The Great Gatsby | Gradually Hardening Norwegian A2 Translation Books

The Great Gatsby | Gradually Hardening Norwegian A2 Translation Books

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I
InmyyoungerandmorevulnerableyearsmyfathergavemesomeadvicethatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindeversince.
“Wheneveryoufeellikecriticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justrememberthatallthepeopleinthisworldhaven’thadtheadvantagesthatyou’vehad.”
Hedidn’tsayanymore,butwe’vealwaysbeenunusuallycommunicativeinareservedway,andIunderstoodthathemeantagreatdealmorethanthat.
Inconsequence,I’minclinedtoreservealljudgements,ahabitthathasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestomeandalsomademethevictimofnotafewveteranbores.
Theabnormalmindis
rask
quick
todetectandattachitselftothisqualitywhenitappearsina
normal
normal
person,andsoitcameaboutthatin
college
college
Iwasunjustlyaccusedofbeingapolitician,becauseIwasprivytothesecretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.
Mostoftheconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyIhavefeignedsleep,preoccupation,orahostilelevitywhenI
innså
realized
bysomeunmistakablesignthatanintimaterevelationwasquiveringonthehorizon;
fortheintimaterevelationsofyoungmen,oratleastthetermsinwhichtheyexpressthem,are
vanligvis
usually
plagiaristicandmarredbyobvioussuppressions.
Reservingjudgementsisamatterofinfinitehope.
IamstillalittleafraidofmissingsomethingifIforgetthat,asmyfathersnobbishlysuggested,andIsnobbishlyrepeat,a
følelse
sense
ofthefundamentaldecenciesisparcelledoutunequallyatbirth.
And,afterboastingthiswayofmytolerance,Icometotheadmissionthatithasalimit.
Conductmaybefoundedonthehardrockorthewetmarshes,butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfoundedon.
WhenIcamebackfromthe
Østen
East
lastautumnIfeltthatIwantedtheworldtobeinuniformandatasortofmoral
oppmerksomhet
attention
forever;
Iwantednomoreriotousexcursionswithprivilegedglimpsesintothehumanheart.
OnlyGatsby,themanwhogiveshisnametothisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,whorepresentedeverythingforwhichIhaveanunaffectedscorn.
Ifpersonalityisanunbrokenseriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewassomethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightenedsensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewererelatedtooneofthoseintricatemachinesthatregisterearthquakesten
tusen
thousand
milesaway.
Thisresponsivenesshadnothingtodowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichisdignifiedunderthenameofthe“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinary
gave
gift
forhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasIhaveneverfoundinanyotherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshalleverfindagain.
No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightattheend;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,whatfouldustfloatedinthewakeofhisdreamsthattemporarilyclosedoutmy
interesse
interest
intheabortivesorrowsandshort-windedelationsofmen.
Myfamilyhavebeenprominent,well-to-dopeopleinthisMiddleWesterncityforthreegenerations.
TheCarrawaysaresomethingofaclan,andwehaveatraditionthatwe’redescendedfromtheDukesofBuccleuch,buttheactualfounderofmylinewasmygrandfather’sbrother,whocamehereinfifty-one,sentasubstitutetotheCivilWar,andstartedthewholesalehardwarebusinessthatmyfather
bærer
carries
ontoday.
Ineversawthisgreat-uncle,butI’msupposedtolooklikehim—withspecialreferencetothe
ganske
rather
hard-boiledpaintingthathangsinfather’soffice.
IgraduatedfromNewHavenin1915,justaquarterofacenturyaftermyfather,andalittlelaterIparticipatedinthatdelayedTeutonicmigrationknownastheGreatWar.
Ienjoyedthecounter-raidsothoroughlythatIcamebackrestless.
Insteadofbeingthe
varme
warm
centreoftheworld,theMiddleWestnow
virket
seemed
liketheraggededgeoftheuniverse—soI
bestemte
decided
togoEastandlearnthebondbusiness.
EverybodyIknewwasinthebondbusiness,soIsupposeditcouldsupportonemore
singel
single
man.
Allmyauntsandunclestalkeditoverasiftheywere
valgte
choosing
aprepschoolforme,and
slutt
finally
said,“Why—ye-es,”withverygrave,hesitantfaces.
