I
InmyyoungerandmorevulnerableyearsmyfathergavemesomeadvicethatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindeversince.
“Wheneveryoufeellikecriticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justrememberthatallthepeopleinthisworldhaven’thadtheadvantagesthatyou’vehad.”
Hedidn’tsayanymore,butwe’vealwaysbeen
غير عادي
unusuallycommunicativeinareservedway,andIunderstoodthathemeantagreatdealmorethanthat.Inconsequence,I’minclinedto
حجز
reservealljudgements,ahabitthathasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestomeandalsomademethevictimofnotafewveteranbores.The
طبيعي
abnormalmindisquicktoاكتشاف
detectandattachitselftothisqualitywhenitappearsinanormalperson,andsoitcameaboutthatincollegeIwasunjustlyaccusedofbeingapolitician,becauseIwasprivytothesecretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.Mostoftheconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyIhavefeignedsleep,preoccupation,orahostilelevitywhenIrealizedbysomeunmistakablesignthatanintimaterevelationwasquiveringonthe
الأفق
horizon;fortheintimaterevelationsofyoungmen,oratleastthetermsinwhichtheyexpressthem,areusuallyplagiaristicandmarredbyobvioussuppressions.
Reservingjudgementsisamatterofinfinitehope.
IamstillalittleafraidofmissingsomethingifIforgetthat,asmyfathersnobbishlysuggested,andIsnobbishlyrepeat,asenseofthe
الأساسية
fundamentaldecenciesisparcelledoutunequallyatbirth.And,afterboastingthiswayofmytolerance,Icometotheadmissionthatithasalimit.
السلوك
Conductmaybefoundedonthehardrockorthewetmarshes,butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfoundedon.WhenIcamebackfromtheEastlast
الخريف
autumnIfeltthatIwantedtheworldtobeinuniformandatasortofmoralattentionforever;Iwantednomoreriotousexcursionswith
مميزة
privilegedglimpsesintothehumanheart.OnlyGatsby,themanwhogiveshisnametothisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,whorepresentedeverythingforwhichIhaveanunaffectedscorn.
Ifpersonalityisanunbrokenseriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewassomethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightened
الحساسية
sensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewererelatedtooneofthoseالمعقدة
intricatemachinesthatregisterearthquakestenthousandmilesaway.Thisresponsivenesshadnothingtodowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichisdignifiedunderthenameofthe“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinarygiftforhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasIhaveneverfoundinanyotherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshalleverfindagain.
No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightattheend;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,whatfouldustfloatedinthewakeofhisdreamsthattemporarilyclosedoutmyinterestintheabortivesorrowsandshort-windedelationsofmen.
Myfamilyhavebeen
البارزين
prominent,well-to-dopeopleinthisMiddleالغربية
Westerncityforthreegenerations.TheCarrawaysaresomethingofaclan,andwehavea
تقليد
traditionthatwe’redescendedfromtheDukesofBuccleuch,buttheactualالمؤسس
founderofmylinewasmygrandfather’sbrother,whocamehereinfifty-one,sentasubstitutetotheCivilWar,andstartedthewholesalehardwarebusinessthatmyfathercarriesontoday.Ineversawthisgreat-uncle,butI’msupposedtolooklikehim—withspecialreferencetotheratherhard-boiledpaintingthathangsinfather’soffice.
IgraduatedfromNewHavenin1915,justaquarterofacenturyaftermyfather,andalittlelaterIparticipatedinthatdelayedTeutonic
الهجرة
migrationknownastheGreatWar.Ienjoyedthecounter-raidsothoroughlythatIcamebackrestless.
Insteadofbeingthewarmcentreoftheworld,theMiddleWestnowseemedliketheraggededgeoftheuniverse—soIdecidedtogoEastandlearnthebondbusiness.
EverybodyIknewwasinthebondbusiness,soIsupposeditcouldsupportonemoresingleman.
Allmyauntsandunclestalkeditoverasiftheywerechoosingaprepschoolforme,andfinallysaid,“Why—ye-es,”withverygrave,hesitantfaces.
Fatheragreedtofinancemeforayear,andaftervariousdelaysIcameEast,permanently,Ithought,inthespringoftwenty-two.
Thepracticalthingwastofindroomsinthecity,butitwasawarmseason,andIhadjustleftacountryofwidelawnsandfriendlytrees,sowhenayoungmanattheofficesuggestedthatwetakeahousetogetherinacommutingtown,itsoundedlikeagreatidea.
