Bleak House Read-A-Long Week Three

This read-a-long is hosted by Unputdownables.

This post contains spoilers.

Week three’s reading finds the plot thickening. We are 14 chapters in and new characters are still constantly being introduced! I love the detail, but i kind of wish Chuck would get the ball rolling on the plot. Aside from a few events, most of the story has been made up of descriptions of people and their homes. I’m hoping this picks up a bit in the next section.

• I found Sir Leicester’s aversion to speaking of death rather troublesome. Of course, it isn’t a cheerful topic, nor one that people would want to discuss, but he acts as though he is better than death. In fact, Sir Leicester seems completely removed from the real world (which, given his attitudes toward his own importance, isn’t surprising).

• I was also intrigued by Chuck’s talk about Dandyism. This quote particularly caught my attention: “Who, in a mere lackadaisical want of an emotion, have agreed upon a little dandy talk about the Vulgar wanting faith in things in general; meaning, in the things that have been tried and found wanting, as though a low fellow should unaccountably lose faith in a bad shilling, after finding it out!” (p. 164). Now, I believe that this quote could be interpreted in two ways, the first “wanting” referring to wishing or to lacking. Given the context, I presume it refers to wishing, making the Vulgar (which I’m assuming means common people, though I haven’t researched it and this is again just based on context) somewhat foolish. I’m interested in everyone else’s thoughts on this! This whole section seems to be kind of stuck into the story. Is Chuck warning against having faith in things? It’s an interesting concept, and after thinking about it I realize that people do it all the time, believe in inanimate objects.

• I found the Boodle/Buffy section quite funny. Chuck’s humor is what gets me through these long, admittedly confusing passages. Love it!

• One of the things that I love most about this week’s reading is Chuck’s commentary (or Esther’s, rather) on education: “He had been eight years at a public school, and had learnt, I understood, to make Latin Verses of several sorts, in the most admirable manner. But I never heard that it had been anybody’s business to find out what his natural bent was, or where his failings lay, or to adapt any kind of knowledge to him. He had been adapted to the Verses, and had learnt the art of making them to such perfection, that if he had remained at school until he was of age, I suppose he could only have gone on making them over and over again, unless he had enlarged his education by forgetting how to do it. Still, although I had no doubt that they were very beautiful, and very improving, and very sufficient for a great many purposes of life, and always remembered all through life, I did doubt whether Richard would not have profited by some one studying him a little, instead of his studying them quite so much” (p. 171). Not only is this funny, it shows how little Richard knows of himself. Of course he has no idea what he wants to do in life, he doesn’t know his strengths or weaknesses! Given the rest of his character, though, I wonder if this lack of reflection is really the educational system’s fault or Richard’s own laziness. He seems to want to make money, but he doesn’t seem very committed to anything. He’s very… almost absent-minded? I can’t put my finger on it quite yet, but there’s something that doesn’t sit well with me about Richard. He reminds me too much of Mr. Skimpole, I think (where in the world did HE go?). I can see this being an educational issue, too.

• Also, with regard to Esther, I do like that Mr. Jarndyce finally seems to notice that she is an individual person, not just a caretaker. At the end of chapter 13 he warns her against becoming consumed in the lives of others.

Bleak House Read-A-Long Week Two

This read-a-long is hosted by Unputdownables.

This post contains spoilers.

I know this is really late, but I’m almost caught up with the reading. A short vacation and some personal issues have put a damper on my reading schedule, but I’m back! This post is taken from my comment on the discussion thread at Unputdownables. To make it simple, I’ve formatted it as a series of bullet points, as the thoughts aren’t really related.

• I thought the chapter about the Ghost’s Walk was interesting, but I think it said something of note about the class divisions. “Mrs. Rouncewell holds this opinion, because she considers that a family of such antiquity and importance has a right to a ghost. She regards a ghost as one of the privileges of the upper classes; a genteel distinction to which the common people have no claim” (p. 100). Really? A ghost is a right of the upper class? I wonder what it is about ghost stories, or ghosts themselves, during that time period that made her think this way–or if it is just her loyalty to the Dedlocks that makes her feel as though everything they have is special in some way.

• The responsibilities put on little Esther are immense! “‘You will sweep them [cobwebs] so neatly out of our sky, in the course of your housekeeping, Esther, that one of these days, we shall have to abandon the Growlery, and nail up the door’” (p. 107). Mr. Jarndyce is implying that Esther will clean up the material and emotional cobwebs of Bleak House–something that I’m not sure any one person is capable of doing, let alone timid Esther.

