I
Inmyyoungerandmore
kwetsbare
vulnerableyearsmyfathergavemesomeadvicethatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindeversince.“Wheneveryoufeellikecriticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justrememberthatallthepeopleinthisworldhaven’thadtheadvantagesthatyou’vehad.”
Hedidn’tsayanymore,butwe’vealwaysbeen
ongewoon
unusuallycommunicativeinareservedway,andIunderstoodthathemeantagreatdealmorethanthat.Inconsequence,I’minclinedto
behouden
reservealljudgements,ahabitthathasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestomeandalsomademethevictimofnotafewveteranbores.The
abnormale
abnormalmindisquicktosporen
detectandattachitselftothisqualitywhenitappearsinanormalperson,andsoitcameaboutthatincollegeIwasunjustlybeschuldigd
accusedofbeingapolitician,becauseIwasprivytothesecretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.Mostoftheconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyIhavefeignedsleep,preoccupation,ora
vijandige
hostilelevitywhenIrealizedbysomeunmistakablesignthatanintieme
intimaterevelationwasquiveringonthehorizon
horizon;fortheintimaterevelationsofyoungmen,oratleastthetermsinwhichtheyexpressthem,areusuallyplagiaristicandmarredbyobvioussuppressions.
Reservingjudgementsisamatterof
oneindige
infinitehope.IamstillalittleafraidofmissingsomethingifIforgetthat,asmyfathersnobbishlysuggested,andIsnobbishlyrepeat,asenseofthe
fundamentele
fundamentaldecenciesisparcelledoutunequallyatbirth.And,afterboastingthiswayofmy
verdraagzaamheid
tolerance,Icometotheadmissionthatithasagrens
limit.Conductmaybefoundedonthehardrockorthewetmarshes,butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfoundedon.
WhenIcamebackfromtheEastlastautumnIfeltthatIwantedtheworldtobeinuniformandatasortof
morele
moralattentionforever;Iwantednomoreriotousexcursionswith
bevoorrechte
privilegedglimpsesintothehumanheart.OnlyGatsby,themanwhogiveshisnametothisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,who
vertegenwoordigde
representedeverythingforwhichIhaveanunaffectedminachting
scorn.Ifpersonalityisanunbrokenseriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewassomethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightened
gevoeligheid
sensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewererelatedtooneofthoseintricatemachinesthatregistreren
registerearthquakestenthousandmilesaway.Thisresponsivenesshadnothingtodowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichis
waardig
dignifiedunderthenameofthe“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinarygiftforhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasIhaveneverfoundinanyotherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshalleverfindagain.No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightattheend;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,what
vuil
fouldustfloatedinthewakeofhisdreamsthattijdelijk
temporarilyclosedoutmyinterestintheabortivesorrowsandshort-windedelationsofmen.Myfamilyhavebeenprominent,well-to-dopeopleinthisMiddle
West
Westerncityforthreegenerations.TheCarrawaysaresomethingofa
clan
clan,andwehaveatraditie
traditionthatwe’redescendedfromtheDukesofBuccleuch,butthewerkelijke
actualfounderofmylinewasmygrandfather’sbrother,whocamehereinfifty-one,sentasubstitutetotheCivilWar,andstartedthegroothandel
wholesalehardwarebusinessthatmyfathercarriesontoday.Ineversawthisgreat-uncle,butI’msupposedtolooklikehim—withspecial
verwijzing
referencetotheratherhard-boiledpaintingthathangsinfather’soffice.I
studeerde af
graduatedfromNewHavenin1915,justaquarterofacenturyaftermyfather,andalittlelaterInam
participatedinthatdelayedTeutonicmigratie
migrationknownastheGreatWar.Ienjoyedthecounter-raidsothoroughlythatIcameback
rusteloos
restless.Insteadofbeingthewarm
centrum
centreoftheworld,theMiddleWestnowseemedliketheraggededgeoftheuniverse—soIdecidedtogoEastandlearnthebondbusiness.EverybodyIknewwasinthebondbusiness,soIsupposeditcouldsupportonemoresingleman.
Allmyauntsandunclestalkeditoverasiftheywerechoosingaprepschoolforme,andfinallysaid,“Why—ye-es,”withverygrave,hesitantfaces.
