I
Inmyyoungerandmore
sårbare
vulnerableyearsmyfathergavemesomeadvicethatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindeversince.“Wheneveryoufeellike
kritisere
criticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justrememberthatallthepeopleinthisworldhaven’thadtheadvantagesthatyou’vehad.”Hedidn’tsayanymore,butwe’vealwaysbeen
uvanlig
unusuallycommunicativeinareservedway,andIunderstoodthathemeantagreatdealmorethanthat.Inconsequence,I’minclinedtoreservealljudgements,a
vane
habitthathasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestomeandalsomademethevictimofnotafewveteran
veteranbores.Theabnormalmindisquickto
oppdage
detectandattachitselftothisqualitywhenitappearsinanormalperson,andsoitcameaboutthatincollegeIwasunjustlyanklaget
accusedofbeingapolitician,becauseIwasprivytothesecretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.Mostoftheconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyIhavefeignedsleep,preoccupation,ora
fiendtlig
hostilelevitywhenIrealizedbysomeunmistakablesignthatanintimateåpenbaring
revelationwasquiveringonthehorisonten
horizon;fortheintimaterevelationsofyoungmen,oratleastthetermsinwhichtheyexpressthem,areusuallyplagiaristicandmarredbyobvioussuppressions.
Reservingjudgementsisamatterof
uendelig
infinitehope.IamstillalittleafraidofmissingsomethingifIforgetthat,asmyfathersnobbishlysuggested,andIsnobbishlyrepeat,asenseofthe
grunnleggende
fundamentaldecenciesisparcelledoutunequallyatbirth.And,after
skrytt
boastingthiswayofmytoleranse
tolerance,Icometotheadmissionthatithasagrense
limit.Conductmaybefoundedonthehardrockorthewetmarshes,butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfoundedon.
WhenIcamebackfromtheEastlast
høst
autumnIfeltthatIwantedtheworldtobeinuniformandatasortofmoralsk
moralattentionforever;Iwantednomoreriotousexcursionswithprivilegedglimpsesintothehumanheart.
OnlyGatsby,themanwhogiveshisnametothisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,who
representerte
representedeverythingforwhichIhaveanunaffectedforakt
scorn.Ifpersonalityisanunbrokenseriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewassomethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightened
følsomhet
sensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewererelatedtooneofthoseintricatemachinesthatregistrerer
registerearthquakestenthousandmilesaway.Thisresponsivenesshadnothingtodowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichis
verdig
dignifiedunderthenameofthe“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinarygiftforhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasIhaveneverfoundinanyotherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshalleverfindagain.No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightattheend;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,what
stygt
fouldustfloatedinthewakeofhisdreamsthatmidlertidig
temporarilyclosedoutmyinterestintheabortivesorrowsandshort-windedelationsofmen.Myfamilyhavebeen
fremtredende
prominent,well-to-dopeopleinthisMiddleWesterncityforthreegenerations.TheCarrawaysaresomethingofa
klan
clan,andwehaveatradisjon
traditionthatwe’redescendedfromtheDukesofBuccleuch,butthefaktiske
actualfounderofmylinewasmygrandfather’sbrother,whocamehereinfifty-one,sentaerstatning
substitutetotheCivilWar,andstartedtheengros
wholesalehardwarebusinessthatmyfathercarriesontoday.Ineversawthisgreat-uncle,butI’msupposedtolooklikehim—withspecial
referanse
referencetotheratherhard-boiledpaintingthathangsinfather’soffice.IgraduatedfromNewHavenin1915,justaquarterofacenturyaftermyfather,andalittlelaterI
deltok
participatedinthatdelayedTeutonicmigrationknownastheGreatWar.Ienjoyedthecounter-raidso
grundig
thoroughlythatIcamebackrastløs
restless.Insteadofbeingthewarm
sentrum
centreoftheworld,theMiddleWestnowseemedliketheraggededgeoftheuniverse—soIdecidedtogoEastandlearnthebondbusiness.EverybodyIknewwasinthebondbusiness,soIsupposeditcouldsupportonemoresingleman.
Allmyauntsandunclestalkeditoverasiftheywerechoosingaprepschoolforme,andfinallysaid,“Why—ye-es,”withverygrave,hesitantfaces.
