All the Sad Young MenFitzgerald, F. Scott (Francis Scott)
General
All the Sad Young Men
Fitzgerald, F. Scott (Francis Scott)
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, American
I saw less of him on the trip than I had hoped. He wanted to arrange a
foursome, but there was no one available, so I saw him only at meals.
Sometimes, though, he would have a cocktail in the bar, and he told me
about the girl in the red tam, and his adventures with her, making them
all bizarre and amusing, as he had a way of doing, and I was glad that
he was himself again, or at least the self that I knew, and with which I
felt at home. I don't think he was ever happy unless some one was in
love with him, responding to him like filings to a magnet, helping him
to explain himself, promising him something. What it was I do not know.
Perhaps they promised that there would always be women in the world who
would spend their brightest, freshest, rarest hours to nurse and protect
that superiority he cherished in his heart.
WINTER DREAMS
Some of the caddies were poor as sin and lived in one-room houses with a
neurasthenic cow in the front yard, but Dexter Green's father owned the
second best grocery-store in Black Bear--the best one was "The Hub,"
patronized by the wealthy people from Sherry Island--and Dexter caddied
only for pocket-money.
In the fall when the days became crisp and gray, and the long Minnesota
winter shut down like the white lid of a box, Dexter's skis moved over
the snow that hid the fairways of the golf course. At these times the
country gave him a feeling of profound melancholy--it offended him that
the links should lie in enforced fallowness, haunted by ragged sparrows
for the long season. It was dreary, too, that on the tees where the gay
colors fluttered in summer there were now only the desolate sand-boxes
knee-deep in crusted ice. When he crossed the hills the wind blew cold
as misery, and if the sun was out he tramped with his eyes squinted up
against the hard dimensionless glare.
In April the winter ceased abruptly. The snow ran down into Black Bear
Lake scarcely tarrying for the early golfers to brave the season with
red and black balls. Without elation, without an interval of moist glory,
the cold was gone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account