Fatheragreedto
financieren
financemeforayear,andafterverschillende
variousdelaysIcameEast,permanent
permanently,Ithought,inthespringoftwenty-two.The
praktische
practicalthingwastofindroomsinthecity,butitwasawarmseason,andIhadjustleftacountryofwidelawnsandfriendlytrees,sowhenayoungmanattheofficesuggestedthatwetakeahousetogetherinacommutingtown,itsoundedlikeagreatidea.Hefoundthehouse,aweather-beaten
kartonnen
cardboardbungalowateightyamonth,butatthelastminutethefirmorderedhimtoWashington,andIwentouttothecountryalone.Ihadadog—atleastIhadhimforafewdaysuntilheranaway—andanold
Dodge
DodgeandaFinnishwoman,whomademybedandcookedbreakfastandmutteredFinnishwijsheid
wisdomtoherselfovertheelektrische
electricstove.Itwaslonelyforadayorsountilonemorningsomeman,morerecentlyarrivedthanI,stoppedmeontheroad.
“HowdoyougettoWestEggvillage?”
heaskedhelplessly.
Itoldhim.
AndasIwalkedonIwaslonelynolonger.
Iwasaguide,apathfinder,anoriginalsettler.
Hehadcasuallyconferredonmethefreedomofthe
buurt
neighbourhood.Andsowiththe
zon
sunshineandthegreatburstsofleavesgrowingonthetrees,justasthingsgrowinfastmovies,Ihadthatfamiliarovertuiging
convictionthatlifewasbeginningoveragainwiththesummer.Therewassomuchtoread,foronething,andsomuchfinehealthtobepulleddownoutoftheyoungbreath-givingair.
Iboughta
dozijn
dozenvolumesonbankingandcreditandinvestmentsecurities,andtheystoodonmyplank
shelfinredandgoldlikenewmoneyfromthemunt
mint,promisingtounfoldtheshiningsecretsthatonlyMidasandMorganandMaecenasknew.AndIhadthehigh
intentie
intentionofreadingmanyotherbooksbesides.Iwasrather
literair
literaryincollege—oneyearIwroteaseriesofveryplechtige
solemnandobviouseditorialsfortheYaleNews—andnowIwasgoingtobringbackallsuchthingsintomylifeandbecomeagainthatmostbeperkte
limitedofallspecialists,the“well-roundedman.”Thisisn’tjustanepigram—lifeismuchmoresuccessfullylookedatfromasinglewindow,afterall.
ItwasamatterofchancethatIshouldhaverentedahouseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesinNorthAmerica.
Itwasonthat
slanke
slenderriotousislandwhichextendsitselfdueeastofNewYork—andwherethereare,amongothernaturalcuriosities,twounusualformationsofland.Twentymilesfromthecityapairof
enorme
enormouseggs,identicalincontourandseparatedonlybyacourtesybaai
bay,jutoutintothemostdomesticatedbodyofsaltwaterintheWestelijk
Westernhemisphere,thegreatwetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.Theyarenotperfectovals—liketheeggintheColumbusstory,theyareboth
verpletterd
crushedflatatthecontactend—buttheirphysicalgelijkenis
resemblancemustbeasourceofvoortdurende
perpetualwondertothegullsthatflyoverhead.Tothewinglessamoreinteresting
fenomeen
phenomenonistheirdissimilarityineveryparticularexceptshapeandsize.IlivedatWestEgg,the—well,theless
modieuze
fashionableofthetwo,thoughthisisamostoppervlakkige
superficialtagtoexpressthebizarre
bizarreandnotalittlesinistere
sinistercontrastbetweenthem.Myhousewasattheverytipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,andsqueezedbetweentwohugeplacesthatrentedfortwelveorfifteenthousandaseason.
Theoneonmyrightwasa
kolossale
colossalaffairbyanystandard—itwasafactualimitatie
imitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,withatowerononeside,spankingnewunderathinbaard
beardofrawivy,andamarmeren
marbleswimmingpool,andmorethanfortyacresofgazon
lawnandgarden.ItwasGatsby’s
herenhuis
mansion.Or,rather,asIdidn’tknowMr.Gatsby,itwasa
herenhuis
mansioninhabitedbyagentlemanofthatname.Myownhousewasaneyesore,butitwasasmalleyesore,andithadbeenoverlooked,soIhadaviewofthewater,a
gedeeltelijk
partialviewofmyneighbour’sgazon
lawn,andtheconsolingproximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.Acrossthecourtesybaythewhitepalacesof
modieuze
fashionableEastEggglitteredalongthewater,andthehistoryofthesummerreallybeginsontheeveningIdroveovertheretohavedinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.Daisy
Daisywasmysecondcousinonceremoved,andI’dknownTomincollege.AndjustafterthewarIspenttwodayswiththeminChicago.