Fatheragreedto
finansiere
financemeforayear,andafterulike
variousdelaysIcameEast,permanent
permanently,Ithought,inthespringoftwenty-two.Thepracticalthingwastofindroomsinthecity,butitwasawarmseason,andIhadjustleftacountryofwidelawnsandfriendlytrees,sowhenayoungmanattheofficesuggestedthatwetakeahousetogetherinacommutingtown,itsoundedlikeagreatidea.
Hefoundthehouse,aweather-beaten
papp
cardboardbungalowateightyamonth,butatthelastminutethefirmorderedhimtoWashington,andIwentouttothecountryalone.Ihadadog—atleastIhadhimforafewdaysuntilheranaway—andanold
Dodge
DodgeandaFinnishwoman,whomademybedandcookedbreakfastandmutteredFinnishvisdom
wisdomtoherselfovertheelectricstove.Itwaslonelyforadayorsountilonemorningsomeman,morerecentlyarrivedthanI,stoppedmeontheroad.
“HowdoyougettoWestEggvillage?”
heaskedhelplessly.
Itoldhim.
AndasIwalkedonIwaslonelynolonger.
Iwasaguide,apathfinder,anoriginalsettler.
Hehadcasuallyconferredonmethefreedomofthe
nabolaget
neighbourhood.Andsowiththesunshineandthegreatburstsofleavesgrowingonthetrees,justasthingsgrowinfastmovies,Ihadthatfamiliarconvictionthatlifewasbeginningoveragainwiththesummer.
Therewassomuchtoread,foronething,andsomuchfinehealthtobepulleddownoutoftheyoungbreath-givingair.
Iboughta
dusin
dozenvolumesonbankingandcreditandinvestmentsecurities,andtheystoodonmyshelfinredandgoldlikenewmoneyfromthemint,promisingtounfoldtheshiningsecretsthatonlyMidasandMorganandMaecenasknew.AndIhadthehighintentionofreadingmanyotherbooksbesides.
Iwasratherliteraryincollege—oneyearIwroteaseriesofverysolemnandobviouseditorialsfortheYaleNews—andnowIwasgoingtobringbackallsuchthingsintomylifeandbecomeagainthatmostlimitedofallspecialists,the“well-roundedman.”
Thisisn’tjustanepigram—lifeismuchmore
vellykket
successfullylookedatfromasinglewindow,afterall.ItwasamatterofchancethatIshouldhaverentedahouseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesinNorthAmerica.
Itwasonthat
slanke
slenderriotousislandwhichextendsitselfdueeastofNewYork—andwherethereare,amongothernaturalcuriosities,twounusualformationsofland.Twentymilesfromthecityapairof
enorme
enormouseggs,identicalincontourandseparatedonlybyahøflighet
courtesybay,jutoutintothemostdomesticatedbodyofsaltwaterintheVestlige
Westernhemisphere,thegreatwetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.Theyarenotperfectovals—liketheeggintheColumbusstory,theyareboth
knust
crushedflatatthecontactend—buttheirphysicallikhet
resemblancemustbeasourceofperpetualwondertothegullsthatflyoverhead.Tothewinglessamoreinteresting
fenomen
phenomenonistheirdissimilarityineveryparticularexceptshapeandsize.IlivedatWestEgg,the—well,theless
fasjonable
fashionableofthetwo,thoughthisisamostoverfladisk
superficialtagtoexpressthebizarreandnotalittleuhyggelig
sinistercontrastbetweenthem.Myhousewasattheverytipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,and
presset
squeezedbetweentwohugeplacesthatrentedfortwelveorfifteenthousandaseason.Theoneonmyrightwasacolossalaffairbyanystandard—itwasafactual
imitasjon
imitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,withatowerononeside,spankingnewunderathinskjegg
beardofrawivy,andamarmor
marbleswimmingpool,andmorethanfortyacresoflawnandgarden.ItwasGatsby’smansion.
Or,rather,asIdidn’tknowMr.Gatsby,itwasamansioninhabitedbyagentlemanofthatname.
Myownhousewasaneyesore,butitwasasmalleyesore,andithadbeen
oversett
overlooked,soIhadaviewofthewater,adelvis
partialviewofmyneighbour’slawn,andtheconsolingnærhet
proximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.Acrossthe
høflighet
courtesybaythewhitepalacesofmoderne
fashionableEastEggglitteredalongthewater,andthehistoryofthesummerreallybeginsontheeveningIdroveovertheretohavedinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.Daisy
Daisywasmysecondcousinonceremoved,andI’dknownTomincollege.AndjustafterthewarIspenttwodayswiththeminChicago.
