Dream-idolatry and Tally of Immoral Actions (1/4) The Great Gatsby

by Philip Jonkers

The story of F. Scott Fitzgerald called The Great Gatsby, published in 1925, is situated in the New York City of the 1920s — 1922 to be more exact. What you are about to read is an Alchemical analysis of an amalgamation of Fitzgerald’s book and Baz Luhrmann‘s screenplay based on Fitzgerald’s book. Text used from the book will be rendered in a default blue color, which distinguishes from the default color green, reserved for text drawn from the screenplay. The book can be read online here. Take note that the online book has a slightly different page-numbering from the hard-copy that I have used in this analysis and which can be ordered at Book Depository or other book vendors. The screenplay can be read here and is the rendition which I used for this analysis.

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The prohibition of alcohol is in full swing. Although good law-abiding Americans saw themselves compelled to refrain from drinking alcohol, others–probably many others–secretly continued consuming necessarily bootlegged alcoholic beverages. In fact, the number of Americans who continued drinking must have been so great that a new class of rich people emerged, people who had become rich from the illegal alcohol trade, people forming part of America’s nouveau riche.

One such entrepreneur was a young fellow by the name of Jay Gatsby. “Officially”, no-one knew he was a bootlegger, of course — Gatsby amassed his fortune necessarily in secret, behind closed doors away from the prying eyes of most people and especially of those belonging to the instantly-unwelcome authorities.

The story focuses on one particular bifurcated geographical region which can be found along the north coast of Long Island, consisting of a peninsula called East Egg versus another peninsula called West Egg. West Egg was where the newly rich settled themselves. One of them was Jay Gatsby. East Egg was home to old money — the old rich, if you will. And one of them was a young fellow named Tom Buchanan, “heir to one of America’s wealthiest families“ — who lived in an “impressive Georgian mansion” overlooking “a quarter mile of lawn that cascades down to a private polo field.“ (p.6) Tom had been a “sporting star“ at Yale. “But now his glory days were behind him and he contented himself with . . . other affairs.“ (p.7)

It was hardly by chance that Jay chose for his mansion one which happened to be exactly opposite that of Tom. The two gentlemen were thus separated from each-other only by a bay (spilling out into the Long Island Sound). The reason why Gatsby chose to quite literally (and also quite figuratively) oppose Tom was that the latter happened to be married to Daisy — “Daisy Buchanan. The golden girl. A breathless warmth flowed from her.“ (p.9)

Daisy happened to be Jay’s one-and-only love five years ago. Then the war came and through circumstances which will become clear as the story develops, Jay had seen himself forced to give her up. Even though Daisy went to marry Tom a year after they parted, Jay never was able to give up on Daisy in his heart and mind. Wherever he went, he always continued to have faith in what to him was but inevitable and fateful: his reunion with her. In fact, his whole being was driven by the one singular hope that meant something in his life: to one day be able to reconcile with his great lost love and to live forever and ever together, unperturbed in splendid pure bliss.

The narrator of the story, both in the book and the movie-script, is called Nick Carraway — a cousin of Daisy (“second cousin once removed” p.11) and acquaintance of Tom, with whom he had went to college (Yale) before he was called of to take part in the Great War. Nick lived in a small cottage right next to Jay’s huge castle-like mansion, in West Egg. In the book, Nick made the following significant claim about his own person. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.“ (p.64)

” . . . Tom was God knows where – with God knows whom . . .”

Finding cousin Daisy mired in an unhappy marriage with Tom

The story begins when Nick visits Tom and Daisy in East Egg.

When he was received by his cousin-in-law, Nick noticed that Tom “had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body – he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage – a cruel body. His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even towards people he liked – and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.“ (p.13)

As Tom took Nick inside the house, he met with Daisy and Jordan Baker — Daisy’s friend and a champion professional golfer. During dinner, at only the slightest of unintended provocations, Tom suddenly and “violently“ went to claim that “Civilization’s going to pieces“ and that, “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things.“ Inspired by a timely racist book he was reading called “The Rise of the Coloured Empires“ written “by this man Goddard“, Tom asserted that the colored people were on the verge of taking over the rulership from the white people and he was most alarmed by the prospect. “The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.“ (p.19)

At the end of dinner the phone in the hall rang. Tom excused himself and answered the call of what Jordan told Nick, after Daisy left the room also, could very well be the mistress of the master of the house — “some woman in New York.“ (p.21) Daisy took her cousin to the garden and confided in him. “I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.“ (p.23) In order to give Nick an idea about how she felt about “things“, Daisy described the birth of her daughter. “Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where” “– with God knows whom“. “I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool – that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’“ (p.23)(p.15)

In a “convinced way“, she went on to say, “You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow“, “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.“ While she spoke those words, “Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and she laughed with thrilling scorn“: “Sophisticated — God, I’m sophisticated!“ (p.23)

Nick was wary of the lack of authenticity in the way she spoke. “The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.“ (pp.23,4)

When Nick again left the Buchanan residence and drove back home, he was “confused and a little disgusted“, “It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms – but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he ‘had some woman in New York’ was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.“ (p.26)

” . . . do you want to sit on the sideline and watch, or do you want to play ball?”

Practically strong-armed into meeting Tom’s mistress

Not long after, under the excuse of visiting the Yale Club in New York City, Tom and Nick boarded the train that carried them to the “valley of ashes“, a barely-inhabitable “desolate“ stretch of dusty, sooty land about “half way between West Egg and New York“. It was, “New York’s dumping ground” (p.18): a “fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak and comes to rest, and immediately the ash–grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud which screens their obscure operations from your sight.” (p.28)

When the train stopped in the middle of the giant ash–heap–which nevertheless served in the unlikely capacity of human habitat–Tom “jumped to his feet“, took hold of Nick’s elbow and “literally forced“ him from the car. As if it was a matter of upholding personal pride, Tom was adamant that Nick meet his “girl.” Tom seems to really have been proud for keeping a mistress as he made no effort to keep it a secret, quite the contrary even. “The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known. His acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in popular restaurants with her and, leaving her at a table, sauntered about, chatting with whomsoever he knew. Though I was curious to see her I had no desire to meet her—but I did.“ “I think he’d tanked up a good deal at luncheon, and his determination to have my company bordered on violence. The supercilious assumption was that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do.“ (p.29)

While silently gathered by Dr. T.J. Eckleburg–“A forgotten oculist whose eyes brooded over it all like the eyes of God“ (p.18)–Tom dragged Nick to a garage run by a fellow named George B. Wilson. He was “a blond, spiritless man, anaemic, and faintly handsome. When he saw us a damp gleam of hope sprang into his light blue eyes.“ (p.30)