Herhusband,among
verschillende
variousphysicalaccomplishments,hadbeenoneofthemostpowerfulendsthateverplayedfootballatNewHaven—anationalfigureinaway,oneofthosemenwhoreachsuchanacute
acutelimitedexcellenceattwenty-onethateverythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.Hisfamilywereenormouslywealthy—evenincollegehisfreedomwithmoneywasamatterforreproach—butnowhe’dleftChicagoandcomeEastinafashionthatrathertookyourbreathaway:
forinstance,he’dbroughtdowna
reeks
stringofpoloponiesfromLakeForest.Itwashardtorealizethatamaninmyowngenerationwas
rijk
wealthyenoughtodothat.WhytheycameEastIdon’tknow.
TheyhadspentayearinFrancefornoparticularreason,andthen
dreef
driftedhereandthereunrestfullywhereverpeopleplayedpoloandwererichtogether.Thiswasa
permanente
permanentmove,saidDaisyoverthetelephone,butIdidn’tbelieveit—IhadnosightintoDaisy’sheart,butIfeltthatTomwoulddrijven
driftonforeverseeking,alittlewistfully,forthedramatische
dramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.AndsoithappenedthatonawarmwindyeveningIdroveovertoEastEggtoseetwooldfriendswhomI
nauwelijks
scarcelyknewatall.TheirhousewasevenmoreelaboratethanIexpected,acheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgianColonial
herenhuis
mansion,overlookingthebay.The
gazon
lawnstartedatthebeachandrantowardsthefrontdoorforaquarterofamile,jumpingoversundialsandbakstenen
brickwalksandburninggardens—finallywhenitreachedthehousedrijven
driftingupthesideinbrightvinesasthoughfromthemomentum
momentumofitsrun.ThefrontwasbrokenbyalineofFrenchwindows,
gloeiend
glowingnowwithreflectedgoldandwideopentothewarmwindyafternoon,andTomBuchananinridingclotheswasstandingwithhislegsapartonthefrontporch.HehadchangedsincehisNewHavenyears.
Nowhewasasturdystraw-hairedmanofthirty,witharatherhardmouthandasupercilious
manier
manner.Twoshiningarroganteyeshad
gevestigd
establisheddominanceoverhisfaceandgavehimtheappearanceofalwaysleaningaggressivelyforward.Noteventheeffeminateswankofhisridingclothescouldhidethe
enorme
enormouspowerofthatbody—heseemedtofillthoseglisteningbootsuntilhestrainedthetoplacing,andyoucouldseeagreatpackofmuscleshiftingwhenhisshouldermovedunderhisthincoat.Itwasabodycapableof
enorme
enormousleverage—acruelbody.Hisspeakingvoice,agruffhuskytenor,addedtothe
indruk
impressionoffractiousnessheconveyed.Therewasatouchofpaternal
minachting
contemptinit,eventowardpeopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHavenwhohadhatedhisguts.“Now,don’tthinkmyopiniononthesemattersisfinal,”heseemedtosay,“justbecauseI’mstrongerandmoreofamanthanyouare.”
Wewereinthesameseniorsociety,andwhilewewerenever
intiem
intimateIalwayshadtheindruk
impressionthatheapprovedofmeandwantedmetolikehimwithsomeharde
harsh,defiantwistfulnessofhisown.Wetalkedforafewminutesonthe
zonnige
sunnyporch.“I’vegotaniceplacehere,”hesaid,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.
Turningmearoundbyonearm,hemoveda
brede
broadflathandalongthefrontuitzicht
vista,includinginitssweepasunkenItaliangarden,ahalfhectare
acreofdeep,pungentroses,andasnub-nosedmotorboatthatbumpedthegetij
tideoffshore.“ItbelongedtoDemaine,theoilman.”
Heturnedmearoundagain,
beleefd
politelyandabruptly.“We’llgoinside.”
Wewalkedthroughahigh
gang
hallwayintoabrightrosy-colouredspace,fragilelyboundintothehousebyFrenchwindowsateitherend.Thewindowswereajarandgleamingwhiteagainstthefreshgrassoutsidethatseemedtogrowalittlewayintothehouse.
