Book Review: F. Scott Fitzgerald on Writing, Edited by Larry W. Phillips (1985)

F. Scott Fitzgerald on Writing, edited by Larry W. Phillips, is a slim volume of 96 pages that collects Fitzgerald’s advice and thoughts on the craft that he practiced. Originally published in 1985, it was recently reprinted in November 2024. It was a book that had escaped my attention until I saw it in a bookstore this spring. I was quite surprised that there was a compilation of Fitzgerald’s writing that I was unaware of.  

The later volume F. Scott Fitzgerald on Authorship, from 1996, covers similar ground as F. Scott Fitzgerald on Writing, as you might expect from the titles. While FSF on Authorship is a more scholarly tome, including the full text of Fitzgerald’s various articles and essays on writing, FSF on Writing features brief excerpts from Fitzgerald’s writing and is meant for a more general audience. FSF on Authorship is also twice as long as FSF on Writing. Phillips selected some relevant quotes from Fitzgerald’s novels about writing. One of my favorites is from his novel The Beautiful and Damned: “Dick doesn’t necessarily see more than anyone else. He merely can put down a larger proportion of what he sees.” (p.9) This seems to me an apt quotation that applied to Fitzgerald himself as well.  

There are many fantastic quotes from F. Scott Fitzgerald on Writing. One of my favorites is this one: “It is my old contention that tiredness, boredom, exhaustion, etc., must not be conveyed by the symbols which they show in life, in fact, can’t be so conveyed in literature because boredom is essentially boring and tiredness is essentially tiring.” (p.37)   

Fitzgerald’s admiration for the Polish/British novelist Joseph Conrad comes through strongly in this volume. Fitzgerald wrote: “I’d rather have written Conrad’s Nostromo than any other novel.” (p.41) I suspect that Conrad’s novels Heart of Darkness and Lord Jim strongly influenced Fitzgerald as he wrote The Great Gatsby, particularly in his decision to make Nick Carraway a partially involved narrator, after the fashion of Conrad’s narrator Marlow.  

A quote that I found fascinating comes from a letter that Fitzgerald wrote to Andrew Turnbull in 1933. Turnbull, a future biographer of Fitzgerald, was 12 years old in 1933, and Fitzgerald was renting a house on the Turnbull family property. Fitzgerald wrote: “Nobody naturally likes a mind quicker than their own and more capable of getting its operation into words. It is practically something to conceal. The history of men’s minds has been the concealing of them, until men cry out for intelligence, and the thing has to be brought into use...most of the great things you learn in life are in periods of enforced silence.” (p.82-3)  

I find that a fascinating idea, that men conceal their intelligence until it has to be used. Fitzgerald was fond of showing off his intelligence at a young age, and he understood how that intelligence isolated him. This fits perfectly with one of my favorite quotes about Fitzgerald’s personality. One of his colleagues from the army said of Fitzgerald, “He was eager to be liked by his companions and almost vain in seeking praise. At the same time he was unwilling to conform to the various patterns of dullness and majority opinion which would insure popularity.” (The Far Side of Paradise, by Arthur Mizener, p.23) This captures Fitzgerald so well—he wanted to be liked, but he was far too intelligent to be a conformist. At some point during his life, Fitzgerald understood it was better to draw less attention to his intelligence.  

There are so many terrific nuggets in F. Scott Fitzgerald on Writing. Some of my favorites are: “All good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath.” (p.3) “Genius is the ability to put into effect what is in your mind. There’s no other definition of it.” (p.13) “You don’t write because you want to say something; you write because you’ve got something to say.” (p.52) F. Scott Fitzgerald was certainly a writer who had something important to say.  

Book Review: The Last Manager: How Earl Weaver Tricked, Tormented, and Reinvented Baseball by John W. Miller (2025)

Earl Weaver was one of the most successful managers in baseball history. Helming the Baltimore Orioles from 1968-1982, (plus a brief comeback in 1985-86) Weaver led the Orioles to 6 playoff appearances and 4 World Series, including a World Championship in 1970.  

Weaver was a feisty, combative field general, and he delighted in baiting umpires. He was also ahead of his time in embracing data to inform his in-game decision making. John W. Miller’s 2025 biography of Weaver, titled The Last Manager, is an entertaining look at Weaver’s life and career. I’d recommend it to all baseball fans.  

Miller adeptly traces Weaver’s path through baseball, as he grew up in St. Louis, and signed with his hometown Cardinals out of high school. Weaver never made the major leagues as a player, topping out at double A ball. Weaver was a second baseman, and he played well during spring training in 1952, but player/manager Eddie Stanky chose himself to be the backup infielder over Weaver. But there was more going on than just Stanky’s selfishness. Weaver’s path to the majors was blocked by the Cardinals’ All-Star second baseman, Red Schoendienst. Weaver’s only hope was to be a backup infielder. Weaver became a player/manager himself, and worked his way up the Baltimore Orioles’ chain, finally getting to the major leagues as a first-base coach in 1968. When manager Hank Bauer was fired on July 11th, Weaver found himself at the helm of a major league squad for the first time.  