While Tom and Wilson briefly exchanged pleasantries and were in the process of discussing the progress of an ongoing mutual business opportunity, Nick suddenly was distracted–his attention drawn away from the two men–when he “heard footsteps on a stairs, and in a moment the thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door. She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her flesh sensuously, as some women can. Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crepe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty, but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering. She smiled slowly and, walking through her husband as if he were a ghost, shook hands with Tom, looking him flush in the eye.“ (p.30)

Myrtle announced her arrival on the scene in such a way that she thereby also asserted superior spousal authority, “If it’s business you’re talking, you should be talking to me.“ To her husband she barked, “Get some chairs why don’t you; so somebody can sit down.“ (p.20) With her husband slavishly dashing out to the back of the house in search of suitable seating furniture, perfectly unbeknown to a rather naive Wilson, Tom surreptitiously told Myrtle, “I want to see you“, “Get on the next train.“ Eager to indulge in any kind of break from the ash-laden, suffocating and suicidally-boring shit hole in which she found herself living (if you can even call it that), Myrtle readily–indeed, gratefully–yielded to Tom’s imperative. When Nick had a chance to ask Tom whether her husband wouldn’t object, Tom implied with his answer–not without a good dose of conceit–to take comfort in Wilson’s apparent lack of general wits: “Wilson? He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He’s so dumb he doesn’t know he’s alive.“ (p.31)

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“Better than the Yale Club . . .”

Although he was hesitant to come with at first, it didn’t take long for Nick to succumb to Tom’s not-terribly-subtle and compelling pressure. Daisy’s cousin more-or-less voluntarily agreed to accompany Mr. Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson down to the City where he would join them for a little private party in “the hidden flat that Tom kept for Myrtle“ (p.24). “I have been drunk just twice in my life, and the second time was that afternoon; so everything that happened has a dim, hazy cast over it although until after eight o’clock the apartment was full of cheerful sun.“ (p.34)

While Tom was busy fucking Myrtle in the bedroom, Nick had the uncertain pleasure to receive the new party goers: Myrtle’s sister, Catherine—“a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white“ (p.34)–and a couple who lived in an apartment below, Mr. and Mrs. McKee.

In the meanwhile, Tom and Myrtle emerged from the steamy bedroom. “Mrs. Wilson had changed her costume some time before and was now attired in an elaborate afternoon dress of cream colored chiffon, which gave out a continual rustle as she swept about the room. With the influence of the dress her personality had also undergone a change. The intense vitality that had been so remarkable in the garage was converted into impressive hauteur. Her laughter, her gestures, her assertions became more violently affected moment by moment, and as she expanded the room grew smaller around her, until she seemed to be revolving on a noisy, creaking pivot through the smoky air.“ (p.35)

When Nick told Catherine that he lived right next door to Gatsby’s, she claimed to have attended one of his extravagant parties about a month ago. Myrtle’s sister, without blushing or hesitation, told Nick that his illustrious yet mysterious neighbor would be nothing short of “a cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm’s. You know, the evil German king . . .“ (p.23) She immediately went on to further declare: “That’s where all his money comes from.“ “I’m scared of him. I’d hate to have him get anything on me.“ (p.37)

Catherine leaned closer to Nick and assumed whisper mode as if the man she gossiped about could quite possibly be standing not too far from her with perked up ears deliberately trying to hear what kind of awful shameful things she was saying about him. Concerning her sister and her sister’s lover, Catherine told him, “Neither of them can stand who they’re married to.“ When Nick asked for an explicit confirmation as to whether Mrs. Wilson would not be partial to Mr. Wilson either, Myrtle happened to overhear their not too private conversation and–without any reservation whatsoever–blurted out an instantly informative: “He’s a greasy little scumbag!“ (p.24)

While referring to Tom’s marriage with Daisy, a “triumphantly“-enthusiastic Catherine went to further claim that, “It’s really his wife that’s keeping them apart. She’s a Catholic and they don’t believe in divorce.“ However, Nick knew that his cousin “was not a Catholic“ and was therefore “a little shocked at the elaborateness of the lie.“ Catherine bravely continued, “When they do get married,” “they’re going west to live for a while until it blows over.“ (p.38)

If we make the reasonable assumption that it was Tom who lied and not Myrtle (i), then an obvious motive for him doing so would be that it served to prolong his secret affair with Myrtle. If he would have been honest with Myrtle and told her (from day one) that he simply didn’t want to divorce Daisy–that he preferred to stay married to his wife, a woman of evident “fine breeding” (unlike Myrtle)–then Tom’s sincerity in the matter would immediately have implied a relegation of Myrtle to an explicit second rank, a station which–quite understandably–any self-respecting woman would naturally object having to own up to.

If this train of thought is valid then Tom’s dishonesty (towards Myrtle) could be explained if his intention was to be able to juggle having a wife and a mistress at the same time, both of whom had to be kept at a–for him–comfortable distance away from the truth. Hence, Tom by necessity had to have been more interested in seeking pleasure than in finding true naked intimacy, since the latter would have required him to be like an open book to the woman he preferred, something which he apparently had trouble being. Perhaps his failure to be intimate (and vulnerable), was precisely that which fueled his philandering habit in order to find in simple sexual pleasure and cheap hedonistic pleasure superficially-satisfactory surrogates for the blissful matrimonial state of love he was unable to attain.

In addition, it could also have inspired him to up the ante on presenting himself with even more compensatory arrogance, as a sort of reaction–formation to any hint of personal awareness of being defective in a human sense — but it would nonetheless be the kind of self-awareness which he would be prone to repress, which he could never allow to blossom beyond a hint-kind-of-level, because allowing to be conscious of being defective would stand counter to the haughty machismo which he liked to claim for himself and radiate with such immoderate pride.

Footnote (i) { Let’s assume that Nick was correct in that Daisy was not Catholic and that she therefore could not possibly object to a divorce on such grounds and let’s assume that Catherine was not deliberately spreading false information herself. This means that either Tom or Myrtle was lying. If Myrtle was lying then she must have lied to her sister, which in principle was possible but wouldn’t seem probable if the sisters had an intimate and frank sisterly relationship — something which was probable since it would be normal. Also since Tom was present in the room and would be in an excellent position to catch Myrtle lying about him and Daisy, it is even less likely that it was Myrtle who was doing the lying.} (back2text)

When the two sisters went on to discuss Myrtle’s ill-fated marriage all out in the open, Nick suddenly found himself in a crossfire:

Catherine: (demanding) “Why did you, Myrtle?” “Nobody forced you to.“
Myrtle considered.
Myrtle: (finally) “I married him because I thought he was a gentleman“. “I thought he knew something about breeding, but he wasn‘t fit to lick my shoe.“
Catherine: “You were crazy about him for a while“.
Myrtle: (incredulously) “Crazy about him!” “Who said I was crazy about him? I never was any more crazy about him than I was about that man there.“
Nick: (narrating) “She pointed suddenly at me, and every one looked at me accusingly. I tried to show by my expression that I had played no part in her past.“
Myrtle: “The only crazy I was was when I married him. I knew right away I made a mistake. He borrowed somebody’s best suit to get married in and never even told me about it, and the man came after it one day when he was out. She looked around to see who was listening: ‘Oh, is that your suit?’ I said. ‘This is the first I ever heard about it.’ But I gave it to him and then I lay down and cried to beat the band all afternoon.“
Catherine: (facing Tom) “She really ought to get away from him“. “They’ve been living over that garage for eleven years. And Tom’s the first sweetie she ever had.“ (pp.39,40)