Hefoundthehouse,aweather-beaten
الورق المقوى
cardboardbungalowateightyamonth,butatthelastminutethefirmorderedhimtoWashington,andIwentouttothecountryalone.Ihadadog—atleastIhadhimforafewdaysuntilheranaway—andanold
ودودج
DodgeandaFinnishwoman,whomademybedandcookedbreakfastandmutteredFinnishwisdomtoherselfovertheelectricالموقد
stove.Itwaslonelyforadayorsountilonemorningsomeman,morerecentlyarrivedthanI,stoppedmeontheroad.
“HowdoyougettoWestEggvillage?”
heaskedhelplessly.
Itoldhim.
AndasIwalkedonIwaslonelynolonger.
Iwasaguide,apathfinder,anoriginalsettler.
Hehadcasuallyconferredonmethefreedomofthe
الحي
neighbourhood.Andsowiththe
أشعة الشمس
sunshineandthegreatburstsofleavesgrowingonthetrees,justasthingsgrowinfastmovies,Ihadthatfamiliarconvictionthatlifewasbeginningoveragainwiththesummer.Therewassomuchtoread,foronething,andsomuchfinehealthtobepulleddownoutoftheyoungbreath-givingair.
Iboughta
عشرات
dozenvolumesonbankingandcreditandinvestmentsecurities,andtheystoodonmyshelfinredandgoldlikenewmoneyfromthemint,promisingtounfoldtheshiningsecretsthatonlyMidasandMorganandMaecenasknew.AndIhadthehigh
النية
intentionofreadingmanyotherbooksbesides.Iwasratherliteraryincollege—oneyearIwroteaseriesofverysolemnandobviouseditorialsfortheYaleNews—andnowIwasgoingtobringbackallsuchthingsintomylifeandbecomeagainthatmostlimitedofallspecialists,the“well-roundedman.”
Thisisn’tjustanepigram—lifeismuchmoresuccessfullylookedatfromasinglewindow,afterall.
ItwasamatterofchancethatIshouldhaverentedahouseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesinNorthAmerica.
ItwasonthatslenderriotousislandwhichextendsitselfdueeastofNewYork—andwherethereare,amongothernaturalcuriosities,twounusualformationsofland.
Twentymilesfromthecityapairofenormouseggs,identicalincontourandseparatedonlybya
مجاملة
courtesybay,jutoutintothemostdomesticatedbodyofsaltwaterintheWesternنصف الكرة
hemisphere,thegreatwetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.Theyarenotperfectovals—liketheeggintheColumbusstory,theyarebothcrushedflatatthecontactend—buttheirphysicalresemblancemustbeasourceofperpetualwondertothegullsthatflyoverhead.
Tothewinglessamoreinteresting
الظاهرة
phenomenonistheirdissimilarityineveryparticularexceptshapeandsize.IlivedatWestEgg,the—well,thelessfashionableofthetwo,thoughthisisamost
السطحية
superficialtagtoexpressthebizarreandnotalittlesinisterالتباين
contrastbetweenthem.Myhousewasattheverytipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,andsqueezedbetweentwohugeplacesthatrentedfortwelveorfifteenthousandaseason.
Theoneonmyrightwasacolossalaffairbyanystandard—itwasafactualimitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,withatowerononeside,spankingnewunderathin
لحية
beardofrawivy,andaالرخام
marbleswimmingpool,andmorethanfortyacresofالعشب
lawnandgarden.ItwasGatsby’s
قصر
mansion.Or,rather,asIdidn’tknowMr.Gatsby,itwasamansioninhabitedbyagentlemanofthatname.
Myownhousewasaneyesore,butitwasasmalleyesore,andithadbeenoverlooked,soIhadaviewofthewater,a
جزئية
partialviewofmyneighbour’slawn,andtheconsolingproximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.Acrossthecourtesy
خليج
baythewhitepalacesoffashionableEastEggglitteredalongthewater,andthehistoryofthesummerreallybeginsontheeveningIdroveovertheretohavedinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.Daisywasmysecondcousinonceremoved,andI’dknownTomincollege.
AndjustafterthewarIspenttwodayswiththeminChicago.
