Solid as ever! One thing I wondered about from your characterization: absolutely, the 1920s were worth our "profound disgust," but what to make of the sense of mourning present in the novel? It's certainly there in the last line ("born back ceaselessly into the past"), and also in the sense of illusory memories that you reference. The Jazz Age was abhorrent in many respects, but Fitzgerald colors it all with a grief for what was lost in it. This sense of elegy is present in his other earlier novels as well, which makes me think that it needs more attention.
Could it be that the novel mourns that profound wastefulness you mentioned? Gatsby, possessing divine hope and superhuman loyalty, can only apply them to his own fantasy. That seems to illustrate the entire deflation of the Jazz Age, where there was so much promise for peace after WWI but also a profound squandering.
Yes, elegy is in there too. And it's interesting that Fitzgerald himself engaged in the same excesses that are portrayed in "Gatsby" - wild parties, etc. So any condemnatory or elegiac tone in the novel is directed at Fitzgerald himself as well as to his milieu.
Brilliant, Kevin. You've nailed something very important about "illusory memories" and mourning in Fitzgerald. Just right. Wonderful thinking and feeling from you.
Thanks for the kind words, Ivan. I'd forgotten about this thread in the last few months, but now that I'm back in it, everyone's input has only gotten better.
I cannot attempt much commentary on this one because it has been a very long time since I have read the book. I read it once in high school and once more as an adult.
In high school, the focus was all on symbolism. What does the green light mean? What do the large eyes of Dr. Eckleburg represent? I found this line of questioning nonsense. They mean whatever the hell I want them to mean! As a result, I think the book has been spoilt for me. I do not care for it.
I never picked up on the "profound disgust" bit. To me, the book was just a sad story about a guy who had everything but the one thing he wanted. I grieved with Gatsby because, in high school, I felt much the same way about a Daisy. I found Gatsby to be a sympathetic character - more so than the narrator.
My later reading left me with no profound sensation whatsoever...well, that I can recall.
I share your admiration for this fine novel. Also, your description of the effectiveness of Fitzgerald's prose is excellent. But I think you're unfair to Nick in suggesting that he's as decadent and adrift as those he's describing. He tells us that once he returned to the Midwest after that shattering summer with Gatsby, and witnessing the Buchanans at their most deceitful, he wanted to the world to be "at a sort of moral attention."
He's discovered that we need to remain morally alert all the time, fail though we sometimes inevitably do. But he's in the novel to bear witness to that principle, to enact it. Is Ishamel complicit in Ahab's mad pursuit of the whale? No, he's our witness to Ahab's loss of moral balance. Nick plays a similar role in "Gatsby". He's not one of the story's depraved. He's our only lifeline to not becoming one of them.
Also, I've just subscribed to your newsletter. It looks as though I have some interesting reading to catch up on. Best regards.
Hm. I read that book two times in a row in preparation for this essay, taking detailed notes each time, and missed that "moral attention" quote. You're probably right; he might not be as "silently complicit" as I make him out to be. I wish he would just let Gatsby, the Buchanans, etc. know how he disapproves of their activities - he is rather a passive, non-involved member of their circle. Maybe he is simply too introverted to start such a conversation...
Thanks for the sub! I hope you like what you find. I always enjoy your own thoughtful take on films, but since I don't see as many new movies it is often quite a while before I get around to watching them myself. I don't write about film as much as I write about visual art, but I do have a piece in the works about justice, vengeance, and Reeves' "The Batman".
Wonderful exchange. One of the things I most admire about Fitzgerald's voice in Gatsby, which I can't fully explain, is its extraordinarily elevated moral tone. Nick isn't Olympian. He's down to earth and unapologetically judgmental. But underneath the sophisticated, even cynical prose is a profound wish for himself and for the rest of us to do better, to be better. Not that he thinks the likelihood is high. Boats against the current, we don't see soon enough or clearly enough what we end up realizing we should have done.
I've found this particular moral elevation in the writing of only two other 20th and 21st century American writers, both unexpected choices, I'll admit. It suffuses Toni Morrison's novel Beloved. And it shows up lots of places in, this will sound very odd, the work of Truman Capote. In some of his stories and essays, in In Cold Blood, even in the unfinished novel Answered Prayers, there's a call underneath the writing that says we should do better, we can, we're failing our best selves. I'm not sure anyone will agree with my assessment.
So glad you enjoy my movie reviews. Thanks so much for reading them. I look forward to reading more of you now that I've found you. Best wishes.
