I
Inmyyoungerandmore
sårbare
vulnerableyearsmyfathergavemesomeadvicethatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindeversince.“Wheneveryoufeellike
kritisere
criticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justrememberthatallthepeopleinthisworldhaven’thadtheadvantagesthatyou’vehad.”Hedidn’tsayanymore,butwe’vealwaysbeen
usædvanligt
unusuallycommunicativeinareservedway,andIunderstoodthathemeantagreatdealmorethanthat.In
følge
consequence,I’minclinedtoreservealljudgements,avane
habitthathasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestomeandalsomademethevictimofnotafewveteran
veteranbores.Theabnormalmindisquickto
opdage
detectandattachitselftothisqualitywhenitappearsinanormalperson,andsoitcameaboutthatincollegeIwasunjustlyanklaget
accusedofbeingapolitician,becauseIwasprivytothesecretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.Mostoftheconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyIhavefeignedsleep,preoccupation,ora
fjendtlig
hostilelevitywhenIrealizedbysomeunmistakablesignthatanintim
intimaterevelationwasquiveringonthehorisonten
horizon;fortheintimaterevelationsofyoungmen,oratleastthetermsinwhichtheyexpressthem,areusuallyplagiaristicandmarredbyobvioussuppressions.
Reservingjudgementsisamatterofinfinitehope.
IamstillalittleafraidofmissingsomethingifIforgetthat,asmyfathersnobbishlysuggested,andIsnobbishlyrepeat,asenseofthe
grundlæggende
fundamentaldecenciesisparcelledoutunequallyatbirth.And,after
prale
boastingthiswayofmytolerance
tolerance,Icometotheadmissionthatithasagrænse
limit.Conductmaybefoundedonthehardrockorthewetmarshes,butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfoundedon.
WhenIcamebackfromtheEastlast
efterår
autumnIfeltthatIwantedtheworldtobeinuniformandatasortofmoralsk
moralattentionforever;Iwantednomoreriotousexcursionswithprivilegedglimpsesintothehumanheart.
OnlyGatsby,themanwhogiveshisnametothisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,who
repræsenterede
representedeverythingforwhichIhaveanunaffectedforagt
scorn.Ifpersonalityisanunbrokenseriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewassomethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightened
følsomhed
sensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewererelatedtooneofthoseintricatemachinesthatregistrerer
registerearthquakestenthousandmilesaway.Thisresponsivenesshadnothingtodowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichisdignifiedunderthenameofthe“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinarygiftforhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasIhaveneverfoundinanyotherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshalleverfindagain.
No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightattheend;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,whatfouldust
flød
floatedinthewakeofhisdreamsthatmidlertidigt
temporarilyclosedoutmyinterestintheabortivesorrowsandshort-windedelationsofmen.Myfamilyhavebeen
fremtrædende
prominent,well-to-dopeopleinthisMiddleWesterncityforthreegenerations.TheCarrawaysaresomethingofa
klan
clan,andwehaveatradition
traditionthatwe’redescendedfromtheDukesofBuccleuch,buttheegentlige
actualfounderofmylinewasmygrandfather’sbrother,whocamehereinfifty-one,sentaerstatning
substitutetotheCivilWar,andstartedtheengros
wholesalehardwarebusinessthatmyfathercarriesontoday.Ineversawthisgreat-uncle,butI’msupposedtolooklikehim—withspecial
henvisning
referencetotheratherhard-boiledpaintingthathangsinfather’soffice.IgraduatedfromNewHavenin1915,justaquarterofacenturyaftermyfather,andalittlelaterI
deltog
participatedinthatdelayedTeutonicmigration
migrationknownastheGreatWar.Ienjoyedthecounter-raidsothoroughlythatIcameback
rastløs
restless.Insteadofbeingthewarm
centrum
centreoftheworld,theMiddleWestnowseemedliketheraggededgeoftheuniverse—soIdecidedtogoEastandlearnthebondbusiness.EverybodyIknewwasinthebondbusiness,soIsupposeditcouldsupportonemoresingleman.
Allmyauntsandunclestalkeditoverasiftheywerechoosingaprepschoolforme,andfinallysaid,“Why—ye-es,”withverygrave,hesitantfaces.
