches a short dazzling beach. Lately it has become a summer resort of notable and fashionable people; a decade ago it was almost deserted after its English clientele went north in April. Now, many bungalows cluster near it, but when this story begins only the cupolas of a dozen old villas rotted like water lilies among the massed pines between Gausse’s Hôtel des Étrangers and Cannes, five miles away.

The hotel and its bright tan prayer rug of a beach were one. In the early morning the distant image of Cannes, the pink and cream of old fortifications, the purple Alp that bounded Italy, were cast across the water and lay quavering in the ripples and rings sent up by sea-plants through the clear shallows. Before eight a man came down to the beach in a blue bathrobe and with much preliminary application to his person of the chilly water, and much grunting and loud breathing, floundered a minute in the sea. When he had gone, beach and bay were quiet for an hour. Merchantmen crawled westward on the horizon; bus boys shouted in the hotel court; the dew dried upon the pines. In another hour the horns of motors began to blow down from the winding road along the low range of the Maures, which separates the littoral from true Provençal France.

A mile from the sea, where pines give way to dusty poplars, is an isolated railroad stop, whence one June morning in 1925 a victoria brought a woman and her daughter down to Gausse’s Hotel. The mother’s face was of a fading prettiness that would soon be patted with broken veins; her expression was both tranquil and aware in a pleasant way. However, one’s eyes moved on quickly to her daughter, who had magic in her pink palms and her cheeks lit to a lovely flame, like the thrilling flush of children after their cold baths in the evening. Her fine high forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet, and shining, the color of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood—she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her.

As sea and sky appeared below them in a thin, hot line the mother said:

“Something tells me we’re not going to like this place.”

“I want to go home anyhow,” the girl answered.

They both spoke cheerfully but were obviously without direction and bored by the fact—moreover, just any direction would not do. They wanted high excitement, not from the necessity of stimulating jaded nerves but with the avidity of prize-winning schoolchildren who deserved their vacations.

“We’ll stay three days and then go home. I’ll wire right away for steamer tickets.”

At the hotel the girl made the reservation in idiomatic but rather flat French, like something remembered. When they were installed on the ground floor she walked into the glare of the French windows and out a few steps onto the stone verandah that ran the length of the hotel. When she walked she carried herself like a ballet-dancer, not slumped down on her hips but held up in the small of her back. Out there the hot light clipped close her shadow and she retreated—it was too bright to see. Fifty yards away the Mediterranean yielded up its pigments, moment by moment, to the brutal sunshine; below the balustrade a faded Buick cooked on the hotel drive.

Indeed, of all the region only the beach stirred with activity. Three British nannies sat knitting the slow pattern of Victorian England, the pattern of the forties, the sixties, and the eighties, into sweaters and socks, to the tune of gossip as formalized as incantation; closer to the sea a dozen persons kept house under striped umbrellas, while their dozen children pursued unintimidated fish through the shallows or lay naked and glistening with cocoanut oil out in the sun.

As Rosemary came onto the beach a boy of twelve ran past her and dashed into the sea with exultant cries. Feeling the impactive scrutiny of strange faces, she took off her bathrobe and followed. She floated face down for a few yards and finding it shallow staggered to her feet and plodded forward, dragging slim legs like weights against the resistance of the water. When it was about breast high, she glanced back toward shore: a bald man in a monocle and a pair of tights, his tufted chest thrown out, his brash navel sucked in, was regarding her attentively. As Rosemary returned the gaze the man dislodged the monocle, which went into hiding amid the facetious whiskers of his chest, and poured himself a glass of something from a bottle in his hand.

Rosemary laid her face on the water and swam a choppy little four-beat crawl out to the raft. The water reached up for her, pulled her down tenderly out of the heat, seeped in her hair and ran into the corners of her body. She turned round and round in it, embracing it, wallowing in it. Reaching the raft she was out of breath, but a tanned woman with very white teeth looked down at her, and Rosemary, suddenly conscious of the raw whiteness of her own body, turned on her back and drifted toward shore. The hairy man holding the bottle spoke to her as she came out.

“I say—they have sharks out behind the raft.” He was of indeterminate nationality, but spoke English with a slow Oxford drawl. “Yesterday they devoured two British sailors from the flotte at Golfe-Juan.”

“Heavens!” exclaimed Rosemary.

“They come in for the refuse from the flotte.”

Glazing his eyes to indicate that he had only spoken in order to warn her, he minced off two steps and poured himself another drink.