Abreezeblewthroughtheroom,blewcurtainsinatoneendandouttheotherlike
bleke
paleflags,twistingthemupnaar
towardthefrostedwedding-cakeoftheplafond
ceiling,andthenrippledoverthewine-colouredtapijt
rug,makingashadowonitaswinddoesonthesea.Theonlycompletelystationaryobjectintheroomwasan
enorme
enormouscouchonwhichtwoyoungwomenwerebuoyedupasthoughuponanverankerde
anchoredballoon.Theywerebothinwhite,andtheirdresseswereripplingandflutteringasiftheyhadjustbeenblownbackinafterashortflightaroundthehouse.
Imusthavestoodforafewmomentslisteningtothewhipandsnapofthecurtainsandthegroanofapictureonthewall.
ThentherewasaboomasTomBuchananshuttherearwindowsandthecaughtwinddiedoutabouttheroom,andthecurtainsandtherugsandthetwoyoungwomenballoonedslowlytothefloor.
Theyoungerofthetwowasastrangertome.
Shewas
uitgebreid
extendedfulllengthatherendofthedivan,completelymotionless,andwithherkin
chinraisedalittle,asifshewerebalancingsomethingonitwhichwasquitelikelytofall.Ifshesawmeoutofthecornerofhereyesshegaveno
hint
hintofit—indeed,Iwasalmostsurprisedintomurmuringanapologyforhavinggestoord
disturbedherbycomingin.Theothergirl,
Daisy
Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleanedlicht
slightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thenshelaughed,anabsurd,charminglittlelaugh,andIlaughedtooandcameforwardintotheroom.“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
Shelaughedagain,asifshesaidsomethingvery
geestig
witty,andheldmyhandforamoment,lookingupintomyface,promisingthattherewasnooneintheworldshesomuchwantedtosee.Thatwasawayshehad.
Shehintedinamurmurthatthe
achternaam
surnameofthebalancinggirlwasBaker
Baker.(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwasonlytomakepeopleleantowardher;
anirrelevant
kritiek
criticismthatmadeitnolesscharming.)Atanyrate,MissBaker’slipsfluttered,she
knikte
noddedatmealmostimperceptibly,andthenquicklytippedherheadbackagain—theobjectshewasbalancinghadobviouslytotteredalittleandgivenhersomethingofaschrik
fright.Againasortofapologyarosetomylips.
Almostany
tentoonstelling
exhibitionofcompleteself-sufficiencydrawsastunnedeerbetoon
tributefromme.Ilookedbackatmycousin,whobegantoaskmequestionsinherlow,thrillingvoice.
Itwasthekindofvoicethattheearfollowsupanddown,asifeachspeechisanarrangementofnotesthatwillneverbeplayedagain.
Herfacewassadandlovelywithbrightthingsinit,brighteyesandabright
gepassioneerde
passionatemouth,buttherewasanopwinding
excitementinhervoicethatmenwhohadcaredforherfounddifficulttoforget:asingingcompulsion,awhispered“Listen,”apromisethatshehaddonegay,excitingthingsjustawhilesinceandthatthereweregay,excitingthings
zweefden
hoveringinthenexthour.ItoldherhowIhadstoppedoffinChicagoforadayonmywayEast,andhowa
dozijn
dozenpeoplehadsenttheirlovethroughme.“Dotheymissme?”
shecriedecstatically.
“Thewholetownis
verlaten
desolate.Allthecarshavetheleftrearwheelpaintedblackasamourningwreath,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
irriteerde
annoyedme.“Youwill,”Ianswered
kort
shortly.“YouwillifyoustayintheEast.”
“Oh,I’llstayintheEast,don’tyouworry,”hesaid,glancingat
Daisy
Daisyandthenbackatme,asifhewerealertforsomethingmore.“I’dbeaGoddamnedfooltoliveanywhereelse.”
AtthispointMiss
Baker
Bakersaid:“Absolutely!”
withsuchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasthefirstwordshehadutteredsinceIcameintotheroom.
Blijkbaar
Evidentlyitsurprisedherasmuchasitdidme,forsheyawnedandwithaseriesofsnelle
rapid,deftmovementsstoodupintotheroom.“I’mstiff,”she
klaagde
complained,“I’vebeenlyingonthatbank
sofaforaslongasIcanremember.”“Don’tlookatme,”
Daisy
Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingtogetyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”“No,thanks,”saidMiss
Baker
Bakertothefourcocktailsjustinfromthevoorraadkast
pantry.“I’mabsolutelyintraining.”
