F. SCOTT FITZGERALD's centenary occurs on September 24th, and among the books commissioned for the occasion, Eleanor Lanahan's Zelda: An Illustrated Life should be of special interest - the author is one of the doomed couple's three grandchildren, but had no idea until a Life photographer came to her family home in 1959 who her famous grandparents were.
This was partly because her mother, Scottie, who was their only child, shielded her from the fact - and also because, in the years following his death, Fitzgerald was largely regarded (if at all) as an alcoholic, burdened with a mad wife, who had fallen victim to the shallow lures of Hollywood.
And though the most touching of Fitzgerald's letters were to his daughter as she was growing up, in later life Scottie went out of her way to stifle memories of her unstable childhood. "What she saw," 48 year old Eleanor says, "was that her father was a drunk and a dead beat author and that her mother was a schizophrenic. She wanted us children to be a safety zone, and she made denial work well. But I have felt the need to reclaim my grandparents."
This she has assiduously done. Her university thesis was on Fitzgerald, and last year she brought out her first book, Scottie, The Daughter Of ... (HarperCollins), which was the result of seven years going through material in the Fitzgerald archives at Princeton and through the 64 packing cases left to her by her mother, who died eight years ago.
The new book attempts to give Zelda (who died in a hospital fire a few months before Eleanor was born) due credit for her own artistic work, especially her paintings. And though it pleases Eleanor that in recent years Zelda has become something of a feminist icon, she would prefer to see her grandmother acknowledged for her paintings rather than as the victimised partner of a controlling husband.
Eleanor herself admits: "I come from a long line of drinkers, and I like a sip or two. It must be in the genes." Still, she wasn't prepared for the response of a major American gallery owner when she was trying to arrange an exhibition to coincide with the new book. "Zelda Fitzgerald?" he inquired. "Wasn't she the drunk and nutcase?" He turned the exhibition down.
I hear that this year's Booker Prize judges have already met to I establish a list of 15 to 20 front runners and that Seamus Deane's first novel, Reading in The Dark (see review on page 9), has hugely impressed some of them, so don't be surprised if it makes it to the shortlist.
Don't be surprised, either, if Colm Toibin's The Story of the Night and Edna O'Brien's Down by the River are serious contenders. This is just a gut instinct I have, but if it proves true, it will make for the strongest ever Irish representation on the shortlist (though Irish novels have a habit, broken only by Roddy Doyle's Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, of not being voted outright winner).
I see, too, that Booker chairperson Carmen Callil is coeditor with Colm Toibin of a forthcoming Picador anthology of postwar Irish writing. Postwar? Courtesy of Eamon de Valera, I thought we didn't have a war in Ireland.
SO T.S. Eliot wrote some smutty doggerel. Gosh. You should take a look sometime at the extra verses Cole Porter penned for You're the Top and Always True to You in My Fashion - verses that dear old Ella never dared sing, or (more likely) that Verve boss Norman Granz wouldn't let her sing. These were far more ribald than anything Thomas Stearns ever wrote, and far more elegant and witty, too.
Anyway, what's next? The lewd lines Philip Larkin wrote for the amusement of his cronies, perhaps. In his edition of the Collected Poems, Anthony Thwaite coyly refrained from printing any of these, though he did include the hitherto unseen four line Administration, which was written in 1965 and which gives cheering signs that Larkin had a talent for the lascivious:
Day by day your estimation clocks up
Who deserves a smile and who a frown,
And girls you have to tell to pull their socks up
Are those whose pants you'd most like to pull down
Obviously, life as a librarian wasn't without its moments for Larkin.
A reported recently in this column, the 60p mini book gimmick has had its day. Not only are complete sets of the Penguin and Phoenix House style objects being offered at greatly reduced prices, but I learn from Jeanette F. Huber of Kinsale that the Penguins are being offered free with coffee.
All you do (if you're really so inclined) is purchase a carton of Douwe Egberts coffee, then purchase a carton of their decaffeinated coffee, then send the barcodes along to a PO Box number, and then they'll send you a Penguin mini book in return. It hardly seems worth either the expense or the bother, but don't let me stop you.