It was Sunday-not a day, but rather a gap between two other days.
It always seemed strange to me that Fitzgerald was not a success in Hollywood as a screen writer. It seems like it should have been a natural fit, but the truth was he just did not cut it. Whether it was due to his lack of faith in the medium, or his personal demons (alcohol and women) he was put into an environment that he did not flourish. However, being a person who soaks up his surroundings, he could not help but write stories of Hollywood. Later he would die working on his Hollywood novel, one that could have been a masterpiece.
In Crazy Sunday, we see a bit of the Hollywood scene. The parties and the small community that made up the Hollywood system. There is also a bit of personal history that he includes, in the story as in life the protagonist embarrasses himself in front of the Hollywood elite.
This is not one of my favorites, but there is much that seems to be a prelude to The Love of the Last Tycoon.