If the sisters were right then it has every appearance of it that Wilson conned Myrtle into marrying him. If true, he must have made her believe that she would be wed to a man of fine stock when they married, a belief that turned out to be quite wrong when they ended up living in that ash-invested godforsaken shit hole in the middle of nowhere. By his wearing of a decent suit during the wedding ceremony–clothes which he secretly were to have borrowed–Wilson seduced Myrtle into accepting as the God’s honest truth what was a rather simplistic Confidence-pot-idol, one in which he was depicted as an attractive “gentleman“ who knew “something about breeding“.

He had held out the bait in the form of himself being wrapped up in a borrowed nice suit and she heedlessly had gone for it — hook, line and sinker. While Wilson deserves to be reproached for his selfish cunning, Myrtle–on the other hand–would only be doing herself a big favor if she were to do something about her self-defeating gullibility.

A couple of bottles of whiskey down the line, after–as if by inebriated magic–10pm somehow rapidly followed up 9pm without Nick apparently noticing a thing, “Some time toward midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to face discussing in impassioned voices whether Mrs. Wilson had any right to mention Daisy’s name. ‘Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!’ shouted Mrs. Wilson. ‘I’ll say it whenever I want to! Daisy! Dai——’ Making a short deft movement Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand.“ (p.42) And with that violent gesture, the party was over.

For the first time attending one of the spectacular parties freely given by the magnanimous mysterious neighbor

Ever since Nick came to live next door to Gatsby, he noticed that there “was music from my neighbor’s house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor-boats slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city, between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants including an extra gardener toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers and garden-shears, repairing the ravages of the night before.“ (p.44)

One Saturday morning, Nick received a handwritten invitation to attend his neighbor’s upcoming weekend house party, promising to be spectacular by default. “I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby’s house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited—they went there. They got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island and somehow they ended up at Gatsby’s door. Once there they were introduced by somebody who knew Gatsby and after that they conducted themselves according to the rules of behavior associated with amusement parks. 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.46)

“As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied so vehemently any knowledge of his movements that I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table—the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone.“ (p.47) While brandishing his invitation, Nick summoned his courage and asked the bartender, “Do you know where I might find the host, Mr. Gatsby? I live just next door . . .“ The bartender was sadly no help either and even went to claim universal ignorance as to the mysterious whereabouts of the generous host when he answered: “Mr. Gatsby? I’ve never seen him sir. Why, no one has . . .“ (p.29) Although such an assertion may have been a bit exaggerated, it did serve to show that the host apparently was not too keen on making himself known on what regardless were still his very own parties — something which was remarkable to say the least. The obvious question was, why?

As Nick leisurely strolled around the party area, he would be witness to the unfolding of an extravagant and colorful marvel, indeed. “The whole city packed into automobiles and all weekend, every weekend, ended up at Gatsby’s. And I mean everyone: from every walk of life, from every corner of New York City, this kaleidoscopic carnival spilled through Gatsby’s door . . . A caravansary of . . . Billionaire play-boy publishers, and their blond nurses . . . Heiresses comparing inheritances on Gatsby’s beach . . . My boss, Walter Chase, losing money at the roulette tables . . . Gossip columnists . . . Alongside gangsters and governors exchanging telephone numbers . . . Silent film stars . . . Broadway directors . . . Morality protectors. . . Casino collectors . . . Underage hecklers . . . And Ewing Klipspringer, dubious descendant of Beethoven!“ (pp.27-9)

Fortunately for Nick, he soon came to have the comfort of the company of Jordan Baker. Together with a few of her peremptory East Egger friends, they set out scouring the estate-turned-amusement-park in search of their magnetic yet enigmatic host. “We all turned and looked around for Gatsby. It was testimony to the romantic speculation he inspired that there were whispers about him from those who found little that it was necessary to whisper about in this world.“ (p.49) In the swirling wake of Jordan’s cocky entourage, Nick went to hear that Gatsby were to have been a “German spy during the war“; while another one of Jordan’s highbrow friends had no compunction at all to declare that he was “the Kaiser’s assassin“; yet another one of his festive companions claimed without blinking that he “killed a man once“; which–in turn–directly inspired still yet another party-goer to quickly follow up with an even bolder claim: their esteemed but absent host “kills for fun! Free of charge.“ (p.30)

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“I’m Gatsby . . .”

While Nick was casually browsing around enjoying the party to the best of his abilities, suddenly a man made himself known to him, claiming to recognize the other from an apparently shared military history to have taken place during the Great War. Nick told the man, “This is an unusual party for me. I haven’t even seen the host.“ While explaining to his new companion that he lived no further than right next door and that “this man Gatsby sent over his chauffeur with an invitation“, the man looked at Nick “as if he failed to understand“ but went to relieve their mutual puzzlement when he introduced himself, “I’m Gatsby“. Embarrassed, Nick apologized and to which Gatsby retorted: “I thought you knew, old sport. I’m afraid I’m not a very good host.“ (p.53)

He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. Precisely at that point it vanished—and I was looking at an elegant young rough-neck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd. Some time before he introduced himself I’d got a strong impression that he was picking his words with care. (p.53)

Gatsby then momentarily left inside and a little while later had his butler send for “Miss Baker“; he wanted to have a word with her in private. All alone once again, Nick picked up his routine of aimlessly wandering about the party. When Jordan returned, she enthusiastically announced to have become privy to a rather “tantalizing“ revelation, “Nick! Nick! I’ve just heard the most shocking thing; it all makes sense. . .“ (p.36) It was obvious from her demeanor that she couldn’t tell him right now what it was that she was hinting at, but there was a silent promise that she eventually would when she invited Nick to call her up sometime later on in order to arrange to have tea together, emphatically assuring him — “I’m in the phone-book!“ (p.37). She then could be seen leaving the party with her whole fabulous East Egg entourage all jammed together into one car driving away. Gatsby briefly rejoined Nick and they agreed to go aquaplaning on the Sound the next morning. They bade each-other good night and Nick retired.

“Yes, Europe! Paris; Venice; Rome; Vienna, Zurich, Helsinki . . . Collecting jewels, chiefly rubies, hunting big game, painting, a little, things for myself mostly, and trying to forget something very sad that happened to me long ago.”

On the way to having a free lunch, being taken for a ride . . .