Her
gastheer
hostlookedatherincredulously.“Youare!”
Hetookdownhisdrinkasifitwereadropinthebottomofaglass.
“Howyouevergetanythingdoneisbeyondme.”
IlookedatMiss
Baker
Baker,wonderingwhatitwasshe“gotdone.”Ienjoyedlookingather.
Shewasa
slank
slender,small-breastedgirl,withanerectkoets
carriage,whichsheaccentuatedbythrowingherbodybackwardattheshoulderslikeayoungkadet
cadet.Hergreysun-strainedeyeslookedbackatmewithpolitereciprocal
nieuwsgierigheid
curiosityoutofawan,charming,discontentedface.ItoccurredtomenowthatIhadseenher,orapictureofher,somewherebefore.
“YouliveinWestEgg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.
“Iknowsomebodythere.”
“Idon’tknowasingle—”.
“YoumustknowGatsby.”
“Gatsby?”
eiste
demandedDaisy.“WhatGatsby?”
BeforeIcould
antwoorden
replythathewasmybuurman
neighbourdinnerwasannounced;wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromtheroomasthoughheweremovingacheckertoanothersquare.
Slenderly,languidly,theirhandssetlightlyontheirhips,thetwoyoungwomenprecededusoutontoarosy-coloured
veranda
porch,opentowardthesunset,wherefourcandlesflickeredonthetableinthediminishedwind.“Whycandles?”
objected
Daisy
Daisy,frowning.Shesnappedthemoutwithherfingers.
“Intwoweeksit’llbethe
langste
longestdayintheyear.”Shelookedatusallradiantly.
“Doyoualwayswatchforthe
langste
longestdayoftheyearandthenmissit?Ialwayswatchforthe
langste
longestdayintheyearandthenmissit.”“Weoughttoplansomething,”yawnedMiss
Baker
Baker,sittingdownatthetableasifsheweregettingintobed.“Allright,”said
Daisy
Daisy.“What’llweplan?”
Sheturnedtomehelplessly:
“Whatdopeopleplan?”
BeforeIcouldanswerhereyesfastenedwithanawed
uitdrukking
expressiononherlittlefinger.“Look!”
she
klaagde
complained;“Ihurtit.”
Wealllooked—theknucklewasblackandblue.
“Youdidit,Tom,”shesaidaccusingly.
“Iknowyoudidn’tmeanto,butyoudiddoit.
That’swhatIgetformarryinga
brute
bruteofaman,agreat,big,hulkingphysicalexemplaar
specimenofa—”.“Ihatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”
“Hulking,”insisted
Daisy
Daisy.SometimessheandMiss
Baker
Bakertalkedatonce,unobtrusivelyandwithabanteringinconsequencethatwasneverquitechatter,thatwasascoolastheirwhitedressesandtheirimpersonaleyesintheafwezigheid
absenceofalldesire.Theywerehere,andtheyacceptedTomandme,makingonlyapolite
aangename
pleasantefforttoentertainortobeentertained.Theyknewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbeoverandalittlelatertheeveningtoowouldbeoverand
terloops
casuallyputaway.Itwas
scherp
sharplydifferentfromtheWest,whereaneveningwashurriedfromfase
phasetophasetowardsitsclose,inavoortdurend
continuallydisappointedanticipationorelseinsheernervousangst
dreadofthemomentitself.“Youmakemefeeluncivilized,Daisy,”I
bekende
confessedonmysecondglassofcorkybutratherimpressiveclaret.“Can’tyoutalkaboutcropsorsomething?”
Imeantnothinginparticularbythisremark,butitwastakenupinan
onverwachte
unexpectedway.“Civilization’sgoingtopieces,”brokeoutTomviolently.
“I’vegottentobeaterriblepessimistaboutthings.
HaveyoureadTheRiseoftheColouredEmpiresbythismanGoddard?”
“Why,no,”Ianswered,rathersurprisedbyhistone.
“Well,it’safinebook,andeverybodyoughttoreadit.
Theideaisifwedon’tlookoutthewhiteracewillbe—willbeutterlysubmerged.
It’sall
wetenschappelijk
scientificstuff;it’sbeenproved.”