Herhusband,among
ulike
variousphysicalaccomplishments,hadbeenoneofthemostpowerfulendsthateverplayedfootballatNewHaven—anationalfigureinaway,oneofthosemenwhoreachsuchanakutt
acutelimitedexcellenceattwenty-onethateverythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.Hisfamilywereenormouslywealthy—evenincollegehisfreedomwithmoneywasamatterforreproach—butnowhe’dleftChicagoandcomeEastinafashionthatrathertookyourbreathaway:
for
eksempel
instance,he’dbroughtdownastreng
stringofpoloponiesfromLakeForest.Itwashardtorealizethatamaninmyowngenerationwas
rik
wealthyenoughtodothat.WhytheycameEastIdon’tknow.
TheyhadspentayearinFrancefornoparticularreason,andthen
drevet
driftedhereandthereunrestfullywhereverpeopleplayedpoloandwererichtogether.Thiswasa
permanent
permanentmove,saidDaisyoverthetelephone,butIdidn’tbelieveit—IhadnosightintoDaisy’sheart,butIfeltthatTomwoulddriftonforeverseeking,alittlewistfully,forthedramatiske
dramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.Andsoithappenedthatonawarm
vindfull
windyeveningIdroveovertoEastEggtoseetwooldfriendswhomIknapt
scarcelyknewatall.Theirhousewasevenmore
utførlig
elaboratethanIexpected,amunter
cheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgianColonialmansion,overlookingthebukten
bay.Thelawnstartedatthebeachandrantowardsthefrontdoorforaquarterofamile,jumpingoversundialsand
murstein
brickwalksandburninggardens—finallywhenitreachedthehousedriftingupthesideinbrightvinesasthoughfromthemomentum
momentumofitsrun.ThefrontwasbrokenbyalineofFrenchwindows,glowingnowwith
reflektert
reflectedgoldandwideopentothewarmwindyafternoon,andTomBuchananinridingclotheswasstandingwithhislegsapartonthefrontporch.HehadchangedsincehisNewHavenyears.
Nowhewasa
robust
sturdystraw-hairedmanofthirty,witharatherhardmouthandasuperciliousmåte
manner.Twoshiningarroganteyeshadestablisheddominanceoverhisfaceandgavehimtheappearanceofalwaysleaningaggressivelyforward.
Noteventheeffeminateswankofhisridingclothescouldhidethe
enorme
enormouspowerofthatbody—heseemedtofillthoseglisteningbootsuntilheanstrengt
strainedthetoplacing,andyoucouldseeagreatpackofmuskler
muscleshiftingwhenhisshouldermovedunderhisthincoat.Itwasabodycapableof
enorm
enormousleverage—acruelbody.Hisspeakingvoice,agruffhuskytenor,addedtotheimpressionoffractiousnesshe
formidlet
conveyed.Therewasatouchofpaternal
forakt
contemptinit,eventowardpeopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHavenwhohadhatedhisguts.“Now,don’tthinkmyopiniononthesemattersisfinal,”heseemedtosay,“justbecauseI’mstrongerandmoreofamanthanyouare.”
Wewereinthesameseniorsociety,andwhilewewerenever
intime
intimateIalwayshadtheinntrykk
impressionthatheapprovedofmeandwantedmetolikehimwithsomeharsh,defiantwistfulnessofhisown.Wetalkedforafewminutesonthe
solfylte
sunnyporch.“I’vegotaniceplacehere,”hesaid,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.
Turningmearoundbyonearm,hemoveda
bred
broadflathandalongthefrontvista
vista,includinginitssweepasunkenItaliangarden,ahalfhektar
acreofdeep,pungentroses,andasnub-nosedmotorboatthatbumpedthetidevannet
tideoffshore.“ItbelongedtoDemaine,theoilman.”
Heturnedmearoundagain,
høflig
politelyandabruptly.“We’llgoinside.”
Wewalkedthroughahighhallwayintoabrightrosy-colouredspace,fragilelyboundintothehousebyFrenchwindowsateitherend.
Thewindowswereajarandgleamingwhiteagainstthefreshgrassoutsidethatseemedtogrowalittlewayintothehouse.