Fatheragreedto
finansiere
financemeforayear,andafterforskellige
variousdelaysIcameEast,permanent
permanently,Ithought,inthespringoftwenty-two.The
praktiske
practicalthingwastofindroomsinthecity,butitwasawarmseason,andIhadjustleftacountryofwidelawnsandfriendlytrees,sowhenayoungmanattheofficesuggestedthatwetakeahousetogetherinacommutingtown,itsoundedlikeagreatidea.Hefoundthehouse,aweather-beaten
pap
cardboardbungalowateightyamonth,butatthelastminutethefirmorderedhimtoWashington,andIwentouttothecountryalone.Ihadadog—atleastIhadhimforafewdaysuntilheranaway—andanold
Dodge
DodgeandaFinnishwoman,whomademybedandcookedbreakfastandmutteredFinnishvisdom
wisdomtoherselfovertheelektriske
electricstove.Itwaslonelyforadayorsountilonemorningsomeman,morerecentlyarrivedthanI,stoppedmeontheroad.
“HowdoyougettoWestEggvillage?”
heaskedhelplessly.
Itoldhim.
AndasIwalkedonIwaslonelynolonger.
Iwasaguide,apathfinder,anoriginalsettler.
Hehad
tilfældigt
casuallyconferredonmethefreedomofthenabolaget
neighbourhood.Andsowiththesunshineandthegreatburstsofleavesgrowingonthetrees,justasthingsgrowinfastmovies,Ihadthatfamiliar
overbevisning
convictionthatlifewasbeginningoveragainwiththesummer.Therewassomuchtoread,foronething,andsomuchfinehealthtobepulleddownoutoftheyoungbreath-givingair.
Iboughta
dusin
dozenvolumesonbankingandcreditandinvestmentsecurities,andtheystoodonmyhylde
shelfinredandgoldlikenewmoneyfromthemint,promisingtounfoldtheshiningsecretsthatonlyMidasandMorganandMaecenasknew.AndIhadthehigh
hensigt
intentionofreadingmanyotherbooksbesides.Iwasratherliteraryincollege—oneyearIwroteaseriesofvery
højtidelige
solemnandobviouseditorialsfortheYaleNews—andnowIwasgoingtobringbackallsuchthingsintomylifeandbecomeagainthatmostbegrænsede
limitedofallspecialists,the“well-roundedman.”Thisisn’tjustanepigram—lifeismuchmore
vellykket
successfullylookedatfromasinglewindow,afterall.ItwasamatterofchancethatIshouldhaverentedahouseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesinNorthAmerica.
ItwasonthatslenderriotousislandwhichextendsitselfdueeastofNewYork—andwherethereare,amongothernaturalcuriosities,twounusualformationsofland.
Twentymilesfromthecityapairof
enorme
enormouseggs,identicalincontourandseparatedonlybyahøflighed
courtesybay,jutoutintothemostdomesticatedbodyofsaltwaterintheVestlige
Westernhemisphere,thegreatwetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.Theyarenotperfectovals—liketheeggintheColumbusstory,theyareboth
knust
crushedflatatthecontactend—buttheirphysicallighed
resemblancemustbeasourceofevig
perpetualwondertothegullsthatflyoverhead.Tothewinglessamoreinteresting
fænomen
phenomenonistheirdissimilarityineveryparticularexceptshapeandsize.IlivedatWestEgg,the—well,thelessfashionableofthetwo,thoughthisisamost
overfladisk
superficialtagtoexpressthebizarre
bizarreandnotalittlesinisterkontrast
contrastbetweenthem.Myhousewasattheverytipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,and
presset
squeezedbetweentwohugeplacesthatrentedfortwelveorfifteenthousandaseason.Theoneonmyrightwasacolossalaffairbyanystandard—itwasafactual
efterligning
imitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,withatowerononeside,spankingnewunderathinskæg
beardofrawivy,andamarmor
marbleswimmingpool,andmorethanfortyacresofgræsplæne
lawnandgarden.ItwasGatsby’s
palæ
mansion.Or,rather,asIdidn’tknowMr.Gatsby,itwasa
palæ
mansioninhabitedbyagentlemanofthatname.Myownhousewasaneyesore,butitwasasmalleyesore,andithadbeen
overset
overlooked,soIhadaviewofthewater,adelvis
partialviewofmyneighbour’sgræsplæne
lawn,andtheconsolingproximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.Acrossthecourtesy
bay
baythewhitepalacesoffashionableEastEggglitteredalongthewater,andthehistoryofthesummerreallybeginsontheeveningIdroveovertheretohavedinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.Daisy
Daisywasmysecondcousinonceremoved,andI’dknownTomincollege.AndjustafterthewarIspenttwodayswiththeminChicago.