Solid as ever! One thing I wondered about from your characterization: absolutely, the 1920s were worth our "profound disgust," but what to make of the sense of mourning present in the novel? It's certainly there in the last line ("born back ceaselessly into the past"), and also in the sense of illusory memories that you reference. The Jazz Age was abhorrent in many respects, but Fitzgerald colors it all with a grief for what was lost in it. This sense of elegy is present in his other earlier novels as well, which makes me think that it needs more attention.
Could it be that the novel mourns that profound wastefulness you mentioned? Gatsby, possessing divine hope and superhuman loyalty, can only apply them to his own fantasy. That seems to illustrate the entire deflation of the Jazz Age, where there was so much promise for peace after WWI but also a profound squandering.
Yes, elegy is in there too. And it's interesting that Fitzgerald himself engaged in the same excesses that are portrayed in "Gatsby" - wild parties, etc. So any condemnatory or elegiac tone in the novel is directed at Fitzgerald himself as well as to his milieu.
Brilliant, Kevin. You've nailed something very important about "illusory memories" and mourning in Fitzgerald. Just right. Wonderful thinking and feeling from you.
Thanks for the kind words, Ivan. I'd forgotten about this thread in the last few months, but now that I'm back in it, everyone's input has only gotten better.
You're quite welcome. Yes, Ruins has been a nice discovery. I've subscribed. So maybe I'll see you again along the way? Be well.
I cannot attempt much commentary on this one because it has been a very long time since I have read the book. I read it once in high school and once more as an adult.
In high school, the focus was all on symbolism. What does the green light mean? What do the large eyes of Dr. Eckleburg represent? I found this line of questioning nonsense. They mean whatever the hell I want them to mean! As a result, I think the book has been spoilt for me. I do not care for it.
I never picked up on the "profound disgust" bit. To me, the book was just a sad story about a guy who had everything but the one thing he wanted. I grieved with Gatsby because, in high school, I felt much the same way about a Daisy. I found Gatsby to be a sympathetic character - more so than the narrator.
My later reading left me with no profound sensation whatsoever...well, that I can recall.
I share your admiration for this fine novel. Also, your description of the effectiveness of Fitzgerald's prose is excellent. But I think you're unfair to Nick in suggesting that he's as decadent and adrift as those he's describing. He tells us that once he returned to the Midwest after that shattering summer with Gatsby, and witnessing the Buchanans at their most deceitful, he wanted to the world to be "at a sort of moral attention."
He's discovered that we need to remain morally alert all the time, fail though we sometimes inevitably do. But he's in the novel to bear witness to that principle, to enact it. Is Ishamel complicit in Ahab's mad pursuit of the whale? No, he's our witness to Ahab's loss of moral balance. Nick plays a similar role in "Gatsby". He's not one of the story's depraved. He's our only lifeline to not becoming one of them.
Also, I've just subscribed to your newsletter. It looks as though I have some interesting reading to catch up on. Best regards.
Hm. I read that book two times in a row in preparation for this essay, taking detailed notes each time, and missed that "moral attention" quote. You're probably right; he might not be as "silently complicit" as I make him out to be. I wish he would just let Gatsby, the Buchanans, etc. know how he disapproves of their activities - he is rather a passive, non-involved member of their circle. Maybe he is simply too introverted to start such a conversation...
Thanks for the sub! I hope you like what you find. I always enjoy your own thoughtful take on films, but since I don't see as many new movies it is often quite a while before I get around to watching them myself. I don't write about film as much as I write about visual art, but I do have a piece in the works about justice, vengeance, and Reeves' "The Batman".
Wonderful exchange. One of the things I most admire about Fitzgerald's voice in Gatsby, which I can't fully explain, is its extraordinarily elevated moral tone. Nick isn't Olympian. He's down to earth and unapologetically judgmental. But underneath the sophisticated, even cynical prose is a profound wish for himself and for the rest of us to do better, to be better. Not that he thinks the likelihood is high. Boats against the current, we don't see soon enough or clearly enough what we end up realizing we should have done.
I've found this particular moral elevation in the writing of only two other 20th and 21st century American writers, both unexpected choices, I'll admit. It suffuses Toni Morrison's novel Beloved. And it shows up lots of places in, this will sound very odd, the work of Truman Capote. In some of his stories and essays, in In Cold Blood, even in the unfinished novel Answered Prayers, there's a call underneath the writing that says we should do better, we can, we're failing our best selves. I'm not sure anyone will agree with my assessment.
So glad you enjoy my movie reviews. Thanks so much for reading them. I look forward to reading more of you now that I've found you. Best wishes.