Abreezeblewthroughtheroom,blewcurtainsinatoneendandouttheotherlikepaleflags,
vrir
twistingthemuptowardthefrostedwedding-cakeofthetaket
ceiling,andthenrippledoverthewine-colouredteppe
rug,makingashadowonitaswinddoesonthesea.Theonlycompletelystationaryobjectintheroomwasan
enorm
enormouscouchonwhichtwoyoungwomenwerebuoyedupasthoughuponanforankret
anchoredballoon.Theywerebothinwhite,andtheirdresseswereripplingandflutteringasiftheyhadjustbeenblownbackinafterashortflightaroundthehouse.
Imusthavestoodforafewmomentslisteningtothe
pisk
whipandsnapofthecurtainsandthestønn
groanofapictureonthewall.ThentherewasaboomasTomBuchananshuttherearwindowsandthecaughtwinddiedoutabouttheroom,andthecurtainsandtherugsandthetwoyoungwomenballoonedslowlytothefloor.
Theyoungerofthetwowasastrangertome.
Shewas
utvidet
extendedfulllengthatherendofthedivan,completelymotionless,andwithherhaken
chinraisedalittle,asifshewerebalancingsomethingonitwhichwasquitelikelytofall.Ifshesawmeoutofthecornerofhereyesshegaveno
antydning
hintofit—indeed,Iwasalmostsurprisedintomurmuringanunnskyldning
apologyforhavingdisturbedherbycomingin.Theothergirl,
Daisy
Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleanedlitt
slightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thenshelaughed,anabsurd
absurd,charminglittlelaugh,andIlaughedtooandcameforwardintotheroom.“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
Shelaughedagain,asifshesaidsomethingvery
vittig
witty,andheldmyhandforamoment,lookingupintomyface,promisingthattherewasnooneintheworldshesomuchwantedtosee.Thatwasawayshehad.
Shehintedinamurmurthatthesurnameofthebalancinggirlwas
Baker
Baker.(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwasonlytomakepeoplelean
mot
towardher;anirrelevantcriticismthatmadeitnolesscharming.)
Atanyrate,MissBaker’slipsfluttered,she
nikket
noddedatmealmostimperceptibly,andthenquicklytippedherheadbackagain—theobjectshewasbalancinghadobviouslytotteredalittleandgivenhersomethingofafright.Againasortof
unnskyldning
apologyarosetomylips.Almostany
utstilling
exhibitionofcompleteself-sufficiencydrawsastunnedhyllest
tributefromme.Ilookedbackatmycousin,whobegantoaskmequestionsinherlow,thrillingvoice.
Itwasthekindofvoicethattheearfollowsupanddown,asifeachspeechisan
ordning
arrangementofnotesthatwillneverbeplayedagain.Herfacewassadandlovelywithbrightthingsinit,brighteyesandabright
lidenskapelig
passionatemouth,buttherewasanspenning
excitementinhervoicethatmenwhohadcaredforherfounddifficulttoforget:asingingcompulsion,a
hvisket
whispered“Listen,”apromisethatshehaddonegay,excitingthingsjustawhilesinceandthatthereweregay,excitingthingshoveringinthenexthour.ItoldherhowIhadstoppedoffinChicagoforadayonmywayEast,andhowa
dusin
dozenpeoplehadsenttheirlovethroughme.“Dotheymissme?”
shecriedecstatically.
“Thewholetownis
øde
desolate.Allthecarshavetheleft
bakre
rearwheelpaintedblackasamourningkrans
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
irriterte
annoyedme.“Youwill,”Iansweredshortly.
“YouwillifyoustayintheEast.”
“Oh,I’llstayintheEast,don’tyouworry,”hesaid,glancingat
Daisy
Daisyandthenbackatme,asifhewerealertforsomethingmore.“I’dbeaGoddamnedfooltoliveanywhereelse.”
AtthispointMiss
Baker
Bakersaid:“Absolutely!”
withsuchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasthefirstwordshehadutteredsinceIcameintotheroom.
Evidentlyitsurprisedherasmuchasitdidme,forsheyawnedandwithaseriesof
raske
rapid,deftmovementsstoodupintotheroom.“I’mstiff,”she
klaget
complained,“I’vebeenlyingonthatsofaen
sofaforaslongasIcanremember.”“Don’tlookatme,”
Daisy
Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingtogetyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”“No,thanks,”saidMiss
Baker
Bakertothefourcocktailsjustinfromthepantry
pantry.“I’mabsolutelyintraining.”