Fatheragreedtofinancemeforayear,andaftervariousdelaysIcame
Øst
East
,permanently,Ithought,inthespringoftwenty-two.
Thepracticalthingwastofindroomsinthecity,butitwasa
varm
warm
season,andIhadjustleftacountryofwidelawnsandfriendlytrees,sowhenayoungmanattheofficesuggestedthatwetakeahousetogetherinacommutingtown,itsoundedlikeagreatidea.
Hefoundthehouse,aweather-beatencardboardbungalowateightyamonth,butatthelastminutethefirmorderedhimtoWashington,andIwentouttothecountryalone.
Ihadadog—atleastIhadhimforafewdaysuntilheranaway—andanoldDodgeandaFinnishwoman,whomademybedandcooked
frokost
breakfast
andmutteredFinnishwisdomtoherselfovertheelectricstove.
Itwaslonelyforadayorsountilonemorningsomeman,morerecentlyarrivedthanI,stoppedmeonthe
veien
road
.
“Howdoyougetto
West
West
Eggvillage?”
heaskedhelplessly.
Itoldhim.
AndasIwalkedonIwaslonelynolonger.
Iwasaguide,apathfinder,anoriginalsettler.
Hehadcasuallyconferredonmethefreedomoftheneighbourhood.
Andsowiththesunshineandthegreatburstsofleaves
vokser
growing
onthetrees,justasthings
vokser
grow
infastmovies,Ihadthatfamiliarconvictionthatlifewas
begynte
beginning
overagainwiththe
sommeren
summer
.
Therewassomuchtoread,foronething,andsomuchfinehealthtobe
trukket
pulled
downoutoftheyoungbreath-givingair.
Iboughtadozenvolumesonbankingandcreditandinvestmentsecurities,andtheystoodonmyshelfinredand
gull
gold
likenewmoneyfromthemint,promisingtounfoldtheshiningsecretsthatonlyMidasandMorganandMaecenasknew.
AndIhadthehighintentionofreadingmanyotherbooksbesides.
Iwas
ganske
rather
literaryincollege—oneyearIwroteaseriesofverysolemnandobviouseditorialsfortheYaleNews—andnowIwasgoingtobringbackallsuchthingsintomylifeandbecomeagainthatmostlimitedofallspecialists,the“well-roundedman.”
Thisisn’tjustanepigram—lifeismuchmoresuccessfullylookedatfroma
enkelt
single
window,afterall.
ItwasamatterofchancethatIshouldhaverentedahouseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesin
Nord
North
America.
Itwasonthatslenderriotous
øya
island
whichextendsitselfdue
øst
east
ofNewYork—andwherethereare,amongothernaturalcuriosities,twounusualformationsof
land
land
.
Twentymilesfromthecityapairofenormouseggs,identicalincontourandseparatedonlybyacourtesybay,jutoutintothemostdomesticatedbodyofsaltwaterintheWesternhemisphere,thegreatwetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.
Theyarenotperfectovals—liketheeggintheColumbusstory,theyarebothcrushedflatatthecontactend—buttheirphysicalresemblancemustbeasourceofperpetualwondertothegullsthat
flyr
fly
overhead.
Tothewinglessamore
interessant
interesting
phenomenonistheirdissimilarityineveryparticular
bortsett fra
except
shapeandsize.
Ilivedat
West
West
Egg,the—well,thelessfashionableofthetwo,thoughthisisamostsuperficialtagtoexpressthebizarreandnotalittlesinistercontrastbetweenthem.
Myhousewasattheverytipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,andsqueezedbetweentwo
store
huge
placesthatrentedfortwelveorfifteen
tusen
thousand
aseason.
Theoneonmyrightwasacolossalaffairbyanystandard—itwasafactualimitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,withatowerononeside,spankingnewunderathinbeardofrawivy,andamarbleswimmingpool,andmorethanfortyacresoflawnandgarden.
ItwasGatsby’smansion.
Or,
heller
rather
,asIdidn’tknowMr.Gatsby,itwasamansioninhabitedbyagentlemanofthatname.
Myownhousewasaneyesore,butitwasasmalleyesore,andithadbeenoverlooked,soIhadaviewofthewater,apartialviewofmyneighbour’slawn,andtheconsolingproximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.
AcrossthecourtesybaythewhitepalacesoffashionableEastEggglitteredalongthewater,andthehistoryofthe
sommeren
summer
reallybeginsonthe
kvelden
evening
IdroveovertheretohavedinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.
