Published in 1988, Hollywood is the last of the novels about Bukowski’s alter-ego Henry Chinaski. The novel functions as both a coda to the Chinaski cycle, and also as a brief retrospective of the author’s life, with the movie-making process providing the author and narrator with a means to access memories. In the novel, Chinaski writes a screenplay based on his life set during the same time as the events depicted in Factotum. The plot of the book closely follows Bukowski’s own experience in Hollywood making the movie Barfly[1]which ultimately led to an increase in income and recognition and a much more comfortable lifestyle including paying off his mortgage as noted by Barry Miles.[2]
The Bukowski-myth relies on its author to set his face against everything, to stubbornly scorn both those who flatter and those who ridicule, as Jeffrey Encke wrote ‘the defining feature of [Bukowski’s] public persona’ is his ‘strictly contrary disposition’.[3] It requires Bukowski to write for writing’s sake with no other end in mind. Sounes celebrates how Bukowski ‘was a writer who had never compromised his art’ despite living in ‘L.A., a town where most creative people aim to sell out as soon as possible.’[4]
Sounes does not accept that Bukowski sold out despite the change in lifestyle that the sale of his script for Barfly (1984) brought in and claims that Bukowski wrote the screenplay ‘as an intellectual exercise when he could be bothered’.[5] Sounes wants to believe that the substantial advance for the script and the increase in book sales which came from Bukowski’s raised profile as a result of his time working in the movies was incidental and simply a fortunate outcome.[6]
I would argue however, that if we apply strain theory to Hollywood we see that this is not the case: In Hollywood we see the dismantling of the Bukowski-myth as the narrator Chinaski finds work in Hollywood and achieves a degree of success, fame, and wealth unrealized before, just as the implied and historical Bukowskis did. In Hollywood, the deviant becomes a conformist.
The concept of the implied author is especially relevant to the work of Bukowski as it allows for the existence of the Bukowski-myth within the text without presuming knowledge of Bukowski’s intent. As Chatman writes, ‘the source of a narrative text’s ideological nexus – is the implied author’.[7] It is not Bukowski, the ‘real, historical author’[8] whose views we are interacting with, and nor is it Chinaski, the fictional narrator. Rather it is a fictionalized Bukowski, the implied author, who a fan of Bukowski would have knowledge of through interviews and his published letters.
Of the five Chinaski novels, it is the one that assumes the most understanding from the reader of the author’s personal life and begins in media res some time after Chinaski has first been approached to write a screenplay. ‘A couple of days later Pinchot phoned. He said he wanted to go ahead with the screenplay.’[9] The character Pinchot is the director of the movie in the novel and based on Barbet Schroeder, the director of Barfly. Hollywood is a roman à clef and full of thinly disguised characters based closely on real life people. There is Victor Norman based on Norman Mailer, Frances Ford Loppola based on Frances Ford Coppola, among many more. The veil between fiction and non-fiction is Hollywood is thinner than in any other of Bukowski’s books and the fact that Henry Chinaski is Charles Bukowski is made explicit. Bukowski writes, ‘Henry Chinaski was the name I had used for the main character in my various novels’ (p. 144). For the fictional Henry Chinaski to make such a claim would be nonsensical, and it is at this point that it is made very clear that the dramatic distance between authorial and narrative voices has been flattened. The narrator and the implied author, the reader’s conceptualization of Bukowski as created by the Bukowski-myth have become one. The historical author, that is the real life Charles Bukowski, is also much closer to the implied author than at any other point in his career during Hollywood as so many of the elements of the created Bukowski-myth are stripped away. Through this compression of the distance between author and reader, Bukowski achieves the simple structure which he had always been attempting to accomplish throughout his career and the reader is shown a very honest presentation of the real Bukowski. Hollywood acts as a confession of sorts as the man who created the Bukowski-myth reveals himself to be a man who experiences the desire to be a part of society.
This flattening of the hierarchy of narrative is further demonstrated at the end of the novel. Bukowski/Chinaski is contemplating what to do after production of the movie ends. He says,
“Oh hell, I’ll write a novel about writing the screenplay and making the movie.”
“Sure, I guess you can do that.”
“I can, I think.”
“What are you going to call it?”
“Hollywood.”
“Hollywood?”
“Yes…”
And this is it (pp. 262-263).
By the end of the novel, any distance between Chinaski and the implied Bukowski has been removed.