• The names that Esther is called made me really mad. Old Woman, Mother Hubbard, and especially Dame Durden (a spinster)? She’s only what, 20 years old? It seems like they are condemning her to a life of service to them and not her own happiness (although she would probably have us believe that her own happiness would be found in serving them). This just doesn’t seem fair that she should be relegated to spinsterhood so quickly. Has time passed that I didn’t notice?

• Esther’s reaction to Mr. Guppy’s proposal is very uncharacteristic. Esther is normally exceedingly polite, going along with whatever others say (like when Miss Flite dragged them to her apartment, or Mr. Skimpole wanted money). How could she so blatantly refuse him, without really asking any questions? “I told him that he addressed my interest, or what he supposed to be my interest, quite as unsuccessfully as he addressed my inclination; and he would now understand that I requested him, if he pleased, to go away immediately” (p. 133). Esther takes such care to worry about everyone else’s feelings throughout the story, even those of strangers, but she doesn’t seem to think of his at all! The text doesn’t consider her reason, so I can’t help but wonder if she simply isn’t interested or if she feels that she can’t marry because she is tasked with looking over Bleak House and its inhabitants. Or is she attracted to someone else (ahem, Mr. Boythorn?)? It’s amazing how little we actually know about Esther’s feelings, despite the fact that most of the story is hers.

• Is Rosa anything but shy? Chuck is a master of images, and he knows a good synonym or two. Why does he only, really, use the word “shy” to describe her? He repeats this description several times.

Bleak House Read-A-Long: Week 1

The Bleak House Read-A-Long is hosted by Unputdownables.

This post may contain spoilers.

Despite my horrific experience reading The Old Curiosity Shop, I have decided to give Chuck one more chance and read Bleak House. So far I’m happy with this decision, although the first chapter was really hard to get through. Because there are so many nuances to the story, and because we are covering a relatively longer section than we did in previous read-a-longs, I’m going to keep the plot summary to a minimum and jump right into the points that really caught my attention.

First, I had to read the appendix before getting too involved in the story because I was completely unfamiliar with the Court of Chancery. Basically, the Court of Chancery, which is the backdrop for the novel, is an inefficient legal institution that keeps cases going for years on end. This is an arm of the law that deals with “equity,” or anything that doesn’t fall under common law. Each case is handled individually and only through written materials. No juries are present and each case is determined by “conscience.” Oh my. This is dangerous. As we find out, the first Mr. Jarndyce of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce, the case at hand, killed himself while waiting for a verdict. At this point we know nothing about Jarndyce v. Jarndyce other than the fact that it has been going on for generations. I don’t know if we will ever find out the details, as Chuck seems to be using this as more of a backdrop for the story, not the premise of the story itself.

One scene that did strike me as rather interesting, and ties in with Jarndyce v. Jarndyce, is the scene where Esther, Richard, and Ada visit Miss Flite’s apartment. Miss Flite shows the children (They are in their late teens and early twenties, but they act very childlike. In fact, Esther can be compared to the feminine ideal held in that day in some regards) her birds, about 20 of them, all different kinds. Her speech regarding these birds seems to parallel and, perhaps, foreshadow the Jarndyce v. Jarndyce case:

‘I began to keep the little creatures,’ she said, ‘with an object that the wards will readily comprehend.With the intention of restoring them to liberty. When my judgment should be given. Ye-es! They die in prison, though. Their lives, poor silly things, are so short in comparison with Chancery proceedings, that, one by one, the whole collection has died over and over again. I doubt, do you know, whether one of these, though they are all young, will live to be free! Ve-ry mortifying, is it not?’ [...] ‘I can’t allow them to sing much,’ said the little old lady, ‘for (you’ll think this curious) I find my mind confused by the idea that they are singing, while I am following  the arguments in court [...] I cannot admit the air freely,’ said the little old lady; the room was close, and would have been the better for it; ‘because the cat you saw down-stairs–called Lady Jane–is greedy for their lives. She crouches on the parapet outside for hours and hours. I have discovered,’ whispering mysteriously, ‘that her natural cruelty is sharpened by a jealous fear of their regaining their liberty. In consequence of the judgment I expect being shortly given. She is sly, and full of malice. I half believe, sometimes, that she is no cat, but the wolf of the old saying. It is so very difficult to keep her from the door.’ (pp.68-69)

I’m not sure if this will come to anything, but as a crazy old woman in a Dickens novel she’s bound to have some sort of important contribution. I’m interested to see if this really foreshadows anything or if she’s just a loon.