Daisywasmysecond
fetter
cousin
onceremoved,andI’dknownTomin
college
college
.
AndjustafterthewarI
tilbrakte
spent
twodayswiththeminChicago.
Herhusband,amongvariousphysicalaccomplishments,hadbeenoneofthemostpowerfulendsthateverplayedfootballatNewHaven—anational
figur
figure
inaway,oneofthosemenwho
når
reach
suchanacutelimitedexcellenceattwenty-onethateverythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.
Hisfamilywereenormouslywealthy—evenin
college
college
hisfreedomwithmoneywasamatterforreproach—butnowhe’dleftChicagoandcome
Øst
East
inafashionthat
heller
rather
tookyourbreathaway:
forinstance,he’dbroughtdownastringofpoloponiesfromLakeForest.
Itwashardto
innse
realize
thatamaninmyowngenerationwaswealthyenoughtodothat.
Whytheycame
Østover
East
Idon’tknow.
TheyhadspentayearinFrancefornoparticularreason,andthendriftedhereandthereunrestfullywhereverpeopleplayedpoloandwere
rike
rich
together.
Thiswasapermanentmove,saidDaisyoverthetelephone,butIdidn’tbelieveit—IhadnosightintoDaisy’sheart,butIfeltthatTomwoulddriftonforeverseeking,alittlewistfully,forthedramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.
Andsoithappenedthatona
varm
warm
windyeveningIdroveovertoEastEggtoseetwooldfriendswhomIscarcelyknewatall.
TheirhousewasevenmoreelaboratethanIexpected,acheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgianColonialmansion,overlookingthebay.
Thelawnstartedatthe
stranden
beach
andrantowardsthefrontdoorforaquarterofamile,jumpingoversundialsandbrickwalksandburninggardens—finallywhenit
nådde
reached
thehousedriftingupthesideinbrightvinesasthoughfromthemomentumofitsrun.
ThefrontwasbrokenbyalineofFrenchwindows,glowingnowwithreflected
gull
gold
andwideopentothe
varme
warm
windyafternoon,andTomBuchananinriding
klær
clothes
wasstandingwithhislegs
hverandre
apart
onthefrontporch.
HehadchangedsincehisNewHavenyears.
Nowhewasasturdystraw-hairedmanofthirty,witha
ganske
rather
hardmouthandasuperciliousmanner.
Twoshiningarroganteyeshadestablisheddominanceoverhisfaceandgavehimtheappearanceofalwaysleaningaggressively
fremover
forward
.
Noteventheeffeminateswankofhisriding
klær
clothes
couldhidetheenormouspowerofthatbody—he
syntes
seemed
tofillthoseglisteningbootsuntilhestrainedthetoplacing,andyoucouldseeagreatpackofmuscleshiftingwhenhisshouldermovedunderhisthincoat.
Itwasabodycapableofenormousleverage—acruelbody.
Hisspeaking
stemme
voice
,agruffhuskytenor,addedtotheimpressionoffractiousnessheconveyed.
Therewasatouchofpaternalcontemptinit,eventowardpeopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHavenwhohadhatedhisguts.
“Now,don’tthinkmyopiniononthesemattersisfinal,”he
syntes
seemed
tosay,“justbecauseI’mstrongerandmoreofamanthanyouare.”
Wewereinthesameseniorsociety,andwhilewewereneverintimateIalwayshadtheimpressionthatheapprovedofmeandwantedmetolikehimwithsomeharsh,defiantwistfulnessofhisown.
Wetalkedforafewminutesonthesunnyporch.
“I’vegotaniceplacehere,”hesaid,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.
Turningmearoundbyone
arm
arm
,hemovedabroadflathandalongthefrontvista,includinginitssweepasunkenItaliangarden,ahalfacreof
dype
deep
,pungentroses,andasnub-nosedmotorboatthatbumpedthetideoffshore.
“ItbelongedtoDemaine,theoilman.”
Heturnedmearoundagain,politelyandabruptly.
“We’llgoinside.”
Wewalkedthroughahighhallwayintoabrightrosy-colouredspace,fragilelyboundintothehousebyFrenchwindowsateitherend.
Thewindowswereajarandgleamingwhiteagainstthefreshgrassoutsidethat
syntes
seemed
togrowalittlewayintothehouse.