The narrative hierarchy in the novel is further explored during the making of the movie. Bukowski writes about Chinaski writing about his life and then watching as actors interpret those words and perform them. Chinaski notes that the scene being shot was ‘all right. It was good, but it wasn’t quite right’ referring to the discrepancies between the reality of the events which the movie is based on and the performance of them (p. 185). It seems that the historical Bukowski is becoming further removed from the events being depicted. His life is being interpreted through the novel form, then the screenplay form, and then finally the acting form as the reader experiences the historical author, the implied author, and then the narrator who is watching other characters interpret his life. The scene being shot immediately flattens those interceding aspects through which the real life events can be distorted as the character being portrayed is Jane Cooney Baker, Bukowski’s deceased first wife and the only character to have her real name used in the novel.[10]
Bukowski explores the notion of reality through these various layers of narrative and what at first appears to be a literal retelling of real life events is shown to be fraught with questions of what reality is and what an individual’s experience of their life means in the retelling. Bukowski loses control of his own life story when it is retold; the historical author is replaced by the implied author in the reader’s understanding of the ideologies of Bukowski. The myth which he created is then recreated each time a reader engages with the text and Bukowski no longer owns it, just as Chinaski loses ownership of his life as he watches it performed by actors. The biographical nature of the whole of Bukowski’s oeuvre is now called into question through this scene, leaving the reader dizzied by the layers of reality presented.
The post-modern disorientation of the narrative is non-conformist in nature and is contrasted with the social conformity which Chinaski demonstrates in the novel. This discrepancy between dramatic structure and character motivation is the opposite of that in Factotum in which the traditional dramatic structure of the inverted-U contrasts with the social retreatism of Chinaski.
Hollywood shows Chinaski conforming to society. In the initial paper explaining the strain theory model, Robert K. Merton did not expand on what conformity looked like, preferring to instead focus on deviant and criminal behaviour. Merton stated that in the America of the 1930’s ‘the extreme emphasis upon the accumulation of wealth as a symbol of success in our society’ was a dominant indicator of success.[11] Later sociologists such as Freddie Choo and Kim Tam regarded Merton’s work as showing that the American Dream was essential to America’s notions of success. They wrote that there was ‘an exaggerated emphasis placed on the goal of monetary success in American society, and they identified this as being, in essence, ‘The American Dream’.[12]
Choo and Tam identify further aspects of the attainment of the American Dream. Among the American middle-class there are certain material comforts which act as signifiers of social success. These are ‘a car, a house, an education for the children, and a secure retirement’.[13] The attainment of the American Dream goes beyond mere wealth accumulation and focuses on the material assets which can be purchased with that wealth; comfort, security, investment in the future, and a leisurely life.
A defining aspect of the American Dream is that those ends can be achieved by anyone who is willing to work hard enough in the apparent meritocracy of America. Merton says that the means is as important to success as the goals as ‘success is reckoned in terms of the product and in the terms of the process’.[14]
Nick Stevenson believes that Karen Sternheimer sees celebrity as functioning as a socially accepted means for achieving these social goals that is open to everyone and that the American Dream is fundamentally linked to class mobility.[15]
In Celebrity Culture and the American Dream, Sternheimer focuses on the role that Hollywood plays in the American Dream. She says that ‘the abundance that the American Dream had always promised seemed to have arrived in an Eden-like Hollywood’.[16] In the 1930’s, the ‘Hollywood publicity machine continued to pump out tales of wealth throughout the depression’.[17] Hollywood subsequently became a ‘fantasy land of celebrity and upward mobility and with it came the fairy tales of small town folk rising out of destitution to make it big in Hollywood.
Throughout the course of Hollywood, Chinaski achieves the American Dream, conforming to society’s goals and means in the process. Chinaski buys a large house (p. 61), and then later a BMW (p. 90). It is striking that he behaves exactly as Choo and Tam suggested someone would who is trying to succeed in society. Chinaski attempts to create some distance between himself and the trappings of success and conformity by making reference to his change in circumstance, seemingly hoping that by drawing attention to his attainment of fame and success, something at odds with his previously held attitude, he could remain independent of it. After Chinaski buys his house he claims that ‘yes, I felt the fear, the fear of becoming like them’ (p. 61). Chinaski recognizes that he has put his reputation as a rebel at risk by working in Hollywood.