Herhusband,among
forskellige
variousphysicalaccomplishments,hadbeenoneofthemostpowerfulendsthateverplayedfootballatNewHaven—anationalfigureinaway,oneofthosemenwhoreachsuchanakut
acutelimitedexcellenceattwenty-onethateverythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.Hisfamilywereenormouslywealthy—evenincollegehisfreedomwithmoneywasamatterforreproach—butnowhe’dleftChicagoandcomeEastinafashionthatrathertookyourbreathaway:
for
eksempel
instance,he’dbroughtdownastringofpoloponiesfromLakeForest.Itwashardtorealizethatamaninmyowngenerationwaswealthyenoughtodothat.
WhytheycameEastIdon’tknow.
TheyhadspentayearinFrancefornoparticularreason,andthendriftedhereandthereunrestfullywhereverpeopleplayedpoloandwererichtogether.
Thiswasa
permanent
permanentmove,saidDaisyoverthetelephone,butIdidn’tbelieveit—IhadnosightintoDaisy’sheart,butIfeltthatTomwoulddriftonforeverseeking,alittlewistfully,forthedramatiske
dramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.Andsoithappenedthatonawarm
blæsende
windyeveningIdroveovertoEastEggtoseetwooldfriendswhomInæppe
scarcelyknewatall.TheirhousewasevenmoreelaboratethanIexpected,acheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgian
Kolonialt
Colonialmansion,overlookingthebay.Thelawnstartedatthebeachandrantowardsthefrontdoorforaquarterofamile,jumpingoversundialsand
mursten
brickwalksandburninggardens—finallywhenitreachedthehousedriftingupthesideinbrightvinesasthoughfromthemomentum
momentumofitsrun.ThefrontwasbrokenbyalineofFrenchwindows,glowingnowwith
reflekteret
reflectedgoldandwideopentothewarmblæsende
windyafternoon,andTomBuchananinridingclotheswasstandingwithhislegsapartonthefrontporch.HehadchangedsincehisNewHavenyears.
Nowhewasa
robust
sturdystraw-hairedmanofthirty,witharatherhardmouthandasuperciliousmåde
manner.Twoshiningarroganteyeshadestablisheddominanceoverhisfaceandgavehimtheappearanceofalwaysleaningaggressivelyforward.
Noteventheeffeminateswankofhisridingclothescouldhidethe
enorme
enormouspowerofthatbody—heseemedtofillthoseglisteningbootsuntilheanstrengt
strainedthetoplacing,andyoucouldseeagreatpackofmuskler
muscleshiftingwhenhisshouldermovedunderhisthincoat.Itwasabodycapableof
enorm
enormousleverage—acruelbody.Hisspeakingvoice,agruffhuskytenor,addedtotheimpressionoffractiousnessheconveyed.
Therewasatouchofpaternal
foragt
contemptinit,eventowardpeopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHavenwhohadhatedhisguts.“Now,don’tthinkmyopiniononthesemattersisfinal,”heseemedtosay,“justbecauseI’mstrongerandmoreofamanthanyouare.”
Wewereinthesameseniorsociety,andwhilewewerenever
intime
intimateIalwayshadtheindtryk
impressionthatheapprovedofmeandwantedmetolikehimwithsomehårde
harsh,defiantwistfulnessofhisown.Wetalkedforafewminutesonthe
solrige
sunnyporch.“I’vegotaniceplacehere,”hesaid,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.
Turningmearoundbyonearm,hemoveda
bred
broadflathandalongthefrontvista,includinginitssweepasunkenItaliangarden,ahalfhektar
acreofdeep,pungentroses,andasnub-nosedmotorboatthatstødte
bumpedthetideoffshore.“ItbelongedtoDemaine,theoilman.”
Heturnedmearoundagain,
høfligt
politelyandabruptly.“We’llgoinside.”
Wewalkedthroughahighhallwayintoabrightrosy-colouredspace,fragilelyboundintothehousebyFrenchwindowsateitherend.
Thewindowswereajarandgleamingwhiteagainstthefreshgrassoutsidethatseemedtogrowalittlewayintothehouse.