Abreezeblewthroughtheroom,blewcurtainsinatoneendandouttheotherlikepaleflags,twistingthemuptowardthefrostedwedding-cakeoftheceiling,andthenrippledoverthewine-colouredrug,makingashadowonitaswinddoesonthe
havet
sea
.
Theonlycompletelystationaryobjectintheroomwasanenormouscouchonwhichtwoyoungwomenwerebuoyedupasthoughuponananchoredballoon.
Theywerebothinwhite,andtheirdresseswereripplingandflutteringasiftheyhadjustbeenblownbackinaftera
kort
short
flightaroundthehouse.
Imusthavestoodforafewmomentslisteningtothewhipandsnapofthecurtainsandthegroanofa
bilde
picture
onthewall.
ThentherewasaboomasTomBuchananshuttherearwindowsandthecaughtwinddiedoutabouttheroom,andthecurtainsandtherugsandthetwoyoungwomenballoonedslowlytothe
gulvet
floor
.
Theyoungerofthetwowasastrangertome.
Shewasextendedfulllengthatherendofthedivan,completelymotionless,andwithherchinraisedalittle,asifshewerebalancingsomethingonitwhichwasquitelikelytofall.
Ifshesawmeoutofthecornerofhereyesshegavenohintofit—indeed,Iwasalmostsurprisedintomurmuringanapologyforhavingdisturbedherbycomingin.
Theothergirl,Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleanedslightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thenshe
lo
laughed
,anabsurd,charminglittle
latter
laugh
,andIlaughedtooandcameforwardintotheroom.
“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
She
lo
laughed
again,asifshesaidsomethingverywitty,andheldmyhandforamoment,lookingupintomyface,promisingthattherewasnooneintheworldshesomuchwantedtosee.
Thatwasawayshehad.
ShehintedinamurmurthatthesurnameofthebalancinggirlwasBaker.
(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwasonlytomakepeopleleantowardher;
anirrelevantcriticismthatmadeitno
mindre
less
charming.)
Atanyrate,MissBaker’slipsfluttered,shenoddedatmealmostimperceptibly,andthen
raskt
quickly
tippedherheadbackagain—theobjectshewasbalancinghad
åpenbart
obviously
totteredalittleandgivenhersomethingofafright.
Againasortofapologyarosetomylips.
Almostanyexhibitionof
fullstendig
complete
self-sufficiencydrawsastunnedtributefromme.
Ilookedbackatmy
fetter
cousin
,whobegantoaskmequestionsinher
lave
low
,thrillingvoice.
Itwasthekindofvoicethattheearfollowsupanddown,asifeachspeechisanarrangementofnotesthatwillneverbeplayedagain.
Herfacewas
trist
sad
andlovelywithbrightthingsinit,brighteyesandabrightpassionate
munn
mouth
,buttherewasanexcitementinhervoicethatmenwhohadcaredforherfound
vanskelig
difficult
toforget:
asingingcompulsion,awhispered“Listen,”apromisethatshehaddonegay,excitingthingsjustawhilesinceandthatthereweregay,excitingthingshoveringinthenexthour.
ItoldherhowIhadstoppedoffinChicagoforadayonmyway
Øst
East
,andhowadozenpeoplehadsenttheirlovethroughme.
“Dotheymissme?”
she
gråt
cried
ecstatically.
“Thewholetownisdesolate.
Allthecarshavetheleftrearwheelpaintedblackasamourningwreath,andthere’sapersistentwailallnightalongthe
nordlige
north
shore.”
“Howgorgeous!
Let’sgoback,Tom.
Tomorrow!”
Thensheaddedirrelevantly:
“Yououghttoseethebaby.”
“I’dliketo.”
“She’s
sover
asleep
.
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’llstayinthe
Øst
East
,don’tyouworry,”hesaid,glancingatDaisyandthenbackatme,asifhewerealertforsomethingmore.
“I’dbeaGoddamnedfooltoliveanywhereelse.”
AtthispointMissBakersaid:
“Absolutely!”
withsuchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasthefirstwordshehadutteredsinceIcameintotheroom.
Evidentlyitsurprisedherasmuchasitdidme,forsheyawnedandwithaseriesofrapid,deftmovementsstoodupintotheroom.