“We rode in the hydroplane . . . And I attended two more of his parties, even made use of his beach. But I soon realized that I knew absolutely nothing about Gatsby at all, until . . .“ (p.38) At that precise moment, “At nine o’clock, one morning late in July, Gatsby’s gorgeous car lurched up the rocky drive to my door and gave out a burst of melody from its three noted horn.“ (p.67) Jay announced his prompt arrival in an air of good-natured optimism yet also with a good dash of superseding authoritarianism, “Good morning, old sport. You’re having lunch with me today and I thought we’d ride up together.” While he was making his presence known to his welcoming and friendly but also slightly-overwhelmed neighbor, “He was balancing himself on the dashboard of his car with that resourcefulness of movement that is so peculiarly American—that comes, I suppose, with the absence of lifting work or rigid sitting in youth and, even more, with the formless grace of our nervous, sporadic games. This quality was continually breaking through his punctilious manner in the shape of restlessness. He was never quite still; there was always a tapping foot somewhere or the impatient opening and closing of a hand.“ (p.69)

After they’ve agreed upon the beauty of Gatsby’s car, Nick came to the realization that “I had talked with him perhaps half a dozen times in the past month and found, to my disappointment, that he had little to say: So my first impression, that he was a person of some undefined consequence, had gradually faded and he had become simply the proprietor of an elaborate road-house next door.“ (p.68) Nevertheless, Nick hopped into Jay’s car and they drove off.

While being “beyond nervous“ and while driving “with reckless intensity“, out of the clear blue sky, Gatsby fired away at his hapless and exposed neighbor the kind of question which arguably lacked discretion:

Gatsby: “Ah. . . well. . . Ah. . . Look here, old sport. . . What’s your opinion of me, anyhow?”
A little overwhelmed, I began the generalized evasions which that question deserves.
Nick: “My . . . opinion?“
Gatsby: “Yes, yes, your opinion!“
Gatsby yanks the wheel; Nick hangs on for dear life!
Gatsby: “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression from all those bizarre accusations you must be hearing. A pack of lies I assure you. You’ve heard the stories. . .?“
Nick: “Well–“
Gatsby: “I’ll tell you God’s truth. God’s truth about myself!“ (raises right hand) “I am the son of some very wealthy people from the Middle-West; sadly, all dead now“”and I came into a good deal of money.” “I was brought up in America, but educated at Oxford; because all my ancestors have been educated there for many years. You see, it’s a. . . a family tradition.“
Nick: (narrating) “He looked at me sideways — and I knew why Jordan Baker had believed he was lying. He hurried the phrase ‘educated at Oxford’, or swallowed it, or choked on it, as though it had bothered him before. And with this doubt, his whole statement fell to pieces, and I wondered if there wasn’t something a little sinister about him, after all.” (p.69)
Gatsby: “After that I lived like a young Prince in all the capitals of Europe!“
Nick: “Europe?“
Barrelling around a blind turn, Gatsby wrenches at the wheel and maniacally overtakes a truck laden with farmhands. . .
Gatsby: “Yes, Europe! Paris; Venice; Rome; Vienna, Zurich, Helsinki. . . Collecting jewels, chiefly rubies, hunting big game, painting, a little, things for myself mostly, and trying to forget something very
sad that happened to me long ago . . .“
Gatsby hasn’t stopped for breath. . .
Gatsby: “Then came the war, old sport. . .“
Nick: (narrating) “Just when I thought it couldn’t be any more fantastical. . .“
Gatsby: “It was a great relief and I tried very hard to die, but I seemed to bear an enchanted life. . .“
Nick: (narrating) “He became a war hero, single-handedly defeating the German army!“
Gatsby: (sudden, subdued emotion) “In the Argonne Forest I took my machine gun detachment so far forward. . . We were outnumbered five to one. There was a half mile gap on either side of us where the infantry couldn’t advance. We stayed there two days and two nights, 130 men with only 16 Lewis guns. . . . . .When the infantry came up at last they found the insignia of 3 German divisions among the piles of the dead.“ (pp.38,40)

Gatsby would go on claiming that he subsequently was promoted to Major and that “every Allied government“ were to each have given him a decoration. He then showed Nick the medal that Montenegro supposedly gave him. He also showed Nick a picture of his “Oxford days“. “It was a photograph of half a dozen young men in blazers loafing in an archway through which were visible a host of spires. There was Gatsby, looking a little, not much, younger—with a cricket bat in his hand.“ (p.71) He claimed that the man pictured to his left was now the “Earl of Doncaster.“ Nick found both artifacts looking authentic. He thus wondered to himself, “Could it all be true?“ (p.41)

However, in the kind of gesture which seemingly promised to lend credibility to the man’s story, Gatsby swore to Nick to not just take his word for it but instead let the other partaker of their approaching lunch, his business partner, vouch for the “good character” of Nick’s flamboyant yet also dubious neighbor. When Nick nonetheless gave off a remarkably-easygoing feeling about the whole matter by asserting that such a thing would “not“ be “necessary“, Gatsby nevertheless insisted.

Gatsby: “Oh but it is though. . .! You see, I thought you ought to know something about my life. I. . . I don’t want you to think I’m just some. . . some nobody. You see,“ “I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad thing that happened to me“. “Old sport, I’m going to make a very big request of you today.“
Nick: “A big request?” “At lunch?“
Gatsby: “No, this afternoon. I happened to find out that you’re taking Miss Baker to tea.“
Nick: “Do you mean you’re in love with Miss Baker?“
Gatsby: “No, old sport, I’m not. But Miss Baker has kindly consented to speak to you about this matter.” “She will explain everything when you take her to tea this afternoon.” (p.42)
I hadn’t the faintest idea what ‘this matter’ was, but I was more annoyed than interested. I hadn’t asked Jordan to tea in order to discuss Mr. Jay Gatsby. I was sure the request would be something utterly fantastic and for a moment I was sorry I’d ever set foot upon his overpopulated lawn. (p.71)

As they made their way to their destination in the city–one of the no doubt many local speakeasies–Gatsby easily rid himself of a pursuing police officer on motorcycle, who had been briefly chasing after him for speeding in one of the densely-populated suburbs of New York City. He managed to do so by exerting himself no more than to merely flash his apparently magical business card in the face of the officer, who subsequently instantly recognized not the speeder’s but his own “mistake” and humbly receded into the background again. Gatsby said he could do what he just did because he were to have been “able to do the Commissioner a favor once.” (p.43)

In spite of having just witnessed this impressive move, or perhaps precisely because of it, Nick “didn’t know what to think“ and the poor lad ended up “impossibly confused.“ And while residing in a momentarily-debilitating state of confusion, the rational quality of his otherwise reasonably-reliable faculty of perception was suddenly no longer there — the social environment playing out around him suddenly came to have a strange and unintuitive feel to it. “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. The friends looked out at us with the tragic eyes and short upper lips of south-eastern Europe, and I was glad that the sight of Gatsby’s splendid car was included in their somber holiday. As we crossed Blackwell’s Island a limousine passed us,” “A Rolls Royce in which two stylish African American men and a woman haughtily quaff champagne. They are driven by a white chauffeur.“ (pp.72,3) (p.43)

Perhaps it’s interesting to meditate a little as to why Nick ended up “impossibly confused“. Maybe it was because of the fact that during their ride, Gatsby had proven to be both a liar and a manipulator. First, he had went to blatantly and extensively lie to Nick in that his companion and neighbor would be a superb gentleman with outlandish and stellar qualifications. Second, he manipulated the police officer to corrupt himself in his function as maintainer of the law by letting Gatsby go without being fined and reined in. Even though he had been driving at a dangerously-high speed in an urban area, the officer just let him go in a breeze. And so Gatsby manifested himself as someone who was not shunned from using lies and manipulation in order to get what he wanted in life.