Not unpleasantly self-conscious, since there had been a slight sway of attention toward her during this conversation, Rosemary looked for a place to sit. Obviously each family possessed the strip of sand immediately in front of its umbrella; besides there was much visiting and talking back and forth—the atmosphere of a community upon which it would be presumptuous to intrude. Farther up, where the beach was strewn with pebbles and dead sea-weed, sat a group with flesh as white as her own. They lay under small hand-parasols instead of beach umbrellas and were obviously less indigenous to the place. Between the dark people and the light, Rosemary found room and spread out her peignoir on the sand.

Lying so, she first heard their voices and felt their feet skirt her body and their shapes pass between the sun and herself. The breath of an inquisitive dog blew warm and nervous on her neck; she could feel her skin broiling a little in the heat and hear the small exhausted wa-waa of the expiring waves. Presently her ear distinguished individual voices and she became aware that some one referred to scornfully as “that North guy” had kidnapped a waiter from a café in Cannes last night in order to saw him in two. The sponsor of the story was a white-haired woman in full evening dress, obviously a relic of the previous evening, for a tiara still clung to her head and a discouraged orchid expired from her shoulder. Rosemary, forming a vague antipathy to her and her companions, turned away.

Nearest her, on the other side, a young woman lay under a roof of umbrellas making out a list of things from a book open on the sand. Her bathing suit was pulled off her shoulders and her back, a ruddy, orange brown, set off by a string of creamy pearls, shone in the sun. Her face was hard and lovely and pitiful. Her eyes met Rosemary’s but did not see her. Beyond her was a fine man in a jockey cap and red-striped tights; then the woman Rosemary had seen on the raft, and who looked back at her, seeing her; then a man with a long face and a golden, leonine head, with blue tights and no hat, talking very seriously to an unmistakably Latin young man in black tights, both of them picking at little pieces of sea-weed in the sand. She thought they were mostly Americans, but something made them unlike the Americans she had known of late.

After a while she realized that the man in the jockey cap was giving a quiet little performance for this group; he moved gravely about with a rake, ostensibly removing gravel and meanwhile developing some esoteric burlesque held in suspension by his grave face. Its faintest ramification had become hilarious, until whatever he said released a burst of laughter. Even those who, like herself, were too far away to hear, sent out antennæ of attention until the only person on the beach not caught up in it was the young woman with the string of pearls. Perhaps from modesty of possession she responded to each salvo of amusement by bending closer over her list.

The man of the monocle and bottle spoke suddenly out of the sky above Rosemary.

“You are a ripping swimmer.”

She demurred.

“Jolly good. My name is Campion. Here is a lady who says she saw you in Sorrento last week and knows who you are and would so like to meet you.”

Glancing around with concealed annoyance Rosemary saw the untanned people were waiting. Reluctantly she got up and went over to them.

“Mrs. Abrams—Mrs. McKisco—Mr. McKisco—Mr. Dumphry—”

“We know who you are,” spoke up the woman in evening dress. “You’re Rosemary Hoyt and I recognized you in Sorrento and asked the hotel clerk and we all think you’re perfectly marvellous and we want to know why you’re not back in America making another marvellous moving picture.”

They made a superfluous gesture of moving over for her. The woman who had recognized her was not a Jewess, despite her name. She was one of those elderly “good sports” preserved by an imperviousness to experience and a good digestion into another generation.

“We wanted to warn you about getting burned the first day,” she continued cheerily, “because your skin is important, but there seems to be so darn much formality on this beach that we didn’t know whether you’d mind.”

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4.3 out of 54.3 out of 5
604 global ratings

