I started this book on the plane to Rome, finished it on the train to London, and had a friend take this photo for me at our flat in Paris. Zelda would approve, I’m sure. (She’d also be envious of that plane ride – I can’t imagine having to take a boat across the Atlantic!)
This was a delightful read, reminding me of The Beautiful and Damned (how autobiographical was that supposed to be?), and continuing my theme of reading characters from Midnight in Paris. They were a rowdy bunch!
My anti-Hemingway stance has grown, based on this story, but I am going to force myself to read A Moveable Feast just to give him one more chance to speak. (I couldn’t bear to start it in Paris, where I had intended to read it, because of how much I hated the character/person after this novel.)