Although I’m enjoying the book, I’m not too attached to the characters in one way or another. Truthfully, only one character has caused me to feel strongly–and he’s as frustrating as anything. Mr. Skimpole is, so far, an irresponsible, annoying man who doesn’t take care of himself and talks about himself in the third person. This is one of my BIGGEST pet peeves. I HATE when people talk about themselves in the third person. So naturally, when Mr. Skimpole did so, it sealed my opinion of him. When he quickly manipulated Esther and Richard–two orphans–into paying a debt for him, I really started to seethe. What an ass.

Despite Mr. Skimpole, I’m rather liking the story. But I think that the end notes and footnotes are as interesting, so far, as the narrative. Here are a few things that have piqued my interest:

• Chuck was a magician.
• Talk about spontaneous combustion. I was fascinated with this idea as a child and quite forgot about it until reading about it in the end notes. Here’s a link that provides some interesting information about the myths and facts surrounding spontaneous combustion: http://science.howstuffworks.com/science-vs-myth/unexplained-phenomena/shc.htm.
• Nosegays were used to cover up any unpleasant odors in court (this had to have gotten bad in the summertime without any air conditioning or deodorant).

One thing I’m enjoying immensely is the imagery. Chuck really has a knack for conjuring an image, and some of them are quite striking. Here are two of my favorites from this reading:

His throat, chin, and eyebrows were so frosted with white hairs, and so gnarled with veins and puckered skin, that he looked from his breast upward, like some old root in a fall of snow. (p. 64)

The room in which they were, communicating with that in which he stood, was only lighted by the fire. Ada sat at the piano; Richard stood beside her, bending down. Upon the wall, their shadows blended together, surrounded by strange forms, not without a ghostly motion caught from the unsteady fire, though reflecting from motionless objects. Ada touched the notes so softly, and sang so low, that the wind, sighing away to the distant hills, was as audible as the music. The mystery of the future, and the little clue afforded to it by the voice present, seemed expressed in the whole picture. (p. 84)

This post is nearly a week late, so look forward to week 2′s post tomorrow or Saturday! Hoping the story continues to be engaging and interesting, as Chuck is winning me over despite The Old Curiosity Shop.

A Moveable Feast Read-A-Long: Week 3

This read-a-long is hosted by Wallace at Unputdownables.

I wish that I could say that my enthusiasm for this book has remained intact, but it’s honestly getting pretty boring. My version is a bit different from the one that other members of the read-a-long are using, so I haven’t yet gotten to the chapter about Fitzgerald that we’ve all been looking forward to (largely due, I think, to the fact that we read The Great Gatsby last month). On the bright side, this gives me something to anticipate in next week’s reading!

Instead of getting too involved in my analysis, as there isn’t much to analyze, I’m going to leave you with a quote from page 107. Interestingly, Hemingway penned a verse that perfectly reflects my feelings about the book at this point:

I did not understand them but they did not have any mystery, and when I understood them they meant nothing to me. I was sorry about this but there was nothing I could do about it.

A Moveable Feast Read-A-Long: Week 2

This week’s reading, though it seemed to be more interesting to everyone else, was kind of flat for me. I did enjoy it, and it went by quickly enough, but it didn’t concentrate as much on Hemingway’s writing, on his process. I think that’s what I enjoyed so much about the first leg of the read-a-long. That being said, there are several interesting details to note this week.

First, I’d like to address the idea that Hemingway is a misogynist and, to a point, refute it. Yes, he certainly is a “man’s man” who is brash and straightforward, but he isn’t a man who hates or undervalues women (according to his romantic history, he may like them all too well). In the story called “A False Spring,” Hadley calls attention to the fact that Hemingway and his friends treat her with more respect than Gertrude Stein: “When you and Chink talked I was included. It wasn’t like being a wife at Miss Stein’s” (p. 54). Yes, Hadley’s character is ridiculously simple in this story (I’m tempted to say that maybe she was just… dull? That could be the devil’s advocate coming out in me, though) but I don’t think that Hemingway is ever offensive. At least I don’t take it that way. In fact, he records Hadley as saying a pretty profound line on pages 56 and 57:

Standing there I wondered how much of what we had felt on the bridge was just hunger. I asked my wife and she said, ‘I don’t know, Tatie. There are so many sorts of hunger. In the spring there are more. But that’s gone now. Memory is hunger.’