Top reviews from the United States

Ted d'Afflisio
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Tender is the Night
Reviewed in the United States on November 2, 2019
From the title through to the conclusion this book is a masterpiece, which I’ve read several times, each time drawing something different from it. It is a well of rich, lyrical writing, a romance, a tragedy. It is life, it’s lessons hard learned, that Fitzgerald gives to... See more
From the title through to the conclusion this book is a masterpiece, which I’ve read several times, each time drawing something different from it. It is a well of rich, lyrical writing, a romance, a tragedy. It is life, it’s lessons hard learned, that Fitzgerald gives to us from his own tortures. If you’ve ever loved, given yourself completely to a person and seen that pass away from you as you always knew in some part of you that it would, you should read this book. That it’s setting is the Riviera gives wing to Fitzgerald’s gift for description, the tone, the texture. You can feel the warmth of the water, the sand, the sky the winds that sweep across the pines and yet always this stands as a counterpoint to the human beings, their loves, their tragedies.
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Nathan Stevenson
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Sweeping, lyrical, tragic arc - so colorful, sweet and bitter
Reviewed in the United States on January 26, 2018
Turning over the most memorable characters, Nicole and Dick Diver form a glamorous colourful but tainted love, set between Switzerland and the Riviera. Elegant prose, lined with glittering dialog and streams of consciousness that observe the most occluded emotions and... See more
Turning over the most memorable characters, Nicole and Dick Diver form a glamorous colourful but tainted love, set between Switzerland and the Riviera.
Elegant prose, lined with glittering dialog and streams of consciousness that observe the most occluded emotions and subtleties of character, Fitzgerald defines a style that is at once modern and of his time. Recalling the glory days of a fading empire, Dick Diver’s ascent, peak and melancholic unravelling lights up the world and then fades sadly into obscurity with no real trigger or turning point. Perhaps that undefined, loss of hope and confidence that real life observed and unchallenged leaves ever waiting for resolution. A masterpiece of introspection, carving out the shadowed corners and shining sunny moments of life’s incalculable arc.
20 people found this helpful
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vee rae
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Not my cup of Chowder!
Reviewed in the United States on August 16, 2017
I just plowed thru this one. I decided I am simply not literate enough to appreciate FSF''s writing. I had to skim certain sections, but was determined to finish it. On a few occasions I was actually interested and kept going hoping I would love it. I was often confused... See more
I just plowed thru this one. I decided I am simply not literate enough to appreciate FSF''s writing. I had to skim certain sections, but was determined to finish it. On a few occasions I was actually interested and kept going hoping I would love it. I was often confused as to what was going on and who was who and I was often was surprised that this heralded writer wrote sentences that seemed very "cheesy". I also had no appreciation of the characters -- could not relate to any of them. His only other book I read was: "Gatsby" and I did appreciate that one so I guess all is not lost.
I would have tried for Last Tycoon and This Side of Paradise -- but decided to "give up the ship"! I read lots and lots of books but I think I have discovered I am only capable of appreciating a more limited number. I wish I had more of Richard Yates!! I am never bored by what I read so when I am -- I just have admit it may be "over my head" and that I will do gladly in order to focus on the books I truly love and relate to.
12 people found this helpful
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Barry Stewart Levy
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Portrait of a Doomed Marriage
Reviewed in the United States on July 7, 2019
F. Scott Fitzgerald''s lovely portrait of a doomed marriage, mirroring his own with his wife Zelda, including his alcoholism and her mental illness. Much of the novel is lyrically and floridly written, interspersing scenes of love, lust betrayal, recrimination and loss, as... See more
F. Scott Fitzgerald''s lovely portrait of a doomed marriage, mirroring his own with his wife Zelda, including his alcoholism and her mental illness. Much of the novel is lyrically and floridly written, interspersing scenes of love, lust betrayal, recrimination and loss, as well as satiric digs at the upper classes drinking and dining and sunning themselves on the French and Italian Rivera. While it is not on the level of "The Great Gatsby," his themes and use of language have sparked my interest to read "This Side of Paradise" and some of his other works.
7 people found this helpful
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Ozzie
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Worth the effort
Reviewed in the United States on January 13, 2017
The writing is very unlike anything you read today. His use of imagery is spectacular. The use of vocabulary makes me yearn for a time when words - and how you used them - really mattered to people. This is not an easy book to read; however, once you realize... See more
The writing is very unlike anything you read today. His use of imagery is spectacular. The use of vocabulary makes me yearn for a time when words - and how you used them - really mattered to people.

This is not an easy book to read; however, once you realize how autobiographical the material is, you can better appreciate the emotion that when into the writing.

