Francis Scott Fitzgerald is one of the most representative authors of American Literature and, like me, he really loved a hot summer night with a plenty glass of whiskey
(Eh, if you don’t mind… this will be a surrealistic article)
In 1925, The Scribers publishing house published a novel called the Great Gatsby, a story about very rich people and their relationships in the happy Roaring Twenties before Wall Street crash in 1929. It was the third novel of this writer –all Fitzgerald’s books were published by the Scribers publishing house-.
Yesterday night we were watching the adaptation of The Great Gatsby staring by Robert Redford and Mia Farrow (no comment about her, sorry). I have read the book many years ago but I could remember it while we were watching the movie. Of course, it’s a great film and the book is magnificent but… have you noticed that it’s a story in the 1920’s? Yes, and in New York and in every corner in the USA there was something called Prohibition that banned completely the sale and manufacturing of all alcoholic beverages: distilled spirits, beer, and wine. And yes, the great secret of this great Gatsby is, precisely, that this period was when one bootlegger can earn money faster than a trade-broker in Wall Street (yes, things have changed). The novel and the film is a continuous trip from bottle to bottle and from whiskey to whiskey (we all know the great love of Fitzgerald for whiskey).
If you have read me before, you might know I’m not precisely a puritan and I love whiskey even more than Fitzgerald and Hemingway together and I don’t like any kind of banning or prohibition or something similar. I don’t want to kill and I haven’t hit anyone in all my life and, I promise, I don’t need a prohibition or a commandment to continue without killing… but while I was watching the film I thought something… ridiculous and, of course, surrealistic. A forbidden thing is always attractive and, during the Prohibition period, the Americans drunk very much than after or before these years and… was it the real cause of Wall Street crash? (I’m joking, of course, wait a moment to call the ambulance). The main characters continue drinking chapter after chapter and party after party and one of them, the narrator, Nick Carraway, finishes the terrible day drinking a whiskey (sorry, I cannot remember if the character in the book did the same).
And I am thinking another thing. Why have all writers this curious love to spirits? I don’t know but I will promise another thing: I won’t ever create a crack in Wall Street.
Anyway, I’m not so much inspired today. I think I need a plenty glass of my beloved whiskey. See you later!