And although he could not realize it at the time, this would also mean that Gatsby might just employ both lies and manipulation in order to get to Daisy. It seems that his mind was moving in the direction of trying to understand that Gatsby was in reality less kosher than what the man made himself out to be to the near-hibernating observer, but somehow Nick seemed to have lacked the mental fortitude to be able to do so — hence, the “impossibly confused“ and overwhelmed state of his mind.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to make THAT call. Meyer, do you mind?”

Conned into believing that Gatsby would make not just fine but exquisite husband material

When they arrived at said speakeasy, which from the outside was cleverly disguised as a “barbershop”, Gatsby introduced Nick to Mr Wolfsheim. Gatsby’s apparent employer proved to be all-too-willing to vouch for his promising apparent employee. Gatsby momentarily excused himself and in a not-so subtle hint told Wolfsheim to go out and supposedly make “THAT call“. While Nick was left sitting with Mr Wolfsheim alone, as if on cue, the latter promptly launched into a tribute of praise: “Gatsby! What a gentleman! From one of the finest families in the Midwest. . . Sadly all dead now.“ (p.46) The good man without blushing or blinking would further declare, “I made the pleasure of his acquaintance just after the war. But I knew I had discovered a man of fine breeding after I talked with him an hour. I said to myself: ‘There’s the kind of man you’d like to take home and introduce to your mother and sister.’ ” (p.76) “A war hero! Such. . . medals. And, an Oggsford man. Oggsford College in England. You know Oggsford?“ (p.46)

Nick dryly admitted that he had heard of “Oggsford“, yet did not give the slightest of indications that he knew he was being buggered. Thus nothing stood in the way for Wolfsheim to move forward with assuring his younger companion, “Then you would know that a man like that can be trusted. With a friend, with someone like you, he would never so much as look at your wife. . .“ (p.47) Especially that last remark drips of cynical irony, since Gatsby had the precise intention to not just look at Tom’s wife but to most extensively and most passionately gaze at her, indeed, be wholly absorbed in her whole being, and to do so from here to eternity if given half-of-half-a-chance.

On Jay’s return, after he showed his extraordinary tiepin to a curious Nick, Wolfsheim rose to his feet and was ready to leave their table — claiming, “I’m going to run off from you two young men before I outstay my welcome.“ (p.76) When indeed Wolfsheim had left, Nick asked Gatsby what kind of man he was. Jay hesitated at first but then went on to “coolly“ claim that the man with the funny tiepin were to be a “gambler“ who had “fixed the World’s Series back in 1919.“ Nick reflected on what Gatsby just told him. “The idea staggered me. I remembered of course that the World’s Series had been fixed in 1919 but if I had thought of it at all I would have thought of it as a thing that merely happened, the end of some inevitable chain. It never occurred to me that one man could start to play with the faith of fifty million people—with the single-mindedness of a burglar blowing a safe.“ (p.77) Nick asked his companion how a man like Wolfsheim happened to have succeeded in accomplishing such–by implication, remarkable–a feat. Jay answered, “He just saw the opportunity“. When Nick asked him why he wasn’t in jail, Gatsby claimed that his close business relation was a “very smart man“ (p.48); the insinuation being that he would simply be too smart to get caught.

Still Nick did not see any cause for alarm. The protector of Gatsby would be a wily and elusive criminal who had exploited the opportunity to corrupt the whole gambling apparatus behind the World Series to such extent that allegedly “the faith of fifty million people“ had been at stake. And yet Nick somehow was incapable of having any concerns as to the ways in which Gatsby’s business ethics might be affected by his fraternizing with the already highly-dubious kind of man who was evidently comfortable enough to receive Gatsby with open arms and while hugging him amicably called him: “my boy!“ (p.44). No bells were ringing yet for Nick.

Then all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, Tom Buchanan emerged from the easy-speaking crowd and rushed up in the direction of their table. Tom and Jay had never met before until that moment, and it was immediately clear from Jay’s abrupt change of demeanor that he had no ambitions of wanting to do so now. At the time, Nick was perfectly clueless with respect to Gatsby being especially inclined to regard the newcomer as a particularly unlikely and unwelcome guest to have lunch with, or any other type of meal for that matter. Apparently, Tom felt the rather same way about Gatsby since “they shook hands briefly, and a strained, unfamiliar look of embarrassment came over Gatsby’s face.“ (p.78)

Jay then surreptitiously eased away from the table without excusing himself, and–because he failed to return–in all likelihood stealthily vacated the premises altogether. It should not be terribly hard to realize why Gatsby became so unbearably uncomfortable, so very suddenly.

“I don’t know quite where to start.”

Having illuminating tea with Jordan

When Nick met with Jordan later that day for tea as arranged, he was frustrated and at once went to demand some answers concerning the “game“ she and Gatsby would be “playing at!“ (p.49) Jordan tried to calm down her agitated new companion, assuring him that the establishment which they were gracing with a visit happened to be a “polite restaurant“, the kind in which making any kind of scene would automatically be considered not done. Enlivened by a fiery passion, Nick nevertheless was adamant to know what was going on, in particular what exactly Gatsby wanted from him.

