In my younger and more vulnerable years I read a book that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since - The Great Gatsby. I read it every four or five years, and like Ulysses, each time I find myself struck by something different.
First, let’s just marvel at the shortness of it (my copy has a scant 180 pages), and yet how much theme it contains. In it he mocks the American dream, 1920’s society, class envy, class constrictions, new wealth, and the first golden age of advertising. On top of that he throws plenty of metaphor and symbolism, and then he wraps it all up in beautiful writing.
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. At his lips’ touch she blossomed like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
I mean, he’s kidding himself, right? He’s kidding himself that it’s painful to read, but still you can imagine what he’s feeling.
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.
I mean, there you have it. And let’s be clear, that section isn’t just about Jay Gatsby, it’s about that whole world, the New World shore, the green light.
It’s a great book for just pausing after you read a passage and thinking about it, and not forging ahead. Really one of my favorites.