Herhusband,amongvariousphysicalaccomplishments,hadbeenoneofthemostpowerfulendsthateverplayedfootballatNewHaven—anationalfigureinaway,oneofthosemenwhoreachsuchan
الحاد
acutelimitedexcellenceattwenty-onethateverythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.Hisfamilywereenormouslywealthy—evenincollegehisfreedomwithmoneywasamatterforreproach—butnowhe’dleftChicagoandcomeEastinafashionthatrathertookyourbreathaway:
forinstance,he’dbroughtdowna
سلسلة
stringofpoloponiesfromLakeForest.Itwashardtorealizethatamaninmyowngenerationwaswealthyenoughtodothat.
WhytheycameEastIdon’tknow.
TheyhadspentayearinFrancefornoparticularreason,andthendriftedhereandthereunrestfullywhereverpeopleplayedpoloandwererichtogether.
Thiswasapermanentmove,said
ديزي
Daisyoverthetelephone,butIdidn’tbelieveit—IhadnosightintoDaisy’sheart,butIfeltthatTomwoulddriftonforeverseeking,alittlewistfully,fortheالدرامية
dramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.AndsoithappenedthatonawarmwindyeveningIdroveovertoEastEggtoseetwooldfriendswhomIscarcelyknewatall.
TheirhousewasevenmoreelaboratethanIexpected,acheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgian
استعماري
Colonialmansion,overlookingthebay.The
العشب
lawnstartedatthebeachandrantowardsthefrontdoorforaquarterofamile,jumpingoversundialsandbrickwalksandburninggardens—finallywhenitreachedthehousedriftingupthesideinbrightvinesasthoughfromthemomentumofitsrun.ThefrontwasbrokenbyalineofFrenchwindows,
تتوهج
glowingnowwithreflectedgoldandwideopentothewarmwindyafternoon,andTomBuchananinridingclotheswasstandingwithhislegsapartonthefrontالشرفة
porch.HehadchangedsincehisNewHavenyears.
Nowhewasasturdystraw-hairedmanofthirty,witharatherhardmouthandasuperciliousmanner.
Twoshiningarroganteyeshadestablisheddominanceoverhisfaceandgavehimtheappearanceofalwaysleaningaggressivelyforward.
Noteventheeffeminateswankofhisridingclothescouldhidethe
الهائلة
enormouspowerofthatbody—heseemedtofillthoseglisteningbootsuntilhestrainedthetoplacing,andyoucouldseeagreatpackofالعضلات
muscleshiftingwhenhisshouldermovedunderhisthincoat.Itwasabodycapableof
هائلة
enormousleverage—acruelbody.Hisspeakingvoice,agruffhuskytenor,addedtothe
انطباع
impressionoffractiousnessheconveyed.Therewasatouchofpaternal
الازدراء
contemptinit,eventowardpeopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHavenwhohadhatedhisguts.“Now,don’tthinkmyopiniononthesemattersisfinal,”heseemedtosay,“justbecauseI’mstrongerandmoreofamanthanyouare.”
Wewereinthesameseniorsociety,andwhilewewerenever
حميمية
intimateIalwayshadtheانطباع
impressionthatheapprovedofmeandwantedmetolikehimwithsomeharsh,defiantwistfulnessofhisown.Wetalkedforafewminutesonthe
المشمسة
sunnyporch.“I’vegotaniceplacehere,”hesaid,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.
Turningmearoundbyonearm,hemovedabroadflathandalongthefrontvista,includinginitssweepasunkenItaliangarden,ahalf
فدان
acreofdeep,pungentroses,andasnub-nosedmotorboatthatbumpedtheالمد
tideoffshore.“ItbelongedtoDemaine,theoilman.”
Heturnedmearoundagain,politelyand
مفاجئ
abruptly.“We’llgoinside.”
Wewalkedthroughahighhallwayintoabrightrosy-colouredspace,fragilelyboundintothehousebyFrenchwindowsateitherend.
Thewindowswereajarandgleamingwhiteagainstthefreshgrassoutsidethatseemedtogrowalittlewayintothehouse.
Abreezeblewthroughtheroom,blewcurtainsinatoneendandouttheotherlikepaleflags,twistingthemup
نحو
towardthefrostedwedding-cakeoftheالسقف
ceiling,andthenrippledoverthewine-colouredالسجادة
rug,makingashadowonitaswinddoesonthesea.Theonlycompletelystationaryobjectintheroomwasan
ضخمة
enormouscouchonwhichtwoyoungwomenwerebuoyedupasthoughuponananchoredبالون
balloon.Theywerebothinwhite,andtheirdresseswereripplingandflutteringasiftheyhadjustbeenblownbackinafterashortflightaroundthehouse.