Weaver had the immense good fortune to take over a team that was just two seasons removed from winning the World Series. Under Weaver’s first three full seasons as manager, the Orioles won over 100 games each season and went to three World Series. Simply put, the 1969-71 Baltimore Orioles were one of the great baseball dynasties. Those teams featured a terrific infield of third baseman Brooks Robinson, shortstop Mark Belanger, second baseman Davey Johnson, and Boog Powell at first base. The offense was led by slugger Frank Robinson, and the pitching staff was anchored by stars Jim Palmer, Dave McNally, and Mike Cuellar. The Orioles won the 1970 World Series against the Cincinnati Reds but lost in 1969 to the “Miracle Mets” and in 1971 to the Pittsburgh Pirates.  

One of my only criticisms of the book is that Miller sometimes glosses over details. About the 1969 World Series, he writes: “What happened next has been well chronicled...The Mets won the next four games and took the World Series.” (p.130) I don’t need thirty pages recounting the 1969 World Series, but I’d like a little more detail, please.  

Weaver’s view of baseball was summed up by his famous axiom that the three things you need to succeed in baseball are “pitching, defense, and the three-run homer.” That certainly worked well for the Baltimore Orioles during Weaver’s tenure. Baseball Reference ranks Ozzie Smith at the top of their Defensive WAR list. After Smith come three Orioles: Mark Belanger, Brooks Robinson, and Cal Ripken, Jr. The Orioles also had amazing starting pitching as well. It’s no coincidence that the Birds’ best string of baseball, 1966-1983, coincided exactly with the career of Jim Palmer. Palmer captured 3 Cy Young Awards, and won 20 games an incredible 8 times, on his way to a career total of 268 wins. Besides Palmer, the Orioles had a long list of starting pitchers who had great success for the team. To name just a few: Dave McNally, Mike Cuellar, Pat Dobson, Mike Torrez, Dennis Martinez, Scott McGregor, Mike Flanagan, Mike Boddicker, Steve Stone, and Storm Davis.  

Weaver was generally disdainful of traditional baseball theory, which often stressed sacrifice bunts, stolen bases, and moving the runner over. Of course, the Orioles still did these things, but under Weaver they bunted less and less often. Weaver said, “If you play for one run, that’s all you’re going to get.” Rather than scrap for one run, Weaver was content to wait for a big inning. Weaver was ahead of his time, as sabermetric statistics have been widely embraced, and they largely follow Weaver’s precepts. The emphasis now is getting walks and hitting home runs, not scratching out a run from a single, stolen base, and sacrifice fly.  

“The Earl of Baltimore,” as he was called, was also ahead of his time in looking for favorable hitter-pitcher matchups, often making frequent use of platoons and pinch-hitters. That strategy worked well during Weaver’s time, when teams didn’t carry as many relief pitchers as they do now. Weaver’s starting pitchers were also effective enough that they didn’t need to rely on very many relief pitchers. These days, with teams carrying 12 or 13 pitchers, there’s simply no room on the roster for players who are mainly used as pinch-hitters.  

As a baseball fan growing up in the 1980’s, I was too young to have memories of Weaver during his glory years. Even though he retired at the end of the 1986 season, Weaver still made two appearances on the 1987 Topps set, one of the most iconic baseball card sets of my youth. Weaver got his own manager card, and he was also pictured on the Orioles team leaders card as well. I also knew Earl Weaver from the computer game Earl Weaver Baseball, which was a favorite of mine growing up. I didn’t play entire seasons, but I loved the feature that allowed you to play with All-Star teams from the past. The Last Manager has a chapter devoted to the development of the computer game, which was very entertaining to read. 

Upon finishing The Last Manager, I thought more about Earl Weaver and his legacy. Weaver was a winning manager, but was he actually a good manager? Sure, he got the most talent possible out of his teams. But in some of the fundamental tests of managing people, I’d give Weaver a failing grade. Weaver never became close with his players. I suspect some of this came from his years running the minor league spring training camp for the Orioles. Weaver’s rationale was that you don’t become close to players, because one day you’re going to have to tell a player that he’s being sent down to the minor leagues, or traded. He had to tell many, many players this news during those spring training camps. I understand where that impulse of not getting close to anyone comes from. But part of being a good manager of people anywhere is, you have to get to know the people you are managing. Jim Palmer said of Weaver’s relationship with players “He just never got to know them.” Miller does write that Weaver learned he couldn’t yell at Eddie Murray, because Murray was extremely sensitive to criticism. I’ll give Weaver some points for that. But the volatile Weaver yelled at most of his other players. There are other ways to handle professional athletes. Bud Grant, the famous Minnesota Vikings head coach, was a contemporary of Weaver’s who didn’t yell at his players. Grant said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “These guys have been yelled at since they were kids. They don’t need me yelling at them.”  

After finishing the book, I also struggled to come up with nice things that Earl Weaver did for people. There certainly weren’t very many that are chronicled in The Last Manager. While I admire Weaver’s ability to win baseball games, and as entertaining as he was, I certainly wouldn’t want to have played for him.