Chinaski eventually accepts that he has become one of ‘them’ later in the novel. While eating at the famous Musso’s restaurant in Hollywood, Chinaski recalls eating there in the past before his fame and watching the movie director and stars. Chinaski’s wife muses, “We thought they were shit… and now we are.” (p. 181) Chinaski does not dispute this and further into the novel explicitly states that he is now one of ‘them’. While travelling to the premier of the movie he says ‘we were big shots’ (p. 223).
I would argue that Charles Bukowski’s brief sojourn working in the movie industry was reminiscent of the plethora of well-regarded writers who turned their hand to script writing in the 1930s and 1940s. While these authors damaged their literary reputations by working in Hollywood, Bukowski intentionally dismantled the Bukowski-myth.
Richard Corliss specifically mentions well regarded authors such as ‘[F. Scott] Fitzgerald, [William] Faulkner, [John] O’Hara, [Aldous] Huxley, [Christopher] Isherwood, [and W. H.] Auden’ who all moved west to Hollywood, interrupting their literary careers.[18] These authors were considered significant assets within the studio system, though few were able to create work of any particular significance. While the best work produced during this time was considered good for the movie industry, it was never thought to be as high in quality as the literary output by those same writers.[19]
Richard Corliss believes that not only was the cinematic output of the literary giants not as good as their prose work, but that the time they spent in the studio system diminished their subsequent output. Their reputations were damaged by their association with Hollywood as they were ‘fed into a machine and came out something less’.[20] Corliss goes so far as to claim that the movies destroyed the writers mentioned above.[21]
One of the main motivating factors for the movement of authors into Hollywood was the amount of money available to them. Writers who had previously earned a modest amount from their work suddenly found themselves with the opportunity of earning a regular, substantial paycheck for less work. It is this introduction of significant amounts of money which led to the ‘implication of a sordid relationship between formerly pristine author and commercial film… in which the writer is depicted as betrayer of his literary art’.[22]
The main factor that resulted in this deprecation of reputation was the fact that the writer was no longer in control of the vision of the artistic piece. He was now a hired hand, a part of the machine, one piece in the finished product. It was the director or the producer who was in charge of the overall movie.[23]
Along with the substantial weekly pay came the other trappings of success. The status symbols of large houses with swimming pools, the ample free time to spend in cafes and restaurants ‘The writer in Hollywood was to become the archetype of the American artist as a success – a betrayer of his talent for the cheap rewards of society’.[24]
The author’s experience in Hollywood has become a sub-genre of ‘derisive literature excoriating the Hollywood ‘system’ deploring the movies treatment of the writer and denouncing the writer’s prostitution of his artistic values by embracing Hollywood employment’.[25] Notable works are Fitzgerald’s The Last Tycoon and his Pat Hobby stories, and Nathanael West’s The Day of the Locust. These prominent authors created the blueprint for conformity which Bukowski would later follow.
It is notable that some four decades later, Charles Bukowski found himself living through the same themes as those initial writers. While Hollywood is not as darkly satirical as the above-mentioned works, the themes are the same. That Bukowski was not as damning in his account of his time working in the movies demonstrates a change in his writing from edgy and angry, to gentle and affectionate. This change is just one which shows an abandonment of the Bukowski-myth.
The Bukowski-myth comprised a number of elements. One was the rejection of material success, another the grubby, forgotten locations of LA, and a third was the depiction of base activities, gambling, drinking, and sex. Throughout Hollywood, these elements are subverted as the reader still sees characters engaging in these activities but as they are now wealthy and upper-middle class the behavior is seen as humorous and the desperation of the down-and-out characters of Factotum has been replaced. By the novel’s end, Chinaski no longer embodies these essential elements of the myth.
A famous example of a well-regarded author who moved to Hollywood but was unable to achieve the same degree of success was F. Scott Fitzgerald. Bukowski makes frequent allusions to Fitzgerald throughout the novel inviting comparisons between the two. To gain an understating of the destructive nature of Hollywood on the author, it will be illuminating to use Fitzgerald as a case study.
