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400 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1982
I had been completely captivated, completely enthralled by him for two months. Then on the twenty-eighth of February, 1979 – I remember that day of my humiliation well – his limousine came to take him to the airport, since he was going to California, and in the last minutes before he left, he treated me to a nasty little show of hysterics. He stamped his feet and stormed up and down the stairs, screaming the same thing over and over again: “God damn you! God damn you!” His face turned red, his beard bristled, and his eyes seemed about to pop out of their sockets.
…if you compare Gatsby and me, then who’s better, who’s more talented, who’s more needed by the world? For me, that’s the fateful question, the one I ask myself every day as I struggle and contend with my employer and rival, even if he’s a beast and a devil, albeit a charming devil, a product of contemporary civilization, a brilliant devil in a gorgeous car. Edward Limonov and Gatsby. Which one will triumph?