I’d like to point out that, while Hemingway does portray women in a shallow manner, they aren’t his focus. Even in his marriage, his wife doesn’t seem to be his priority. Writing, exploring, networking, drinking, these seem to be of higher importance to him. Right or wrong, at this point in the reading, I think Hemingway is less a misogynist and more a man who’s priorities with regard to women end with sex and basic companionship.

I also really like the following line, which appears on page 62:

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

This reminds me of a line from one of my favorite songs by Ima Robot, called Cool Cool Universe, which goes like this: “But no good time goes unmourned/No good heart goes untorn/Good or bad it’s all sad/And my acceptance is born.” Just for fun, here’s a link to the song. I think there’s a poignancy to the idea that even good things can carry a feeling of emptiness, and that this emptiness can affect other parts of our lives. I actually just read a book that is based on this idea, called The Underside of Joy, that some of you might find interesting if you are intrigued by this concept.

The last thing I want to note is a quote on page 81, which reads: “He was a good companion until he drank too much and, at that time, when he was lying, he was more interesting than many men telling a story truly.” This line echos a line from my favorite book of all time, A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz.

So how to begin to recount our hideous odyssey? Keep it simple, Jasper. Remember, people are satisfied– no, thrilled– by the simplification of complex events. And besides, mine’s a damn good story and it’s true. I don’t know why, but that seems to be important to people. Personally, if someone said to me, ‘I’ve got this great story to tell you, and every word is an absolute lie!’ I’d be on the edge of my seat.

The idea that lies are more interesting than truth makes me reconsider the historical accuracy with which Hemingway recorded these events. Of course, I want to think that he was as true to history as possible; however, there is no such thing as a reliable narrator when it comes to memoirs. Everyone has an opinion, and Hemingway’s memoir is chock full of them. Several of my read-a-long cohorts seem convinced that these stories are exaggerated or otherwise downright false and, given this line, I am tempted to agree with them (to a point).

I hope that next week’s reading is a bit more engaging, but this week’s pages did reveal a bit of Hemingway’s sarcastic humor. I leave you all with a quote from page 93 that made me laugh out loud, probably because I would have thought something similar:

‘Suppose once it had come like an irresistible torrent and then it left you mute and silent.’

Better than mute and noisy, I thought, and went on writing.

 

A Moveable Feast Read-A-Long: Week 1

This post contains spoilers.

To say that I have read A Moveable Feast before would be cheating. Yes, I have “read” it, but it was so long ago (8th grade, maybe? Not sure…) that I honestly remember nothing. Since first experiencing the novel I’ve not only grown personally and as a reader, I have taken a class on Hemingway. I’m excited to read this book with this new perspective and encourage anyone interested to read along! The last read-a-long I participated in, which was also hosted by Wallace at Unputdownables, was fantastic.

So, on to the story. A Moveable Feast is a memoir of Hemingway’s time spent as an expat in Paris with his first wife, Hadley. In the first 50 pages or so, we see Hemingway working on one of his most famous short stories, “Up In Michigan.” He shows the story to his new friend, Gertrude Stein, who doesn’t like it (but Hemingway doesn’t take this to heart, because Gertrude doesn’t seem to like much of anything that other writers do). Hemingway also discovers the famous book store, Shakespeare & Company, where he meets Sylvia Beach and starts borrowing books.

Above all else, we see Hemingway work. I was quite surprised to find that he rented a separate hotel room to write in, instead of working from his home. I was also impressed by his discipline. To Hemingway, writing was a steady job, one that required his attention until he was done for the day. Once done, though, he did not allow himself to think of his work until he returned to the hotel room the following morning.

The first thing that really struck me was Hemingway’s comparison of his own work to the artwork of the Impressionists. One of the most famous Hemingway quotes is this, in which he describes his method of combating writer’s block:

I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, ‘Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.’ (p. 12)

Despite parts of this quote being engraved on signs and embroidered into pillows, Hemingway doesn’t stand by this advice. In fact, he learns that there is more to writing than simply recording truth. He talks about this when discussing his visits to the Musée du Luxembourg to see the work of Cézanne, Manet, and Monet.

