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Title: I'm GLAD F. Scott Fiztgerald is dead.
Review: That way he cannot write something this trite and boring again. "Slow to start" and "ambling" are such understatements when describing this thing I can barely call a book, yet alone a novel. The overflow of useless and uneeded information in this thing makes it several chapters longer than need be. In fact, if Fitzgerald had written this book properly (no extra junk I could care less about) it would have been EXACTLY two sentences long- "I'm rich." and "Oh, boo hoo." The plot line resembles an episode of Beverly Hills 90210 (namely "Let's sit around and whine about being rich. Next we'll get drunk and call each other names, fight, and run each other over!" SHUT UP ALREADY!) I can rarely can say this, but I HATE HATE HATE HATE this book! FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, STAY AWAY FROM THIS BOOK IF YOU CAN HELP IT!
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