Fitzgerald was never able to fit in with the studio system and Donaldson claims that he ‘never really belonged there’.[26] The three years that Fitzgerald spent in Hollywood before his death, never breaking through and receiving few credits, contributed to the fact that at the end of his life , ‘Fitzgerald’s reputation was at its nadir’.[27] It was this inability to fit in and to make any inroads which contributed to his alcoholism and ultimately his early death.[28] Anne Margaret Daniel puts forward the same view though in kinder words and states that Fitzgerald’s career ‘as a Hollywood screenwriter had few ups and many downs’, a huge come down from Fitzgerald’s reputation of a decade earlier.[29]
That a writer who fifteen years earlier was considered the shining light of the American literary world found himself writing scripts that were considered ‘trite’, ‘embarrassing’, and with ‘ineffective dialogue’ shows how far he had fallen.[30]
Fitzgerald was always hamstrung by the studio system. He was explicitly forbidden from using his own voice on rewrites for Gone with the Wind.[31] Fitzgerald also found the collaborative effort of movie making impossibly constraining as he wrote to producer Irving Thalberg after seeing rewrites on his script for the unproduced Infidelity ‘you had something and you have arbitrarily torn it to pieces’.[32]
Fitzgerald endeavoured to learn the script-writing craft but could never get the technique down, despite some moments where he demonstrated a workman’s skill. Ultimately he could not function in the Hollywood system. Collaboration and multiple rewrites to appease bureaucrats were not elements that Fitzgerald could successfully navigate.
The extent to which Hollywood can be held accountable for Fitzgerald’s poor literary reputation at the end of his life is in question. By Fitzgerald’s own admission, his creativity was spent three years before his final period working in Hollywood.[33] In fact, Donaldson makes the claim that the time spent in Hollywood gave Fitzgerald a ‘sense of self-respect’ previously missing.[34] Indeed it can be seen that Fitzgerald threw himself into attempting to learn how to be a screen writer even though he ultimately failed. It has also been argued that when looking at his final unfinished novel, The Last Tycoon, Fitzgerald may have been on the verge of doing ‘some of [his] best literary work while writing for the movies’.[35]
Bukowski utilized the failed Hollywood career of Fitzgerald as a form of foreshadowing of his own artistic capitulation by drawing comparisons between Chinaski and Fitzgerald early on in the novel. It seems that Bukowski was acutely aware of the risks he was running to his literary reputation by going to Hollywood to make movies. Bukowski writes that Chinaski used to refer to himself and his wife as ‘Zelda and Scott, but that bothered her because she didn’t like how Zelda had ended up’ (p. 3).
Fitzgerald’s death is also referenced as a direct comparison to Bukowski during a discussion with his wife when trying to decide whether or not to write the screenplay.
‘Maybe you should write the screenplay.’
‘Look what it did to Fitzgerald.’
‘You’re not Fitzgerald.’
‘No he gave up drinking. That’s what killed him’ (p. 8).
It seems that in Hollywood, Chinaski’s eagerness to work in the movie industry is a further example of his self-destructive impulse. While in Factotum Chinaski appears to deliberately sabotage his attempts at employment by drinking on the job, leaving work without permission to drink in a bar, and sometimes simply being rude to his superiors, in Hollywood, Chinaski is aware of the danger to his creativity that Hollywood and success pose and yet jumps at the chance to write a screenplay.
That success has had a fundamental effect on him, is not something which is lost on Chinaski. While being shown round homes by estate agents, Chinaski considers how a wooden porch groans and gives under his weight.
I scaled in at 228, most of it fat instead of muscle. My fighting days were over. To think I had weighed 144 on a 6-foot frame. The good old starving days when I was writing the good stuff’ (p. 48).
Chinaski’s new life of comfort and the food he can now afford to eat has had an explicit negative effect on his literary work; he is no longer writing ‘the good stuff’. This is a belief shared by some of his fans as Chinaski begins to receive vitriolic fan mail, ‘Chinaski! Piss on you! You were once a great writer! Now you suck! You’ve sold out!’ (p. 53) Chinaski is experiencing a similar period of artistic destruction as the authors who went to Hollywood before him did. Just as their artistic output diminished as they earned more money, so does Chinaski by his own admission.
Hollywood marked a distinct change in the literary output of Charles Bukowski as well as in the circumstances of his life. Hollywood sees the destruction of the Bukowski-myth, that essential atmosphere which made Bukowski such a compelling author.
One of the innate aspects of the Bukowski-myth was the setting of his work. Much of his work was set in East Hollywood, an area that Howard Sounes describes as ‘Bukowski-land’; an area of ‘rundown apartment buildings in the smoggy basin of Los Angeles’, inhabited by ‘the working poor of L.A., newly arrived immigrants, and those who have all but given up on life’.[36] Theirs is an existence of violence, frustration, and despair. Psychogeographically, Bukowski’s settings are reflected in the people who live there.
In Hollywood the setting is fundamentally changed. Gone are the dirty tenements and the broken people who inhabit them, replaced by the offices of movie moguls and a plethora of celebrity parties. In Hollywood the location of Bukowski-land shifts and so does the psychology of Henry Chinaski.