Imusthavestoodforafewmomentslisteningtothewhipandsnapofthecurtainsandthegroanofapictureonthewall.
ThentherewasaboomasTomBuchananshuttherearwindowsandthecaughtwinddiedoutabouttheroom,andthecurtainsandtherugsandthetwoyoungwomenballoonedslowlytothefloor.
Theyoungerofthetwowasastrangertome.
Shewasextendedfull
طول
lengthatherendofthedivan,completelymotionless,andwithherchinraisedalittle,asifshewerebalancingsomethingonitwhichwasquitelikelytofall.Ifshesawmeoutofthecornerofhereyesshegaveno
إشارة
hintofit—indeed,Iwasalmostsurprisedintomurmuringanapologyforhavingdisturbedherbycomingin.Theothergirl,Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleanedslightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thenshelaughed,an
سخيفة
absurd,charminglittlelaugh,andIlaughedtooandcameforwardintotheroom.“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
Shelaughedagain,asifshesaidsomethingverywitty,andheldmyhandforamoment,lookingupintomyface,promisingthattherewasnooneintheworldshesomuchwantedtosee.
Thatwasawayshehad.
Shehintedinamurmurthatthe
لقب
surnameofthebalancinggirlwasبيكر
Baker.(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwasonlytomakepeopleleantowardher;
an
غير ذي صلة
irrelevantcriticismthatmadeitnolesscharming.)Atanyrate,MissBaker’slipsfluttered,shenoddedatmealmostimperceptibly,andthenquicklytippedherheadbackagain—theobjectshewasbalancinghadobviouslytotteredalittleandgivenhersomethingofafright.
Againasortof
الاعتذار
apologyarosetomylips.Almostanyexhibitionofcompleteself-sufficiencydrawsastunnedtributefromme.
Ilookedbackatmycousin,whobegantoaskmequestionsinherlow,thrillingvoice.
Itwasthekindofvoicethattheearfollowsupanddown,asifeachspeechisan
ترتيب
arrangementofnotesthatwillneverbeplayedagain.Herfacewassadandlovelywithbrightthingsinit,brighteyesandabrightpassionatemouth,buttherewasan
إثارة
excitementinhervoicethatmenwhohadcaredforherfounddifficulttoforget:asingingcompulsion,awhispered“Listen,”apromisethatshehaddonegay,excitingthingsjustawhilesinceandthatthereweregay,excitingthingshoveringinthenexthour.
ItoldherhowIhadstoppedoffinChicagoforadayonmywayEast,andhowa
عشرات
dozenpeoplehadsenttheirlovethroughme.“Dotheymissme?”
shecriedecstatically.
“Thewholetownis
مهجورة
desolate.Allthecarshavetheleftrearwheelpaintedblackasamourningwreath,andthere’sa
مستمرة
persistentwailallnightalongthenorthshore.”“Howgorgeous!
Let’sgoback,Tom.
Tomorrow!”
Thensheaddedirrelevantly:
“Yououghttoseethebaby.”
“I’dliketo.”
“She’sasleep.
She’sthreeyearsold.
Haven’tyoueverseenher?”
“Never.”
“Well,yououghttoseeher.
She’s—”.
TomBuchanan,whohadbeenhoveringrestlesslyabouttheroom,stoppedandrestedhishandonmyshoulder.
“Whatyoudoing,Nick?”
“I’mabondman.”
“Whowith?”
Itoldhim.
“Neverheardofthem,”heremarkeddecisively.
Thisannoyedme.
“Youwill,”Iansweredshortly.
“YouwillifyoustayintheEast.”
“Oh,I’llstayintheEast,don’tyouworry,”hesaid,glancingatDaisyandthenbackatme,asifhewerealertforsomethingmore.
“I’dbeaGoddamnedfooltoliveanywhereelse.”
AtthispointMiss
بيكر
Bakersaid:“Absolutely!”
withsuchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasthefirstwordshehadutteredsinceIcameintotheroom.