Nick: “What is this big request!?“
Jordan: “Nick–! He just wants you to invite Daisy to tea.“
Nick: “Tea?” (not what Nick expected) “Daisy. . .? And Gatsby. . .?” “Why?“
Jordan: “Well. . . I don’t know quite where to start. You see. . . I met Gatsby, five years ago, in Louisville. . . Daisy was by far the most popular girl with the Officers from Camp Taylor.” “She dressed in white, and had a little white roadster, and all day long the telephone rang in her home and excited young officers from Camp Taylor demanded the privilege of monopolising her that night. ‘Anyways, for an hour!’” “One of them was in the car with her. It was Gatsby. And the way he looked at her. . . Is the way all girls want to be looked at.” “They were so engrossed in each other that she didn’t see me until I was five feet away.“
Their eyes meet; a conspiring flicker.
Nick: (blown away) “So what happened?“
Jordan: “Well, I don’t know. . . Gatsby was sent off to war. . . But when the war ended. . . For some unknown reason, Gatsby couldn’t return. . . A year later, Tom Buchanan of Chicago swept in and stole her away. . . He gave her a string of pearls worth $350,000. But, the morning of the wedding, Daisy received a letter. . .“
Jordan takes Nick on a vivid cinematographic flashback to that fateful event having taken place five years ago. Daisy is lying on her bed, hysterical, clutching a bottle in one hand and a letter in the other.
Young Daisy: (screams) “Tell them Daisy’s changed her mind!“
Young Jordan: “Daisy! Please, everyone’s waiting!“
Daisy reaches for the pearls around her neck. . .
Young Daisy: “Give them back!!“
Suddenly! Daisy tears the pearls and hurls them; they explode into a hundred shimmering pieces against the hard wood floor!
Daisy’s hard-mouthed mother arrives on the scene.
Daisy‘s Mother: “What on earth is going on in here!?“
Her mother’s eyes land on the bottle, and then the letter. . . The last line of the letter reads: Love, Jay.
Young Daisy: “Leave me alone!“
Daisy‘s Mother: “Jordan, run the bath! Now!“
In the bath, Daisy grips the letter in her trembling hands.
The flashback ends, leaving Nick dying to know. . .
Nick: “What was in the letter?“
A deep breath, a last look, and then, Daisy opens her hand. . . The letter comes to pieces like snow.
Jordan: “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.“
But before the letter disappears completely we read one more line: “The truth is. . .”
Jordan: “Anyways, that day, at five o’clock, Daisy Faye married Tom Buchanan with more pomp and circumstance than Louisville had ever seen. . .” “He came down with a hundred people in four private cars, and hired a whole floor of the Muhlbach Hotel“.
Jordan: “After the honeymoon, I saw them in Santa Barbara. It was touching, actually. . . I’d never seen a girl so in love with her husband.“ “If he left the room for a minute she’d look around uneasily, and say: ‘Where’s Tom gone?’ and wear the most abstracted expression until she saw him coming in the door. She used to sit on the sand with his head in her lap by the hour rubbing her fingers over his eyes and looking at him with unfathomable delight. It was touching to see them together—it made you laugh in a hushed, fascinated way. That was in August.“ (muses cynically) “A week after I left Santa Barbara, Tom ran into a wagon on the Ventura road one night and ripped a front wheel off his car. The girl who was with him got into the papers too because her arm was broken—she was one of the chambermaids in the Santa Barbara Hotel.“
Nick: “Why am I not surprised? Back at Yale I always saw him hanging around all kinds of girls. But somehow he had a problem carrying on actual relationships. I remember he had a way with girls, quite capable of talking them into bed. Yet, at the same time, was surprisingly poorly motivated to keep them. I was a little bit surprised that my cousin wanted to marry Tom. Well, more than a little bit.”
Jordan: “Surprise? — that’s a perfectly fine response. I could understand Daisy if she would be looking for a better suitor than Tom’s. Daisy and Jay would have made a fine couple, at the time. And now? With all of Tom’s sleeping around? — who knows?”
Nick: (sudden, puzzled thought) “It’s a strange coincidence, isn’t it? Gatsby’s house being just across the bay. . .“
Jordan: “It’s no coincidence. He bought that house to be near her, he threw all those parties hoping she’d wander in one night. He constantly asked about Daisy. . . I was the first one who knew her.“
Nick takes this in; as if seeing Gatsby for the first time.
Nick: “All that for a girl he hasn’t seen in five years. . .? And now he just wants me to have her for tea. . .?“ (to himself) “The modesty of it.“
Jordan: “Kind of takes your breath away, doesn’t it?“
Nick: “And you think I should? I mean, does Daisy want to see Gatsby?“
Jordan: (a stern whisper) “She’s absolutely not to know. You are just supposed to invite her over so he can ‘happen to drop by.’“
Nick is still feeling unsure about the whole thing. . .
Nick: “Why didn’t he ask you to arrange a meeting?“
Jordan: “He wants her to see his house“. “And your house is right next door.“
Nick: (narrating) “I remember feeling torn. Was it right to bring my cousin Daisy, a married woman, together with a man I hardly knew?” (pp.50-4) (pp.78-83)

Nick and Jordan boarded a taxi together that took them to Long Island. Jordan got off in East Egg. When the taxi took him to West Egg, the moment he was able to see his house, beholding it from a distance, he feared that his poor little domicile was “on fire.” “Turning a corner, I saw that it was Gatsby’s house, lit from tower to cellar.“ At first, Nick suspected that there was another party going on in Gatsby’s palatial fun-park, but that turned out not to be the case. He arrived, paid his fare and got out. “As my taxi groaned away I saw Gatsby walking towards me across his lawn.” (p.85)

After exchanging the customary cordiality, Nick told Jay that he had met with Jordan just then. Although he initially had had reservations about getting involved as a middleman into what could very well develop into a married woman’s secret affair, apparently Nick by then had made up his mind to the contrary. His generosity for his neighbor evidently had won over his initial cautiousness when he announced to the other–who was chivalrously courteous but who also gave him a look of “suppressed eagerness“—“I’m going to call up Daisy tomorrow and invite her over here to tea.“ (p.85)

Gatsby, in his response, must have tried hard to suppress his exhilaration. He “carelessly“ responded in what appears to be a rather dubiously-modest manner: “Oh, that’s all right“, “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.“ (p.85) After going back-and-forth another time, Nick suggested to have said much-anticipated meeting the day after tomorrow. On concluding some irrelevant detours of speech, Gatsby agreed to Nick’s suggestion. Nick called up Daisy the next morning from the office. He invited her and she readily accepted. Before he hung up, however, he was sure to warn her to not bring Tom with her. At first she retorted with an innocent: “What?“. But when Nick–in verbatim–repeated his warning, her subsequent response was suddenly a lot less innocent: “Who is ‘Tom’?” (p.87)

“Five years next November.”

Daisy and Gatsby meet again for the first time after five long lost years . . . and do so in Nick’s cute little cottage

The next day, even though the weather-forecast predicted rain that day for a good deal of the day, Gatsby had his servants prepare Nick’s house to give it a decidedly festive note, one that–some might say–were to also have a decidedly seductive note. When four o’clock approached, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Daisy, Gatsby and Nick were seated in the modest living room of Nick’s beautifully dolled-up house; in particular, the living room had been decorated with so many flowers that it appeared as if Nick–in a gratefully-exploited fit of sheer flower-greed–had beforehand “ransacked a greenhouse.“ (p.60)

But Gatsby was nervous as hell. In fact, he was so high-strung by the mobilizing psychological forces of passionate expectation that he was on the verge of losing his nerve and calling off the whole operation . . . when, suddenly, the at-once noisy claxon of a prudently-approaching car abruptly and rudely came to shatter the soothing rainy outside serenity.