The novel opens in Marina Del Rey which Chinaski refers to as ’strange territory’. Chinaski and his party drive past sail boats and the people ’fiddling about on [them]’ (p. 1). These were people who ’had apparently escaped the daily grind of living. They had never been caught up in that grind and never would be. Such were the rewards of the chosen in the land of the free’. This ironic description of the inhabits of this area is one of the final cynical narrative points of the novel as Chinaski soon grows accustomed to the location.
While Chinaski initially considered that this new locale was ’silly’ and declared that his ‘soul is puking’ at being there, he quickly becomes accustomed to his new environment and calls it ‘a magic world. I liked it because I hadn’t seen anything like it before. It was senseless and perfect and safe’ (p. 29). The change in fortunes for Chinaski is striking and leaves the reader off balance as the character is so far removed, physically and emotionally from how he has been presented in earlier novels. This dizzying feeling allows the reader to feel as out of place in this new world as Chinaski is, a bemused outsider watching the surreal behavior of celebrities.
Another key ingredient in the Bukowski-myth is the deliberate removing of oneself from society. Bukowski’s start in life from a middle-class family meant that he was able to succeed socially if he wanted to but he instead intentionally ‘shunned society’ to live life on the fringe of society.[37]
Hollywood sees a reversal in this lifestyle choice as Chinaski becomes a success and he attains the social signifiers of that success. Chinaski attends multiple celebrity events, he is a visible success. He is also able to buy a large detached house and a BMW. These are again events which Bukowski based on his real life, with the purchase of property and new cars and the achievement of a comfortable ‘home situation’.[38]
That the clear sands, blue seas, and kind breezes have had a profound effect on Chinaski is evident in the different tone in Hollywood to Bukowski’s other novels. This new tone is easy going and confident as he readily accepts that if he were to write a screenplay it would be a ‘good one’ as Chinaski knows he is ’hot with words’ (p. 24). The entire novel is endowed with a positive attitude. Chinaski describes his life as ‘all really excellent. Life was good’ (p. 26). This is in direct contrast to the attitude of Factotum. In the earlier novel, Chinaski displays a similar level of confidence, but there is desperation to it. His genius is unrecognised, his talent unfulfilled, his writing a failure, and he is regarded contemptuously by the people he knows.
Sometime during the night as we were talking I fell off the couch. I lay on the floor and looked up at those beautiful legs. ‘Baby,’ I said, ‘I’m a genius but nobody knows it but me.’
She looked down at me. ‘Get up off the floor you damn fool and get me a drink’ (Factotum, p. 48).
The abrupt change in the circumstances of Chinaski’s writing career is nicely demonstrated in one of Bukowski’s writing sequences in which he shows the artist at work. While similar in some ways to the writing process as depicted in Factotum, ‘that night, sitting at the typer I poured two drinks, I drank two drinks, I smoke three cigarettes and listened to Brahms’ Third on the radio’, there is now a fundamental change (p. 31). Within the space of three pages, and interrupting the writing process, Chinaski makes tens of thousands of dollars. ’Within an hour I was 45 thousand dollars richer. 30 years of starvation and rejection were starting to kick in’ (p. 34).
The importance of alcohol to Chinaski’s writing process is crucial. It is a fundamental aspect of his self-destructive character. He loses numerous jobs due to his alcoholism and often claims he only writes so he can afford to drink. This relationship with alcohol also undergoes a substantial change in Hollywood. As he begins to make significant amounts of money, Chinaski employs a financial advisor who claims that as drinking is such an important part of Chinaski’s creative process it can be made tax deductible (p. 39). One by the one, the pillars of the Bukowski-myth are being abandoned.
Another abiding element of the Bukowski-myth is the impotence of the central characters. They are never able to do anything to improve their social situation and so inhabit the lower spaces of any hierarchy they are part of. Power is frequently dreamed of but never obtained and indeed seems unobtainable. In Hollywood this dynamic changes and Chinaski occupies a position of power. The fantasy in Factotum of sexual desirability arising from power become a reality in Hollywood. Chinaski is sent nude photos from aspiring poets in the hope that he can get them published (p. 53).
A further reference to the daydreams of power in Factotum comes as Chinaski is preparing his journey to the premier of his film. He insists on ‘a white stretch limo, a stock of the best wine, colour TV, car phone, cigars…’ (p. 233). Another list of excesses of social signifiers that demonstrate success, but this time it is all real.