الواضح
Evidentlyitsurprisedherasmuchasitdidme,forsheyawnedandwithaseriesofrapid,deftmovementsstoodupintotheroom.“I’mstiff,”shecomplained,“I’vebeenlyingonthat
الأريكة
sofaforaslongasIcanremember.”“Don’tlookatme,”Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingtogetyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”
“No,thanks,”saidMissBakertothefourcocktailsjustinfromthepantry.
“I’mabsolutelyintraining.”
Herhostlookedatherincredulously.
“Youare!”
Hetookdownhisdrinkasifitwereadropinthebottomofaglass.
“Howyouevergetanythingdoneisbeyondme.”
IlookedatMissBaker,wonderingwhatitwasshe“gotdone.”
Ienjoyedlookingather.
Shewasa
نحيلة
slender,small-breastedgirl,withanerectعربة
carriage,whichsheaccentuatedbythrowingherbodybackwardattheshoulderslikeayoungcadet.Hergreysun-strainedeyeslookedbackatmewithpolitereciprocalcuriosityoutofawan,charming,discontentedface.
ItoccurredtomenowthatIhadseenher,orapictureofher,somewherebefore.
“YouliveinWestEgg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.
“Iknowsomebodythere.”
“Idon’tknowasingle—”.
“YoumustknowGatsby.”
“Gatsby?”
demanded
دايزي
Daisy.“WhatGatsby?”
BeforeIcould
الرد
replythathewasmyneighbourdinnerwasannounced;wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromtheroomasthoughheweremovingacheckertoanothersquare.
Slenderly,languidly,theirhandssetlightlyontheirhips,thetwoyoungwomenprecededusoutontoarosy-coloured
الشرفة
porch,opentowardthesunset,wherefourcandlesflickeredonthetableinthediminishedwind.“Whycandles?”
objectedDaisy,frowning.
Shesnappedthemoutwithherfingers.
“Intwoweeksit’llbethe
أطول
longestdayintheyear.”Shelookedatusallradiantly.
“Doyoualwayswatchforthe
أطول
longestdayoftheyearandthenmissit?Ialwayswatchforthe
أطول
longestdayintheyearandthenmissit.”“Weoughttoplansomething,”yawnedMiss
بيكر
Baker,sittingdownatthetableasifsheweregettingintobed.“Allright,”saidDaisy.
“What’llweplan?”
Sheturnedtomehelplessly:
“Whatdopeopleplan?”
BeforeIcouldanswerhereyesfastenedwithanawed
تعبير
expressiononherlittlefinger.“Look!”
shecomplained;
“Ihurtit.”
Wealllooked—theknucklewasblackandblue.
“Youdidit,Tom,”shesaidaccusingly.
“Iknowyoudidn’tmeanto,butyoudiddoit.
That’swhatIgetformarryingabruteofaman,agreat,big,hulkingphysical
عينة
specimenofa—”.“Ihatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”
“Hulking,”insistedDaisy.
SometimessheandMiss
بيكر
Bakertalkedatonce,unobtrusivelyandwithabanteringinconsequencethatwasneverquitechatter,thatwasascoolastheirwhitedressesandtheirimpersonaleyesintheغياب
absenceofalldesire.Theywerehere,andtheyacceptedTomandme,makingonlyapolitepleasanteffortto
ترفيه
entertainortobeentertained.Theyknewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbeoverandalittlelatertheeveningtoowouldbeoverandcasuallyputaway.
ItwassharplydifferentfromtheWest,whereaneveningwashurriedfrom
مرحلة
phasetophasetowardsitsclose,inacontinuallydisappointedanticipationorelseinsheernervousdreadofthemomentitself.“Youmakemefeeluncivilized,Daisy,”Iconfessedonmysecondglassofcorkybutratherimpressiveclaret.
“Can’tyoutalkaboutcropsorsomething?”
Imeantnothinginparticularbythisremark,butitwastakenupinanunexpectedway.
“Civilization’sgoingtopieces,”brokeoutTomviolently.
“I’vegottentobeaterriblepessimistaboutthings.
HaveyoureadTheRiseoftheColouredEmpiresbythismanGoddard?”
“Why,no,”Ianswered,rathersurprisedbyhistone.
“Well,it’safinebook,andeverybodyoughttoreadit.
Theideaisifwedon’tlookoutthewhiteracewillbe—willbeutterlysubmerged.
It’sall
علمية
scientificstuff;it’sbeenproved.”