Her
vert
hostlookedatherincredulously.“Youare!”
Hetookdownhisdrinkasifitwereadropinthebottomofaglass.
“Howyouevergetanythingdoneisbeyondme.”
IlookedatMiss
Baker
Baker,wonderingwhatitwasshe“gotdone.”Ienjoyedlookingather.
Shewasa
slank
slender,small-breastedgirl,withanoppreist
erectcarriage,whichsheaccentuatedbythrowingherbodybackwardattheshoulderslikeayoungkadett
cadet.Hergreysun-strainedeyeslookedbackatmewith
høflig
politereciprocalcuriosityoutofawan,charming,discontentedface.ItoccurredtomenowthatIhadseenher,orapictureofher,somewherebefore.
“YouliveinWestEgg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.
“Iknowsomebodythere.”
“Idon’tknowasingle—”.
“YoumustknowGatsby.”
“Gatsby?”
demanded
Daisy
Daisy.“WhatGatsby?”
BeforeIcould
svare
replythathewasmynabo
neighbourdinnerwasannounced;wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromtheroomasthoughheweremovingacheckertoanothersquare.
Slenderly,languidly,theirhandsset
lett
lightlyontheirhips,thetwoyoungwomenprecededusoutontoarosy-colouredveranda
porch,opentowardthesunset,wherefourcandlesflickeredonthetableinthediminishedwind.“Whycandles?”
objected
Daisy
Daisy,frowning.Shesnappedthemoutwithherfingers.
“Intwoweeksit’llbethe
lengste
longestdayintheyear.”Shelookedatusallradiantly.
“Doyoualwayswatchforthe
lengste
longestdayoftheyearandthenmissit?Ialwayswatchforthe
lengste
longestdayintheyearandthenmissit.”“Weoughttoplansomething,”yawnedMiss
Baker
Baker,sittingdownatthetableasifsheweregettingintobed.“Allright,”said
Daisy
Daisy.“What’llweplan?”
Sheturnedtomehelplessly:
“Whatdopeopleplan?”
BeforeIcouldanswerhereyesfastenedwithanawed
uttrykk
expressiononherlittlefinger.“Look!”
she
klaget
complained;“Ihurtit.”
Wealllooked—theknucklewasblackandblue.
“Youdidit,Tom,”shesaidaccusingly.
“Iknowyoudidn’tmeanto,butyoudiddoit.
That’swhatIgetformarryinga
brute
bruteofaman,agreat,big,hulkingphysicaleksemplar
specimenofa—”.“Ihatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”
“Hulking,”
insisterte
insistedDaisy.SometimessheandMiss
Baker
Bakertalkedatonce,unobtrusivelyandwithabanteringinconsequencethatwasneverquitechatter,thatwasascoolastheirwhitedressesandtheirimpersonaleyesinthefravær
absenceofalldesire.Theywerehere,andtheyacceptedTomandme,makingonlya
høflig
politepleasantefforttoentertainortobeentertained.Theyknewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbeoverandalittlelatertheeveningtoowouldbeoverand
tilfeldig
casuallyputaway.Itwas
skarpt
sharplydifferentfromtheWest,whereaneveningwashurriedfromfase
phasetophasetowardsitsclose,inakontinuerlig
continuallydisappointedanticipationorelseinren
sheernervousdreadofthemomentitself.“Youmakemefeeluncivilized,Daisy,”Iconfessedonmysecondglassofcorkybutratherimpressiveclaret.
“Can’tyoutalkaboutcropsorsomething?”
Imeantnothinginparticularbythisremark,butitwastakenupinan
uventet
unexpectedway.“Civilization’sgoingtopieces,”brokeoutTom
voldsomt
violently.“I’vegottentobeaterriblepessimistaboutthings.
HaveyoureadTheRiseoftheColouredEmpiresbythismanGoddard?”
“Why,no,”Ianswered,rathersurprisedbyhistone.
“Well,it’safinebook,andeverybodyoughttoreadit.
Theideaisifwedon’tlookoutthewhiteracewillbe—willbe
fullstendig
utterlysubmerged.It’sallscientificstuff;
it’sbeenproved.”