I was learning something from the painting of Cézanne that made writing simple true sentences far from enough to make the stories have  the dimensions that I was trying to put in them. I was learning very much from him but I was not articulate enough to explain it to anyone. Besides it was a secret. (p. 13)

Although I never made this connection before, the influence of the Impressionists on Hemingway is actually quite obvious. His sentences are simple and he never uses more words than necessary. Somehow, though, he creates the dimension he refers to in the quote above. By layering one simple sentence upon another, he is able to create the same kind of depth that Cézanne, Manet, and Monet created on canvas. Here is an example of a Cézanne painting. This is called “The Forest”:

Here’s another example, this one by Monet. It’s actually on display at our local art museum and I saw it in person–it’s gorgeous.

If you love your embroidered pillows and engraved signs that bear the wisdom of Hemingway, don’t be too upset by the undoing of his most famous piece of advice. When writing, as disciplined and scheduled as he may seem, Hemingway’s relationship with his craft seems to be constantly changing. One passage that depicts this is of particular interest, as it brings to attention the interaction of authors with beauty:

The story was writing itself and I was having a hard time keeping up with it. I ordered another rum St. James and I watched the girl whenever I looked up [...] I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

Then I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it. I was writing it now and it was not writing itself and I did not look up nor know anything about the time nor think where I was nor order any more rum St. James. (p. 6)

I was immediately struck by the change in Hemingway’s relationship with the story he is writing. At the beginning of the passage, he is holding on for dear life, trying to keep the story going. By the end, he is in full control of the story, focused completely on his task. What changed? The only content of importance notes how he feels about beauty–that writers (and, I would argue, artists as well) own beauty in the same way that they own their experiences. While I don’t think that this has a direct effect on Hemingway’s actual writing method, I do think it’s important to note. Hemingway, it would seem, felt a sense of ownership over every experience, every memory, and every observation. All of it though, his talent and his life included, “belong to this notebook and this pencil.”

Lastly, I want to comment on the chapter called, “Une Génération Perdue,” or “The Lost Generation” (having some French under my belt is certainly proving useful). Hemingway is said to be a symbol of The Lost Generation, the generation that fought in World World I only to have their illusions about life, love, and, basically, the world crumble around them. This is a generation characterized by upended moral values and the realization that love isn’t really all you need (thank God the Beatles didn’t hear about this). These themes are seen woven throughout Hemingway’s work, and I’m interested to see how they were a part of his real life.

The Great Gatsby Read-A-Long: Final Post

This post contains spoilers.

We have finished The Great Gatsby and my reread of this classic has only further solidified its place as one of my favorite books. Fitz is a master, and the finesse with which he writes shines on each and every page. Aside from breathtaking writing, the book offers a shrewd and surprisingly progressive commentary on life, society, and the culture of the Roaring Twenties.

Basically, everything falls apart in the last fifty pages of the book. Daisy can’t stand up for herself or for Gatsby, causing a major fight within the party. While speeding back to East Egg after leaving the hotel, Daisy and Gatsby hit Myrtle, who thinks they are Tom because he had been driving Gatsby’s car earlier. They don’t stop and, as it turns out, Daisy is the one driving. Tom, Nick, and Jordan, who are following them, stop and discover that Myrtle is dead. Wilson, Myrtle’s wife, natural seeks revenge and tracks down Gatsby’s car, thanks to Tom. A murder/suicide later, Gatsby’s gone. Daisy and Tom regroup and get out of town. As Nick puts it:

They were careless people, Tom and Daisy–they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made…. (p. 188).

Many of the other readers participating in the read-a-long dislike Gatsby, and I understand where they are coming from, but I still love him. There is something so romantic about his dogged attempts to win Daisy and fit into the box that he believes the world expects him to. He stands both outside and within the persona he has created, disillusioned in that he knows that his persona is a hoax, but believing in it all the same. He is a truly heartbreaking character, one who is a victim of his own ambition.

He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night (p. 189).

