Careless People by Sarah Churchwell: The glamour and grimness of Gatsby

Sarah Churchwell's Careless People is as mixed and inclusive as F Scott Fitzgerald’s scrapbooks. Both offer 1922 as the chief exhibit to explain the jazz age.

Careless People: Murder, Mayhem and the Invention of The Great Gatsby
Sarah Churchwell
Virago, 448pp, £16.99

F Scott Fitzgerald wrote his greatest novel in France in 1924, having exiled himself in order to get some work done. But during those ten months of intense writing, he thought his way back to the parties, quarrels, hopes and disappointments of his life with Zelda and their friends on Long Island in the feted and fateful year of 1922.

This is the world that Sarah Churchwell reconstructs for us as she lays out the raw materials from which The Great Gatsby was made. We meet the people Fitzgerald met: newspaper tycoons such as Herbert Swope and entrepreneurs such as Larry Fay, who made his money from liquor and taxis (and smuggling liquor in taxis) and spent it on his rainbow collection of beautifully tailored shirts. We start to learn the ropes of 1920s Manhattan: the colour of taxis, the customary length of skirts, the modish vocabulary. Eventually, we feel we might just telephone through to the Fitzgeralds (ask the operator for Great Neck 740). Dialling codes and lexicons – these details matter. The first readers of Gatsby thought it was all about themselves, a book of the moment. Today, we tend to admire its enduring mythology of aspiration and undoing. Churchwell brilliantly brings these two perspectives together as she holds in counterpoint the sprawling stuff of Fitzgerald’s daily life and the gleamingly taut prose poem that emerged from it.

It is too easy, Churchwell warns, to make simple equations between fiction and reality. She deals instead with hauntings, doublings and reverberations. The enigmatic green light across the dock, to which Gatsby stretches out his arms, is not literally related to the traffic lights recently erected in Manhattan. Yet there is just a shadow of shared meaning, a shadow that deepens and enriches the enigma.

The jazz age documented here is sadder and less glittering than Baz Luhrmann would have us believe in his new film of The Great Gatsby. Churchwell evokes the allure of the speakeasies but also the seediness of an underground world run by crooks without compunction: “Speakeasies had false fronts, barrels had false bottoms, drunk drivers gave false names to the police and upstarts depended on making false impressions.”

Fitzgerald conjugated the verb “to cocktail” but tired of the game after reaching the conditional subjunctive. The continuous round of drinking could turn, likewise, from pleasure to tedium. There is a photograph of a party at the Fitzgeralds’ house in which the guests look weary. “Where is the magic?” asks Churchwell. Where, indeed? As the parties went on through 1923, Fitzgerald had a sense of repetition and disintegration. “February: Still drunk . . . April . . . Another fight. Tearing drunk,” he noted in his ledger. He summed up the mood in a marginal note: “No ground under our feet.” There was nothing inherently enchanted about these lives. In his fiction, Fitzgerald kept writing about the awful realisation that magic cannot always be summoned.

Knowing that the good times would pass, desperately needing facts that would ground him, Fitzgerald saved things up. This was his counter to the carelessness of his milieu. He kept ledgers and scrapbooks, he made lists, he preserved cuttings. He had a profound need to archive and Churchwell takes her cue from him as she sorts through the flotsam of his life, honouring his curious relics. Here is a photograph of Zelda in the snow, faded to ghostliness. Here are notes on the back of a dinner menu, a yellowed rhyme saying “Flappy New Year”, a Fitzgerald autograph ready to cut out and keep.

Careless People is as mixed and inclusive as Fitzgerald’s scrapbooks. There are both glamour and grimness here. Even the typography varies between chic deco lettering and the blotchy ink of newspaper headlines. If Churchwell’s book is biography, literary criticism and social history, it is also a work of “detective non-fiction” that might be compared with Kate Summerscale’s The Suspicions of Mr Whicher. The unfolding story of a long, botched murder trial is woven into every chapter, getting stranger and stranger by the page, exposing corruption, envy and ambition of many kinds. A shooting under an apple tree in New Brunswick doesn’t at first sound congruous with Gatsby but it comes to stand as a “phantom double” of the novel’s murderous denouement. The sordid and the tragic become difficult to tell apart.

The police investigating this murder were blunderers who let tourists walk all over the crime scene. The truth went missing, carted off by souvenir hunters. As Nick Carraway says at the end of Gatsby, “It was all very careless and confused.” Churchwell, on the other hand, demonstrates how careful detective work is done.

Fitzgerald offered the year 1922 as the chief exhibit when he tried to explain the meaning of the jazz age. It is an exhibit worth looking at very carefully. Careless People does so with a mixture of patience and panache and it would take a long time to get bored of that particular cocktail.

Churchwell evokes the allure of the speakeasies but also the seediness of an underground world.

