Nobody has ever measured, not even poets,
how much the heart can hold.
Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald
Born in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1900, Zelda Fitzgerald died on March 10, 1949, when she was trapped by a fire at a mental hospital in Asheville, North Carolina. Her creativity stifled, her independent personality punished, and her illnesses misdiagnosed–the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald is probably one of the least understood and most fascinating women of the previous century.
Creative people will create in the face of enormous obstacles, but how wonderful it would be to live in a world–and even in families–where creativity is valued, respected, and nurtured. I marvel at the jealousies, fears, and resentments that led Scott and Zelda to tear each other down rather than nourish each other’s talents.
It was good to sit on the roof of the wonderful Hotel Monteleone, seventeen stories above New Orleans, and ponder writing and relationships with Marika a couple of weeks ago. The hotel is one of only three in the United States that has been designated a literary landmark because it has either housed famous writers or been written about in their works. These writers include Ernest Hemingway, Truman Capote, Rebecca Wells, Walker Percy, William Faulkner, Sherwood Anderson, Tennessee Williams, Richard Ford, and Eudora Welty.
The day had been gray and cold, but just before Marika arrived, the sun pushed its way out of the clouds. We were able to enjoy sitting next to the heated pool on the roof for a few hours before the wind finally drove us inside. (Visitors be warned; the plugs on the roof don’t work, so there’s no power source for your laptops.)
I’ve put photos behind the cut–I hope they offer a bit of spring to my snow-weary friends.
A few photos I took of the Hotel Monteleone’s interior were previously posted here.
Beautiful!
(Less than 2 months til saints and sinners! I can’t wait to see whoever is able to make it!)
Harrumph. I’ve stayed there, and so have you now. They need to add US to their distinguished list. 🙂
The roof there is so lovely…
Shall we ask them to put our novels in their display cases?
Yes, He’s the One with its delectable denim clad butt, and of course, Bourbon Street Blues.
That should raise some eyebrows, eh?
Where’s the picture of you spitting off the roof?
On the wall of the NOPD.
I told you she was a bad influence.
it reminds me of the grounds of La Posada in Laredo, though La Posada is not 17 stories…
i meant to comment yesterday, to wish everyone a happy birthday, but i knew you were busy with the AIDS walk.
This town has too much writer-blood on its hands (I didn’t know she died here!).
I am really liking these rooftop shots, Becky. One of them is dangerously close to the railing, though, ya daredevil. : )
I was actually surprised at myself. It’s pretty much the first time I’ve done anything like that for over six years. Maybe working in a tall building last fall helped?
I can’t believe I missed that anniversary. I always thought that must have been one of the most horrific ways to die. Zelda’s the source of one of my favorite quotes: “…she covered her face with powder and paint because she didn’t need it and she refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn’t boring. She was conscious that the things she did were the things she had always wanted to do.”
Words to live by, in a way. And words which of course inspired a Pet Shop Boys song, so how could I not like them?
Thanks! That’s a bit of Pet Shop Boys trivia I’d never have known without you. “Being Boring,” right?
Having devoured all of Scott F’s novels aged about 15 I was so terribly dismayed to then learn out about Zelda – it all seemed such a waste . . .
I must add Hotel Monteleone to my list of “100 places to visit” !! Thanks for the pictures – the views are quite spectacular.