"Oh, it isn't that I mind the glittering caste system...a bunch of hot cats on top, but gosh, Kery, I've got to be one of them" (45).
If there is a characterization that F. Scott Fitzgerald knew how to write very effectively, it is that of a high-functioning narcissist. Do with that what you will. The Beautiful and Damned, The Great Gatsby, and This Side of Paradise all center around young men and women who can put on a great show of charm and social adjustment, but ultimately are much too selfish to avoid disillusionment with the world's many inconveniences.
Whether wealthy or poor, and often waffling between the two throughout the course of the novel, his characters feel owed satisfaction of their desires (wealth, status, love and relationships). In the end, every reader knows that the callous world will not bow to the demands of its citizens. At the very least, every dream requires prolonged work to attain. Those free dreams that are imparted upon entitled individuals are usually not what they really wanted anyway.
1. "You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination" (136).
Consistent characterization. In This Side of Paradise, Amory is set up as a man built by his formative experiences. His overly doting, self-absorbed, and class-obsessed mother sets him on a path of preoccupation with "making something of himself." Of course, this goal is not entirely without merit, but the book delves into the many problems created by both his motivations and tactics for doing so. Amory wants to be important and viewed as successful by his peers, and thus he spends most of his time meditating internally rather than actually living or forming lasting relationships. Everything he does must be categorically worthwhile to get ahead in whatever environment he finds himself.
Unfortunately, that desire is not strong enough to actually propel him into any real pursuit of achievement. He is lazy almost to a fault, preferring to do nothing at all if whatever task he finds before himself does not seem extremely visible and offer immediate gratification. The result of it all is that he is never truly held accountable and ends up poor, single, without any true friends, and lacking in a skill set that would at least give him a livable income.
While this characterization is utterly insufferable and quite infuriating, but Amory does just enough randomly good or selfless acts in order to garner some sympathy with the reader. Multiple times throughout the novel, I found myself thinking that maybe he was finally on the road to change and had hit that point when a person realizes that they are the architect of their own demise. But no! Just Amory being Amory. He ends up destitute, the consequence of his own actions, which is satisfying in a sense as well.
2. "You will admit that if it was not life it was magnificent" (9).
An undertone of blandly humorous irony. A sense of realism, that the world is a certain way and isn't going to change, undergirds the whole novel. Smoking is bad for your lungs and will probably result in lung cancer, but gosh is it fulfilling in the moment when you want a cigarette with all of your friends. The way that Amory lives while he is young, and even after he goes to war, is all for the pleasure of today. He pretends to want more, but he never really does anything to climb the social or economic ladder. He has many capabilities and advantages, but they only do so much for him until his natural failings drag him down.
He is something of a philosopher, sitting back and talking with his friends and lovers about the meaning of life and how society's problems can be solved. The issue is not the soliloquizing itself, but rather the jaded naivete behind it all. That may sound like an oxymoron, but Amory embodies it. He is an idealist, unconsciously expecting a world that will just fall into the palm of his hand. Alternatively, he complains about the pointlessness of effort in the face of inevitable failure.
The absolute lack of self-awareness, while being entirely self-focused, is partly what makes many of the characters, including the protagonist, so interesting. It is a psychoanalysis of entitlement mixed with flighty apathy and occasional good intentions. The author seems to reach through the dialogue to wink at the reader and say, "Isn't this just the wildest take? Can you believe they really think this way? So tragic, you have to laugh."
3. "Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays" (170).
Creative elements. This point could go either way for me--positive or negative. TSoP is famous (or infamous, depending on your position) for breaking into a play in the latter half, for a few chapters, and then returning to traditional novel form. I understand the purpose as being a nod to Amory's constant posturing, as though he is the star of a sitcom or reality television show. When he meets Rosalind, a name strikingly similar to that of Romeo's love obsession before he meets Juliet, he has found his performative match.
They swirl around each other for weeks, caught in the throes of intense romantic attraction. They play the parts just as everyone would "expect," and inevitably, Rosalind drops Amory for a much richer paramour. All of these aspects fit perfectly into the star-crossed lovers trope. Neither of them is selfless enough to sacrificially love another person, and ultimately Rosalind is right when she says that they would end up hating one another in marriage for just this reason.
All that to say, I understand the play, and I think it is a bold move. Do I respect it? Yes. Do I also think it's a bit melodramatic? Also, yes. But that's why we read Fitzgerald.
Strangely, as I read back through these points, it would almost seem that I didn't actually like this novel. In reality, I liked it a lot more than I thought I would, especially after reading The Beautiful and Damned and being disappointed. It's a bit long and bloated, and the characters are extremely irritating at several points, but it is also very realistic to people's true motivations and the natural consequences of life.