Nick immediately rushed out to meet their highly-anticipated guest of honor. “The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. I had to follow the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with my ear alone before any words came through. A damp streak of hair lay like a dash of blue paint across her cheek and her hand was wet with glistening drops as I took it to help her from the car.“ Daisy innocently asked her host: “Are you in love with me“, “Or why did I have to come alone?“ (p.89)

When an unsuspecting Daisy walked inside and into the living room, it appeared as if–in the meantime–Gatsby indeed had lost his nerve when there turned out to be no-one present inside. Nevertheless, a minute later Nick heard someone knocking on the door and he quickly let in a by then already thoroughly-drenched Gatsby. His anxious wild-eyed neighbor walked in, dripping and soaking wet, but nevertheless fully-equipped with newfound determination.

Daisy, her back to the door, is still marvelling at the flowers. Then she turns. Sees Gatsby. A sharp intake of breath. . . The reunited lovers stand, staring at each other for a long, surreal, moment of disbelief. Gatsby, eyes locked to Daisy’s, is drowning in emotion. Daisy finally manages an artificial, choking murmur.
Daisy: “I’m certainly glad to see you again.“
Gatsby’s face is flushed; the veins stand out on his neck as his lips spasm in a hopeless attempt to speak. Finally, he finds words . . .
Gatsby: “I’m . . . certainly glad to see you as well.“
Their hearts pound – the tension excruciating. (p.61)

It was clear that again coming face-to-face with Gatsby, and a highly-nervous Gatsby at that, had startled an unprepared Daisy. The reunion with Gatsby therefore took off on a rather uneasy note. Both Gatsby and Daisy were showing signs of clearly-perceivable tenseness and embarrassment when they sit down for tea. While the tension was almost tangible, the host of this awkward little rendez vous excused himself. A neurotic and all-keyed-up Gatsby dashed after him, desperately wanting to speak in private outside. A keen Nick, however, let an embarrassed Gatsby know something which he (while drowning in his own egocentrism) heretofore had failed to observe: that Daisy would be just as embarrassed as he was. Consequently, Gatsby readily drew courage from such an insight and steadfastly went back in, determined to make amends. And so he did.

“. . . for the second time that summer, I was guarding other people’s secrets.”

The struggle to juggle two moral dilemmas

Nick, in an admirable feat of selfless humility, went to stand under his big tree while Gatsby and Daisy were busy reconciling. And it was there that he had the kind of realization which reasonably speaking may be called disconcerting. “Looking over my story so far, I’m reminded that for the second time that summer“, “I was guarding other people’s secrets.“ (p.63) The ramifications for Nick are rather profound in the sense that his capacity to act as a moral being in integral (consistent) way has now been negatively affected.

By already guarding Tom’s secret of his affair with Myrtle, Nick must maintain a certain distance from Daisy as he now has to be willing to lie–and at any rate, lie by omission–if and when the topic of Tom’s infidelity would be broached in Nick and Daisy’s presence. Specifically, Nick should be willing to cover for Tom (by lying and by providing false alibis) if Daisy were to make inquiries to him as to Tom’s unaccounted-for absences. In addition, and although this would be an unlikely scenario since the two persons do not know each-other, Nick should–in principle–also be willing to cover for Myrtle if George Wilson were to make inquiries to him as to all the times the wife of the not-too-bright mechanic was frolicking out and about in New York City.

In other words, by (tacitly) agreeing to keep Tom’s affair a secret, in order to not snitch on Tom (and Myrtle), Nick must be prepared to lie and deceive at least two fellow human beings, people whom he–as such–necessarily would come to regard as being less worthy than he is, people who would be beneath him, so as for him to be able to rationalize away the dishonest ways in which he might treat them — or might see himself forced to treat them. Whether he is entirely conscious of it or not, this constitutes Nick’s first moral dilemma: tell Daisy or not? (and, to less relevant extent, tell Wilson or not?)

Likewise, by now also guarding Gatsby’s secret of his pending affair with Daisy, in order to not snitch on Daisy and Gatsby, Nick has to maintain a certain distance from Tom, since as of now he is expected to lie–or lie by omission–should Gatsby’s romantic aspirations end up the topic of discussion in Nick and Tom’s simultaneous presence. Specifically, Nick should be willing to cover for Daisy and Gatsby (by lying and by providing false alibis) if Tom were to make inquiries to him as to his wife’s unaccounted-for absences.

In other words, by (tacitly) agreeing to help keep under wraps Gatsby’s pending affair, Nick again must be prepared to lie and deceive another fellow human being, one whom he–as such–necessarily would come to regard as a person less valuable than he is, someone who would be beneath him, so as for him to be able to rationalize away the dishonest ways in which he might treat him — or might see himself forced to treat him. Whether he is entirely conscious of it or not, this constitutes Nick’s second moral dilemma: tell Tom or not?

However, since Tom had pretty much forced him to become a witness-accomplice as to Tom’s affair with Myrtle and thereby had put Nick in a tough spot concerning his cousin, Nick might just think to himself that it would be perfectly alright to take a little bit of a revenge on Tom in the form of facilitating Gatsby’s pending affair with Daisy. It sure would be understandable if Nick would be tempted to do so, and yet would he also be right? By deciding such a matter, by deciding to treat Tom this way, does not Nick judge something which is strictly-speaking not for him to judge? Indeed, should he–in a fit of vindictiveness–self–righteously decide that Tom would only squarely deserve to be cheated himself, Nick can’t help but treat Tom with effective albeit covert disdain — an attitude which would stand counter to the Golden Rule.

This is the tragic extent of Nick’s moral dilemma’s. By not telling Daisy about Tom’s affair, by not snitching Tom out, he puts her in a disadvantage — he effectively treats Daisy with disdain. But if he would tell her about her husband’s extramarital shenanigans, he puts Tom in a disadvantage. Even though he would be perfectly truthful, he would have acted as a snitch, and thus would risk ruining his friendship with Tom. The same goes for telling Tom about Daisy’s pending affair; depending on what he does, he cannot avoid hurting either Tom or Daisy.

In other words, Nick is forced twice into a for him no–win situation: doomed if he tells, doomed if he doesn’t tell. It ultimately goes to show the immoral nature of both Tom’s and Gatsby’s decision to drag into their respective affairs third parties and to thereby corrupt them. By becoming involved into the affairs, with respect to maintaining consistency to the Golden Rule, Nick could only lose as he would see himself forced to suffer some degree of alienation from Daisy in case of Tom’s affair and from Tom in case of Gatsby’s pending affair (and to less relevant extent, alienation from Wilson). It was therefore selfish and wrong of Tom to drag Nick into intimate knowledge of his affair with Myrtle. Likewise, it was selfish and wrong of Gatsby to involve Nick into intimate knowledge of his pending affair with Daisy.