Gatsby is an illusion–his very character is an image that Nick has projected through his story. It is fitting, then, that Nick is the one to tell us about Gatsby’s death. Interestingly, Fitz doesn’t show his death, like he did Myrtle’s. In fact, it is never announced that Wilson kills Gatsby and then takes his own life; it is implied through the thoughts that Nick himself considers Gatsby may have had and the subsequent discovery of Wilson’s body at the scene of the crime:

I have an idea that Gatsby himself didn’t believe it [an expected phone call] would come and perhaps he no longer cared. If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamililar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor hosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about…like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees (p. 169).

The last line of the book is poignant, heartbreaking, and yet somehow full of hope. It encompasses the movement of the novel and the future of the characters. Above all else, it is a beautifully written line:

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past (p. 189).

The Great Gatsby Read-A-Long: Week 3

This week’s reading really picks up the pace, as Daisy and Gatsby meet again and his plan to win her back begins to unfold. First, we see Nick, Daisy, and Gatsby at a very uncomfortable tea, which is the first time Gatsby and Daisy see one another. After a very awkward few minutes, Gatsby proposes that they go see his house, which he has been dying to show off to Daisy. More awkwardness ensues. The next Saturday, Tom and Daisy come to Gatsby’s party. Daisy doesn’t enjoy herself, and Gatsby promptly clears the house of all revelry after the party is over, not to host any more guests except Daisy, who he claims stops by often. Gatsby and Nick then go to the Buchanan’s for lunch, which is uncomfortably hot and unpleasant and marks the first, albeit short, appearance of Daisy’s daughter. In an effort to escape the tension, Daisy suggests that they all go into the city. Once in a hotel room in New York, the tension and heat continue to mount. This week’s reading leaves off right in the middle of the outing, which is obviously headed toward disaster.

This section of the book brings to light much about Gatsby’s past (particularly his decision to change his name to Jay Gatsby when he joins up with Dan Cody, who takes him under his wing and invites him to work aboard his yacht). More importantly, it reveals Gatsby’s monomaniacal nature. He is obsessed with Daisy, with the life he didn’t get to live with her. He thought that he could win her over with his wealth, parties, and extravagance, but Daisy isn’t impressed: “She saw something awful in the very simplicity she failed to understand” (p. 114). This quote refers to Gatsby’s party, where Daisy does not enjoy herself or swoon over the festivities like the rest of the guests (if you will recall, last week we discussed the quote on page 45 that reads: “Sometimes they came and went without having met Gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission.”).

The anticipation that Gatsby feels when showing Daisy his house is nearly palpable. Nick, in his narration, comments that:

He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock (p. 97).

Basically, Gatsby has become so enamored with Daisy that his love has extended beyond her, beyond who she is. He is in love with the idea of her, with all that she represents, and this obsession has quite literally taken over his life:

There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams–not through her own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart (p. 101).

Despite the fact that it is easy to characterize Gatsby as a swindler, as a con artist who is out to catch the girl he lost, he is a much more complex character than that. Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but I feel sorry for Gatsby. He himself is disillusioned in the lifestyle that he has created, we can see that in the fact that he doesn’t partake in the revelry that he hosts. But he also believes wholeheartedly that he can use this illusion that he has created to win Daisy back. He seems to be trying to recapture something that he has lost, and that something is his life with Daisy:

‘Can’t repeat the past?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Why of course you can!’ (p. 116).

In addition to having him quite literally exclaim his designs, Fitz illustrates the moment, five years before, that he lost control over his life–the moment he began to live for Daisy rather than himself:

The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees–he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.

“His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her (p. 117)

Gatsby knew, in that moment, that to love Daisy would be to lose himself. Still, he is willing to give up “the pap of life” and the “milk of wonder” to be with this girl. For this reason, Gatsby is also a symbol of hope. Despite the fact that Daisy is married, that they have already lost contact with one another, Gatsby simply doesn’t give up on the girl that he loves.

The Great Gatsby Read-A-Long: Week 2

Post contains spoilers.

In week two’s reading, we finally meet the great Gatsby himself. After receiving an invitation to a party, Nick visits Gatsby’s home, where he meets up with Jordan. They quickly strike up a friendship (which seems to be leading to something more) and work together to help Gatsby meet up with Daisy. The one who got away, Daisy became engaged to Tom while Gatsby was fighting in the War. Before he left to join the cause, the relationship between Daisy and Gatsby seemed to have become quite serious. Now, he wants to show her how much he has accomplished in the years that they have been apart.