“I’mstiff,”shecomplained,“I’vebeenlyingonthatsofaforaslongasIcanremember.”
“Don’tlookatme,”Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingtogetyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”
“No,thanks,”saidMissBakertothefourcocktailsjustinfromthepantry.
“I’m
absolutt
absolutely
intraining.”
Herhostlookedatherincredulously.
“Youare!”
Hetookdownhisdrinkasifitwerea
dråpe
drop
inthebottomofa
glass
glass
.
“Howyouevergetanythingdoneisbeyondme.”
IlookedatMissBaker,
lurer
wondering
whatitwasshe“gotdone.”
Ienjoyedlookingather.
Shewasaslender,small-breastedgirl,withanerectcarriage,whichsheaccentuatedby
kaste
throwing
herbodybackwardattheshoulderslikeayoungcadet.
Hergreysun-strainedeyeslookedbackatmewithpolitereciprocalcuriosityoutofawan,charming,discontentedface.
ItoccurredtomenowthatIhadseenher,ora
bilde
picture
ofher,somewherebefore.
“Youlivein
West
West
Egg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.
“Iknowsomebodythere.”
“Idon’tknowasingle—”.
“YoumustknowGatsby.”
“Gatsby?”
demandedDaisy.
“WhatGatsby?”
BeforeIcouldreplythathewasmyneighbourdinnerwasannounced;
wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromtheroomasthoughheweremovingacheckertoanothersquare.
Slenderly,languidly,theirhandssetlightlyontheirhips,thetwoyoungwomenprecededusoutontoarosy-colouredporch,opentowardthesunset,wherefourcandlesflickeredonthe
bordet
table
inthediminishedwind.
“Whycandles?”
objectedDaisy,frowning.
Shesnappedthemoutwithherfingers.
“Intwoweeksit’llbethelongestdayintheyear.”
Shelookedatusallradiantly.
“Doyoualwayswatchforthelongestdayoftheyearandthenmissit?
Ialwayswatchforthelongestdayintheyearandthenmissit.”
“Weoughttoplansomething,”yawnedMissBaker,sittingdownatthe
bordet
table
asifsheweregettingintobed.
“Allright,”saidDaisy.
“What’llweplan?”
Sheturnedtomehelplessly:
“Whatdopeopleplan?”
BeforeIcouldanswerhereyesfastenedwithanawedexpressiononherlittlefinger.
“Look!”
shecomplained;
“Ihurtit.”
Wealllooked—theknucklewasblackand
blå
blue
.
“Youdidit,Tom,”shesaidaccusingly.
“Iknowyoudidn’tmeanto,butyoudiddoit.
That’swhatIgetformarryingabruteofaman,agreat,big,hulkingphysicalspecimenofa—”.
“Ihatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”
“Hulking,”insistedDaisy.
SometimessheandMissBakertalkedatonce,unobtrusivelyandwithabanteringinconsequencethatwasneverquitechatter,thatwasascoolastheirwhitedressesandtheirimpersonaleyesintheabsenceofalldesire.
Theywerehere,andthey
aksepterte
accepted
Tomandme,makingonlyapolitepleasantefforttoentertainortobeentertained.
Theyknewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbeoverandalittlelaterthe
kvelden
evening
toowouldbeoverandcasuallyputaway.
Itwassharplydifferentfromthe
Vesten
West
,whereaneveningwashurriedfromphasetophasetowardsitsclose,inacontinuallydisappointedanticipationorelseinsheer
nervøs
nervous
dreadofthemomentitself.
“Youmakemefeeluncivilized,Daisy,”Iconfessedonmysecond
glass
glass
ofcorkybutratherimpressiveclaret.
“Can’tyoutalkaboutcropsorsomething?”
Imeantnothinginparticularbythisremark,butitwastakenupinanunexpectedway.
“Civilization’sgoingtopieces,”brokeoutTomviolently.
“I’vegottentobea
forferdelig
terrible
pessimistaboutthings.
HaveyoureadTheRiseoftheColouredEmpiresbythismanGoddard?”
“Why,no,”Ianswered,
ganske
rather
surprisedbyhistone.
“Well,it’safinebook,andeverybodyoughttoreadit.
Theideaisifwedon’tlookoutthewhiteracewillbe—willbeutterlysubmerged.
It’sallscientificstuff;
it’sbeenproved.”