If you want to read a book written by one of the great authors of the Jazz Age, you should put this book at the top of your list.
17 people found this helpful
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DPD
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Absolutely !
Reviewed in the United States on June 8, 2020
Take the time and give this a read. Like most students I''d been assigned Great Gatsby years ago. I just never got around to his other titles. After reading this I must return to Gatsby and have already started his short stories. His style is incredible and has most... See more
Take the time and give this a read. Like most students I''d been assigned Great Gatsby years ago. I just never got around to his other titles. After reading this I must return to Gatsby and have already started his short stories.
His style is incredible and has most likely influenced many authors since. If you miss a pertinent piece of an FSF scene, it will be your oversight not his.
I sure wish there were more of his work to read.
Enjoy the story and his masterful telling of it.
4 people found this helpful
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Amazon Customer
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Disappointing
Reviewed in the United States on September 24, 2017
I looked forward to reading this book as I had heard that it was his best work. That enticed me as I have always felt Fitzgerald''s best book was "The Great Gatsby" which I consider a masterpiece. This book does not change my mind. I found it sounding very... See more
I looked forward to reading this book as I had heard that it was his best work. That enticed me as I have always felt Fitzgerald''s best book was
"The Great Gatsby" which I consider a masterpiece. This book does not change my mind. I found it sounding very dated, and even tedious. I could not finish it as I lost interest.
Obviously, others will not agree, but if I were asked to recommend a Fitzgerald book, I would definitely go with Gatsby.
6 people found this helpful
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Mary Holmes Dague
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
BETTER NOVEL THAN GATSBY!
Reviewed in the United States on May 25, 2013
Tender is the Night is F. Scott Fitzgerald''s true masterpiece. Some scholars say the book is quasi-autobiographical, but really it doesn''t matter. What matters is the intense story of a marriage continually manipulated by both spouses, who do love each other. That''s a... See more
Tender is the Night is F. Scott Fitzgerald''s true masterpiece. Some scholars say the book is quasi-autobiographical, but really it doesn''t matter. What matters is the intense story of a marriage continually manipulated by both spouses, who do love each other. That''s a rather complex setting to start. As a couple they are full of adorers in the hot spots in Southen France in summer. The wife is moved to sanitariums in Switzerland in winters. Her husband is her psychiatrist, but she is not aware. The fascination of the book comes from a man revealing his feelings to the reader, as does the spouse, but she plays a game of emotions closer to the vest. And the husband is free to roam, as men do, ostensibly to conferences, but also so see friends, men and women. He''s not eactly a womanizer, but not a devoted spouse either. This book is very intense, nothing like Gatsby, and should be a candidate for The Great American Novel.
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Top reviews from other countries

aracla
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Scribner always
Reviewed in Italy on November 5, 2020
Another masterpiece by Fitzgerald. I give you one reason to read it, this quote "I don''t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there''ll always be the person I am to-night." - as for the book itself, I suggest you to buy the...See more
Another masterpiece by Fitzgerald. I give you one reason to read it, this quote "I don''t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there''ll always be the person I am to-night." - as for the book itself, I suggest you to buy the Scribner edition always, as it was Fitzgerald''s editor and it is the most genuine you can trust. This particular one is a beat cheap in terms of paper quality, I mean it''s too thin, but I knew that as I bought the cheap version. As for the rest, all good. Ok size of the letters .
Another masterpiece by Fitzgerald. I give you one reason to read it, this quote "I don''t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there''ll always be the person I am to-night." - as for the book itself, I suggest you to buy the Scribner edition always, as it was Fitzgerald''s editor and it is the most genuine you can trust. This particular one is a beat cheap in terms of paper quality, I mean it''s too thin, but I knew that as I bought the cheap version. As for the rest, all good. Ok size of the letters .
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Gato 520
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
A brilliant masterpiece
Reviewed in Canada on June 27, 2020
Though GREAT GATSBY is, indeed, "great".... far deeper, more nuanced & more heart-breakingly profound is the brilliant masterwork TENDER IS THE NIGHT. One of the masterpieces for the ages.....
Though GREAT GATSBY is, indeed, "great".... far deeper, more nuanced & more heart-breakingly profound is the brilliant masterwork TENDER IS THE NIGHT. One of the masterpieces for the ages.....
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A. Martinez
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Fitzgerald is Classic American.
Reviewed in Mexico on July 15, 2017
Despite having written so few books, Fitzgeral is in a class of his own. It was originally 4 books when he was writing and theres an introduction that details his life as he was writing this book. Tender is the night obviously includes all 4 of the books he released as they...See more
Despite having written so few books, Fitzgeral is in a class of his own. It was originally 4 books when he was writing and theres an introduction that details his life as he was writing this book. Tender is the night obviously includes all 4 of the books he released as they were completed.
Despite having written so few books, Fitzgeral is in a class of his own. It was originally 4 books when he was writing and theres an introduction that details his life as he was writing this book. Tender is the night obviously includes all 4 of the books he released as they were completed.
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Cliente de Amazon
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Buen libro
Reviewed in Mexico on August 3, 2016
Es un excelente libro. Es un "must read" si eres fan de Scott Fitzgerald. Con envío gratis tarda 3 días en llegar.
Es un excelente libro. Es un "must read" si eres fan de Scott Fitzgerald. Con envío gratis tarda 3 días en llegar.
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Nicky Australia
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
engaging classic
Reviewed in Australia on November 13, 2015
I will not attempt to review a classic . Added whispersync Beautifully narrated - I note many people have narrated this book , however I love the gentleness of this voice
I will not attempt to review a classic .
Added whispersync
Beautifully narrated - I note many people have narrated this book , however I love the gentleness of this voice
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Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale

Tender Is the online sale online Night (Cover May Vary) sale