This week’s reading, which ends on page 90, brings up many important themes. The most glaring is the effect of alcohol. The Great Gatsby takes place during Prohibition, but the alcohol seems to be flowing as if Jesus himself were at the party. Although the drinks loosen people up and bring them together, there is a disingenuousness about it:

The bar is in full swing and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside until the air is alive with chatter and laughter and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names (p. 44)

Although the alcohol seems to permeate the very words on the page, creating a fluid, dynamic scene that depicts the waves of people cavorting in Gatsby’s garden, there is a tense dichotomy between those who do drink and those who do not. Nick illustrates the power of drinking on both himself and the rest of the party-goers when he says, “I had taken two finger bowls of champagne and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental and profound” (p. 51). However, Gatsby is not drinking. In fact, despite being the man behind the party, he isn’t involved in the revelry.

[...] no one swooned backward on Gatsby and no French bob touched Gatsby’s shoulder and no singing quartets were formed with Gatsby’s head for one link (p. 55)

The guests seem to be fooled by Gatsby’s show. Under the influence of alcohol, they lap up the luxury that he so generously shares in an effort to attract the attention of the one woman who never attends his parties: Daisy. As a woman who doesn’t drink, Daisy isn’t fooled by Gatsby’s elaborate performance. It’s sad, really, that the woman for whom he performs is the one woman who seems to take no notice. Not that she doesn’t care about Gatsby, because she clearly indicates that she does by pressing Jordan for more details about the Gatsby living next door to Nick, her awareness of him is different. Although Jordan loves his parties, she also sees through him: “‘He’s just a man named Gatsby’” (p. 53).

Jordan is an increasingly interesting character. Although she sees Gatsby as just a man, she sees him more clearly than anyone else. He is, after all, just a man. But Nick understands her. She is a dishonest woman who “instinctively avoided clever shrewd men” (p. 63). Although this seems to be a proper characterization of her, why, then, does she gravitate toward Nick? He seems to be a pretty shrewd guy, right? I mean, he sees this much in Jordan. The answer comes on page 63, where she says “‘I hate careless people. That’s why I like you.’” Nick is anything but careless, and it seems as though she feels she can trust him not to judge her for her lies. Maybe this will play out a bit more as the story continues to unfold.

The other theme that struck me is the juxtaposition of, for lack of a better description, beauty and ugliness. We see this in Gatsby’s character and in the very descriptions of the city.

The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.

“A dead man passed us in a hearse heaped with blooms, followed by two carriages with drawn blinds and by more cheerful carriages for friends (p. 73)”

“He was balancing himself on the dashboard of his car with that resourcefulness of movement that is so peculiarly American [...] This quality was continually breaking through his punctilious manner in the shape of restlessness (p. 68)

This section presents many different ideas, and I’m looking forward to the conversation surrounding it. I think that, at the heart of it all, lies an emptiness that pervades society. The people coming to Gatsby’s parties don’t know him, they are just out looking for a good time. Even if they made the effort to get to know him, they may not see what really lies beneath the surface of his elaborate performance: “Sometimes they came and went without having met Gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission” (p. 45).

It is no secret that Fitz is a master at conjuring an image. I leave you with my favorite image thus far, which describes the scene at the first party Nick attends:

The groups change more swiftly, swell with new arrivals, dissolve and form in the same breath–already there are wanderers, confident girls who weave here and there among the stouter and more stable, become for a sharp, joyous moment the center of a group and then excited with triumph glide on through the sea-change of faces and voices and color under the constantly changing light (p. 45)

The Great Gatsby Read-A-Long: Starting Post

The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite books but I haven’t read it since 9th grade. So, when I saw Wallace’s read-a-long at The Unputdownables, I decided to go ahead and join. Regardless of whether you have read the book or not, this is a great opportunity to dive into a classic and enjoy the discussion that it generates! To join, visit the link above.

SCHEDULE:

Beginning Thursday, December 29th and ending Friday, January 27th.

READING SCHEDULE:

Week #/ dates :: Place in which to STOP

Week One/ December 29- January 5 :: page 45
Week Two/ January 6- 12 :: page 90
Week Three/ January 13- 19 :: page 135
Week Four/ January 20- 27 :: page 180 (The End)

POSTING SCHEDULE:

Post #/ date post should be up on blog:

Start up Post/ Today!
Week One/ January 6th
Week Two/ January 13th
Week Three/ January 20th
Week Four/ January 27th (Final Review)