A
brise
breezeblewthroughtheroom,blewcurtainsinatoneendandouttheotherlikepaleflags,vride
twistingthemuptowardthefrostedwedding-cakeoftheceiling,andthenrippledoverthewine-colouredtæppe
rug,makingashadowonitaswinddoesonthesea.Theonlycompletelystationaryobjectintheroomwasan
enorm
enormouscouchonwhichtwoyoungwomenwerebuoyedupasthoughuponanforankret
anchoredballoon.Theywerebothinwhite,andtheirdresseswereripplingandflutteringasiftheyhadjustbeenblownbackinafterashortflightaroundthehouse.
Imusthavestoodforafewmomentslisteningtothewhipandsnapofthecurtainsandthe
stønnede
groanofapictureonthewall.ThentherewasaboomasTomBuchananshuttherearwindowsandthecaughtwinddiedoutabouttheroom,andthecurtainsandtherugsandthetwoyoungwomenballoonedslowlytothefloor.
Theyoungerofthetwowasastrangertome.
Shewas
udvidet
extendedfulllengthatherendofthedivan,completelymotionless,andwithherhage
chinraisedalittle,asifshewerebalancingsomethingonitwhichwasquitelikelytofall.Ifshesawmeoutofthecornerofhereyesshegaveno
antydning
hintofit—indeed,Iwasalmostsurprisedintomurmuringanundskyldning
apologyforhavingdisturbedherbycomingin.Theothergirl,
Daisy
Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleanedslightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thenshelaughed,anabsurd
absurd,charminglittlelaugh,andIlaughedtooandcameforwardintotheroom.“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
Shelaughedagain,asifshesaidsomethingverywitty,andheldmyhandforamoment,lookingupintomyface,promisingthattherewasnooneintheworldshesomuchwantedtosee.
Thatwasawayshehad.
Shehintedinamurmurthatthesurnameofthebalancinggirlwas
Baker
Baker.(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwasonlytomakepeoplelean
mod
towardher;anirrelevantcriticismthatmadeitnolesscharming.)
Atanyrate,MissBaker’slipsfluttered,she
nikkede
noddedatmealmostimperceptibly,andthenquicklytippedherheadbackagain—theobjectshewasbalancinghadobviouslytotteredalittleandgivenhersomethingofaskræk
fright.Againasortof
undskyldning
apologyarosetomylips.Almostany
udstilling
exhibitionofcompleteself-sufficiencydrawsastunnedhyldest
tributefromme.Ilookedbackatmycousin,whobegantoaskmequestionsinherlow,thrillingvoice.
Itwasthekindofvoicethattheearfollowsupanddown,asifeachspeechisanarrangementofnotesthatwillneverbeplayedagain.
Herfacewassadandlovelywithbrightthingsinit,brighteyesandabright
lidenskabelig
passionatemouth,buttherewasanbegejstring
excitementinhervoicethatmenwhohadcaredforherfounddifficulttoforget:asingingcompulsion,awhispered“Listen,”apromisethatshehaddonegay,excitingthingsjustawhilesinceandthatthereweregay,excitingthingshoveringinthenexthour.
ItoldherhowIhadstoppedoffinChicagoforadayonmywayEast,andhowa
dusin
dozenpeoplehadsenttheirlovethroughme.“Dotheymissme?”
shecriedecstatically.
“Thewholetownis
øde
desolate.Allthecarshavetheleftrearwheelpaintedblackasamourning
krans
wreath,andthere’sapersistentwailallnightalongthenorthshore.”“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.
This
irriterede
annoyedme.“Youwill,”Iansweredshortly.
“YouwillifyoustayintheEast.”
“Oh,I’llstayintheEast,don’tyouworry,”hesaid,glancingat
Daisy
Daisyandthenbackatme,asifhewerealertforsomethingmore.“I’dbeaGoddamnedfooltoliveanywhereelse.”
AtthispointMiss
Baker
Bakersaid:“Absolutely!”
withsuchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasthefirstwordshehadutteredsinceIcameintotheroom.
Åbenbart
Evidentlyitsurprisedherasmuchasitdidme,forsheyawnedandwithaseriesofrapid,deftmovementsstoodupintotheroom.“I’mstiff,”she
klagede
complained,“I’vebeenlyingonthatsofa
sofaforaslongasIcanremember.”“Don’tlookatme,”
Daisy
Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingtogetyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”“No,thanks,”saidMiss
Baker
Bakertothefourcocktailsjustinfromthepantry.“I’mabsolutelyintraining.”