At the end of Hollywood, Chinaski leaves the world of the movies and returns to his default existence of gambling and writing. Chinaski and his wife return home from the premier ’just like from any movie’ (p. 262). The nonchalance is intended to show that Chinaski regards his time in Hollywood as just one more surreal episode in his life. But this time, Chinaski has fundamentally changed. He lives in a big house with a new car. He has money he can afford to lose on the horses; his alcohol intake is tax deductible. He has undergone a material change as a result of his conformity. He is now ‘big time. [He] had left the park bench behind’ (p. 240). And with it, his unique creative spark.
Sounes believes that Hollywood is a novel which the reader should find ‘heart warming’ with it being a ‘happy ending’ to the lives of Bukowski and Chinaski.[39] While it is certainly a happy ending worthy of a Hollywood film, there is an air of tragedy present too. The Bukowski-myth has been destroyed.
[1] Barfly, dir. by Barbet Schroeder, (American Zoetrope, 1987).
[2] Barry Miles, p. 248.
[3] Jeffrey Encke, ‘Run-of-the-mill Lunacy’, in Journal of American Studies, 37.1, (April, 2003), 47-58 (p. 48).
[4]Howard Sounes, ‘Introduction’ in Hollywood¸ (Edinburgh: Canongate Books, 2019) p. xi.
[5]Howard Sounes, (2019), p. xi.
[6]Howard Sounes, (2019), p. xvi.
[7] Seymour Chatman, p. 75.
[8] Seymour Chatman, p. 78.
[9]Charles Bukowski, Hollywood¸ (Edinburgh: Canongate Books, 2019), p.1. Further references are given after quotations in the text.
[10]Howard Sounes, (2019), p. xv.
[11]Robert K. Merton, p. 675.
[12]Freddie Choo & Kim Tam, An ‘American Dream’ Theory of Corporate Executive Fraud’, in Accounting Forum, 31 (2007), 203-215 (p. 207).
[13]Freddie Choo & Kim Tam, p. 207.
[14]Robert K. Merton, p. 674.
[15]Nick Stevenson, ‘Review: Sociology in the age of Celebrity’, in Contemporary Sociology, 41.1 (January, 2012), 52-56 (p. 54).
[16]Karen Sternheimer, Celebrity Culture and the American Dream, (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014), p. 60.
[17]Karen Sternheimer, p. 84.
[18]Samuel Marx and Richard Corliss, ‘Thalberg’, in Film Quarterly, 26.4 (Summer, 1973) 27-28 (p. 27).
[19]John Schultheiss, ‘The Eastern Writer in Hollywood’, in Cinema Journal, 11.1 (Autumn, 1971), 13-47 (pp. 29-30).
[20]Samuel Marx and Richard Corliss, p. 28.
[21]Samuel Marx and Richard Corliss, p. 27.
[22]John Schultheiss, p. 14.
[23]John Schultheiss, p. 24.
[24]John Schultheiss, pp. 26-27.
[25]John Schultheiss, p. 18.
[26]Scott Donaldson, ‘A Death in Hollywood: F. Scott Fitzgerald Remembered’ in The Iowa Review, 26.1 (Spring, 1996), 105-112, (p. 105).
[27]Scott Donaldson, p. 106.
[28]Howard Markel, ‘F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Life was a Study in Destructive Alcoholism’, PBS Newshour, (2017) https://www.pbs.org/newshour/health/f-scott-fitzgeralds-life-study-destructive-alcoholism [accessed 15 September 2021].
[29]Anne Margaret Daniel, ‘Peaches and Scottie go to Hollywood: F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Letters to the Finneys, 1937-1938’, in The Princeton University Library Chronicle, 76.3 (Spring, 2015), 495-518, (p. 495).
[30]Alan Margolies, ‘F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Work in the Film Studios’, in The Princeton University Library Chronicle, 32.2 (Winter 1971), 81-110, (p.87).
[31]Alan Margolies, p.100.
[32]Alan Margolies, p. 91.
[33]Alan Margolies, p.81.
[34]Scott Donaldson, p. 184.
[35]John Schultheiss, pp. 42-43.
[36]Howard Sounes, (2019), p. vii.
[37]Howard Sounes, (2019), p. ix.
[38]Howard Sounes, (2019), p. x.
[39]Howard Sounes, (2019), pp. xviii-ix.
Beyond the Underground 