Fitzgeraldfest!! Completely serendipitously, I found myself this weekend simultaneously reading two New Yorker articles about F. Scott Fitzgerald.
One is from the 11/16/09 issue, an article I ripped out and saved to read when I was weeding through a giant stack of New Yorkers for recycling. It's about Fitgerald's attempt to become a Hollywood screenwriter. Apparently he was a dismal failure, partly because he was an alcoholic going through bad times, and partly because (unlike with Larry McMurtry, apparently!) his talents as a fiction writer did not transfer well to screenwriting. I stuck that clipping, along with several others, in my purse, to read when I found myself out and about with extra time on my hands.
The other is from the 9/27/10 issue, the one whose cover shows a bed occupied by two apparently post-coital bedbugs. It's about a little experimental theater company in New York that produces an eight-hour show called "Gatz" in which an actor reads "The Great Gatsby" in its entirety while other actors in the background play office workers who do things that sort of loosely reflect the action in the novel.
Both were really interesting!