Her
vært
hostlookedatherincredulously.“Youare!”
Hetookdownhisdrinkasifitwereadropinthebottomofaglass.
“Howyouevergetanythingdoneisbeyondme.”
IlookedatMiss
Baker
Baker,wonderingwhatitwasshe“gotdone.”Ienjoyedlookingather.
Shewasa
slank
slender,small-breastedgirl,withanoprejst
erectcarriage,whichsheaccentuatedbythrowingherbodybackwardattheshoulderslikeayoungkadet
cadet.Hergreysun-strainedeyeslookedbackatmewith
høflig
politereciprocalcuriosityoutofawan,charming,discontentedface.ItoccurredtomenowthatIhadseenher,orapictureofher,somewherebefore.
“YouliveinWestEgg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.
“Iknowsomebodythere.”
“Idon’tknowasingle—”.
“YoumustknowGatsby.”
“Gatsby?”
krævede
demandedDaisy.“WhatGatsby?”
BeforeIcould
svare
replythathewasmynabo
neighbourdinnerwasannounced;wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromtheroomasthoughheweremovingacheckertoanothersquare.
Slenderly,languidly,theirhandsset
let
lightlyontheirhips,thetwoyoungwomenprecededusoutontoarosy-colouredveranda
porch,opentowardthesunset,wherefourcandlesflickeredonthetableinthediminishedwind.“Whycandles?”
objected
Daisy
Daisy,frowning.Shesnappedthemoutwithherfingers.
“Intwoweeksit’llbethe
længste
longestdayintheyear.”Shelookedatusallradiantly.
“Doyoualwayswatchforthe
længste
longestdayoftheyearandthenmissit?Ialwayswatchforthe
længste
longestdayintheyearandthenmissit.”“Weoughttoplansomething,”yawnedMiss
Baker
Baker,sittingdownatthetableasifsheweregettingintobed.“Allright,”said
Daisy
Daisy.“What’llweplan?”
Sheturnedtomehelplessly:
“Whatdopeopleplan?”
BeforeIcouldanswerhereyes
fastgjort
fastenedwithanawedexpressiononherlittlefinger.“Look!”
she
klagede
complained;“Ihurtit.”
Wealllooked—theknucklewasblackandblue.
“Youdidit,Tom,”shesaidaccusingly.
“Iknowyoudidn’tmeanto,butyoudiddoit.
That’swhatIgetformarryinga
brute
bruteofaman,agreat,big,hulkingphysicaleksemplar
specimenofa—”.“Ihatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”
“Hulking,”
insisterede
insistedDaisy.SometimessheandMiss
Baker
Bakertalkedatonce,unobtrusivelyandwithabanteringinconsequencethatwasneverquitechatter,thatwasascoolastheirwhitedressesandtheirimpersonaleyesinthefravær
absenceofalldesire.Theywerehere,andtheyacceptedTomandme,makingonlya
høflig
politepleasantefforttoentertainortobeunderholde
entertained.Theyknewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbeoverandalittlelatertheeveningtoowouldbeoverandcasuallyputaway.
Itwas
skarpt
sharplydifferentfromtheWest,whereaneveningwashurriedfromfase
phasetophasetowardsitsclose,inaløbende
continuallydisappointedanticipationorelseinsheernervousfrygt
dreadofthemomentitself.“Youmakemefeeluncivilized,Daisy,”I
indrømmede
confessedonmysecondglassofcorkybutratherimpressiveclaret.“Can’tyoutalkaboutcropsorsomething?”
Imeantnothinginparticularbythis
bemærkning
remark,butitwastakenupinanuventet
unexpectedway.“Civilization’sgoingtopieces,”brokeoutTom
voldsomt
violently.“I’vegottentobeaterriblepessimistaboutthings.
HaveyoureadTheRiseoftheColouredEmpiresbythismanGoddard?”
“Why,no,”Ianswered,rathersurprisedbyhistone.
“Well,it’safinebook,andeverybodyoughttoreadit.
Theideaisifwedon’tlookoutthewhiteracewillbe—willbe
fuldstændig
utterlysubmerged.It’sallscientificstuff;
it’sbeenproved.”