This article first appeared in the 10 June 2013 issue of the New Statesman, G0

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How the Oval regained its shape: the famous cricket ground hosts its 100th Test

The challenge for Surrey is to ensure that the new fans drawn to the stadium in recent years keep coming.

Few stadiums have as rich a sporting history as the Oval. After opening its gates in 1845, it hosted England’s first home football international, the first FA Cup final, and Ireland’s inaugural rugby Test.

Though it took 35 years before a cricket Test match – the first ever in England – was played at the ground in Kennington, south London, it was worth waiting for. WG Grace scored 152 runs, setting the tone for many memorable performances  at the Oval. Among the highlights: Len Hutton’s 364 in 1938, still the highest Test score by an England batsman; Viv Richards’s double century and Michael Holding’s 14 wickets for the West Indies before an ecstatic crowd in 1976; England’s Ashes-clinching match in 2005, when a skunk-haired Kevin Pietersen thrashed the Australian attack.

But just five years later, in 2010, the Oval and its host club Surrey were in a bad way. For the first time since 1986, the first day of the annual Oval Test was not a sell-out, and attendances for county games were down. Finances were so stretched that Surrey made a dozen administrative staff redundant, and there was talk of insolvency. The club, which is owned by its 10,000 members and is a tenant of the Duchy of Cornwall, was “very close to a substantial crisis”, Paul Sheldon, then chief executive, said at the time.

Today that seems far away. On 27 July, the Oval hosted its 100th Test, the third match of the series between England and South Africa. The first day was sold out. And Surrey are now the richest first-class county, with £12m of reserves. In 2019, work will begin on a redevelopment scheme that will increase the Oval’s capacity from 25,000 to 40,000, making it the biggest cricket ground in England. (Lord’s, the Oval’s more illustrious rival, can seat 28,000 people.)

“We are in a good place,” said Richard Gould, the current chief executive, one recent afternoon in his grandstand office overlooking the pitch, where a big group of local schoolchildren ran around in the sun.

How did the Oval regain its shape? Gould, whose father Bobby played football for Arsenal and was manager of Wimbledon when the team won the FA Cup in 1988, lists several factors. The first is a greater focus on non-cricketing revenue, taking advantage of the club’s historic facilities. In 2011, when Gould joined Surrey after stints at Bristol City football and Somerset cricket clubs, revenue from corporate events and conferences was £1.3m. This year the projected income is £4.6m.

The second factor is the surge in popularity of the T20 competition played by the 18 first class counties in England and Wales. Unlike Tests, which last for five days, a T20 Blast match takes just three hours. The frenetic format has attracted many people to games who have never previously followed cricket. Surrey, which like Lord’s-based Middlesex have the advantage of being in London, have been especially successful in marketing its home games. Advance sell-outs are common. Surrey reckon they will account for one in six T20 tickets bought in the UK this season, with gate receipts of £4m, four times more than in 2010.

Whereas Test and even one-day international spectators tend to be regulars – and male – Gould estimates that up to 70 per cent of those who attend T20 games at the Oval are first-timers. Women, and children under 16, typically constitute a quarter of the crowd, a higher percentage than at football and rugby matches and a healthy trend for the game and the club.

The strong domestic T20 sales encouraged the Oval’s management to focus more on the county than on the national team. Until a few years ago, Surrey never seriously marketed its own merchandise, unlike professional football clubs, which have done so successfully for decades.

“When I came here, everything around the ground was focused on England,” Gould said. “We needed to put our team first. In the past, county cricket did not make you money. With T20, there’s a commercial business case.”

To raise its profile and pull in the crowds, Surrey have signed some of the biggest international stars in recent years, including Australia’s Ricky Ponting, South Africa’s Hashim Amla, Sri Lanka’s Kumar Sangakkara and Kevin Pietersen, who is now mainly a T20 franchise player. For the players, as with the counties, it’s where the money is.

The challenge for Surrey is to ensure that the new fans drawn to the Oval in recent years keep coming. In common with many businesses today, customer data is crucial. The club has 375,000 names on its marketing database, of which 160,000 are Surrey supporters. But since the average T20 purchaser buys six tickets, many people who attend games at the Oval remain unknown to the club. One way Surrey are trying to identify them is through a service that allows one person to book tickets for a group of friends, who then each pay the club directly. Another method is through offering free, fast Wi-Fi at the ground, which anyone can use as long as they register their email address.

For all the focus on T20, Gould is keen to stress that England internationals, especially Test matches, are a crucial part of the Oval’s future – even if the business model may have to be tweaked.

“We always want to be one of the main Test venues. The problem we have is: will countries still put aside enough time to come to play Tests here? In many countries domestic T20 now takes precedence over international cricket. It may be that we may have to start to pay countries to play at the Oval.” 

Xan Rice is Features Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Summer double issue