The struggle to juggle two moral dilemmas only furthers the corruption of Nick to the extent that he chooses to not play the snitch. After all, if he would play the snitch his likely fate is loss of friendship and loss of social status as people would ultimately think twice or even thrice of trusting him (ever again!). Whereas Nick–at the beginning of the story–prided himself for being an honest fellow (p.64), he now has to be ready and willing to progressively sacrifice the one personal asset that made him feel so proud of himself (integrity), all in the name of safeguarding the continuity of the marital indiscretions of two people close to him (Daisy and Tom) as well as the dubious wife-depriving pending practice of a new person close to him (Gatsby).

Reunited in bliss, having a ball in Gatsby’s glamorous mansion

When he had enough of standing outside in the rain under his tree and came back inside, Gatsby and Daisy were back feeling very comfortable in each-other’s company. In fact, Nick had to make considerable noise to convince his guests that their host had returned. It was as if they were in an almost imperturbable mutually-hypnotizing state, an imaginary mental space into which they were gladly drifting away together, lost in some intimately-shared paradisaical realm of dreamy would-be reality. “They were sitting at either end of the couch, looking at each other as if some question had been asked, or was in the air, and every vestige of embarrassment was gone. Daisy’s face was smeared with tears, and when I came in she jumped up and began wiping at it with her handkerchief before a mirror. But there was a change in Gatsby that was simply confounding. He literally glowed; without a word or a gesture of exultation a new well-being radiated from him and filled the little room.“ (pp.92,3)

Nick optimistically announced that it had stopped raining in the meantime. After having been brought back down to earth somewhat, Jay invited them to come over to his house. “I’d like to show her around.“ (p.93) Although Nick hesitated to come along, Gatsby confirmed with certainty that he wanted Nick to come too.

“Instead of taking the short cut along the Sound we went down the road and entered by the big postern. With enchanting murmurs Daisy admired this aspect or that of the feudal silhouette against the sky, admired the gardens, the sparkling odor of jonquils and the frothy odor of hawthorn and plum blossoms and the pale gold odor of kiss-me-at-the-gate.” “We went upstairs, through period bedrooms swathed in rose and lavender silk and vivid with new flowers, through dressing rooms and poolrooms, and bathrooms with sunken baths“. (pp.94,5)

“He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real. Once he nearly toppled down a flight of stairs.“ (p.95) “After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at her presence. 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.“ (pp.95,6)

“Recovering himself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patent cabinets which held his massed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, and his shirts, piled like bricks in stacks a dozen high.“ Gatsby enthusiastically proclaimed, “I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall.“ “He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher—shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange with monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.“ (p.96)

Gatsby: “What is it?“
Daisy: “It’s just. . . It makes me sad, because. . .“
Daisy glances in Nick’s direction. . .
Gatsby: “Why?“
Daisy: “. . .because. . .“
A suspended moment; Daisy is incapable of speaking her heart. Five lost years struggled on Daisy’s lips. But all she could manage was. . .
Daisy: “It’s just. . . Because I’ve never seen such beautiful shirts before.“ (pp.68,9)

If she lied, then why? What was the truth that she evidently was too scared of revealing? One obvious thing that comes to mind is that she felt sorry for herself and Gatsby in that if he would only have been able to show her these splendid garments five years earlier then she could have seen herself marrying him at the time; she could have saved herself from having to endure a painful marriage to a man she didn’t seem to love and whom she thought didn’t love her either. Perhaps she deep down inside felt, or feared, that by now it was too late and yet was too afraid to spell it out to Gatsby and so she muted herself and instead uttered a misdirecting and probably-insincere excuse in order to hide her true feelings, the true uncensored contents of her heart.

Gatsby then went to show Daisy a scrapbook containing all the newspaper clippings he had ever saved about her as well as all the love-letters she had ever written him.

After the progression of the evening had slowly gone to drape the estate in sheer darkness, they found themselves in Gatsby’s grand ballroom. “Hundreds of candles flicker in patterns. As a slow, melancholic waltz plays, Gatsby and Daisy dance, enraptured. . .” (p.71) “As I went over to say goodbye I saw that the expression of bewilderment had come back into Gatsby’s face, as though a faint doubt had occurred to him as to the quality of his present happiness. Almost five years! 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.99)

“As I watched him he adjusted himself a little, visibly. His hand took hold of hers and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion.” (p.99,100)

Daisy: (whispers) “I wish I had done everything on earth with you. All my life.“
Nick: (narrating) “I think that voice held him most with its fluctuating, feverish warmth because it couldn’t be over-dreamed—that voice was a deathless song.” (p.100)
Daisy: (softly) “I wish that it could always be like this. . .“
Gatsby: (long pause, whispers in her ear) “It will be. . .” (p.72)

“They had forgotten me, but Daisy glanced up and held out her hand; Gatsby didn’t know me now at all. I looked once more at them and they looked back at me, remotely, possessed by intense life. Then I went out of the room and down the marble steps into the rain, leaving them there together.” (p.100) “If only it had been enough for Gatsby, just to hold Daisy. . . But he had a grand vision for his life, and Daisy’s part in it.” (p.72)

Tom and Daisy attend one of Gatsby’s spectacular parties

“By midsummer Gatsby was front page news. . .“ New York’s newspapers flash intriguing titles, such as:

• “GATSBY BUYING OUR CITY? INVESTMENT MONOPOLY FUELS CONCERNS”;
• “JAY CASHES IN! GATSBY STRIKES WALL STREET GOLD!”;
• “GATSBY INVESTS IN SKYSCRAPERS!”;
• “JAY PAYS FOR EVERYTHING: PARTIES, GALAS, PARKS, SCHOOLS!”;
• “WALL STREETS KING? MEET JAY GATSBY!”;
• And most revealing: “WHERE’S THE MONEY FROM!? MYSTERY MILLIONS SPARK WILD RUMORS” (p.76)

Indeed, that was the one capital question begging, on hands and knees, for an answer: “Where did the money come from? That’s what all of New York wanted to know. And it was the same question on Tom’s mind when he accompanied Daisy to one of Gatsby’s glittering parties. . .“ (p.76) Besides, “Tom was evidently perturbed at Daisy’s running around alone“ and he was hoping to find out more as to his wife’s extracurricular activities by going to the kind of social gathering in which virtually anyone would be present who meant something in the wider New York City area — and who, at the same time, would also happen to not mind being seen in public engaging in what at the time was still, technically, an illegal activity. “Perhaps his presence gave the evening its peculiar quality of oppressiveness — it stands out in my memory from Gatsby’s other parties that summer. There were the same people, or at least the same sort of people, the same profusion of champagne, the same many-colored, many-keyed commotion, but I felt an unpleasantness in the air, a pervading harshness that hadn’t been there before.“ (p.108)

On arrival and reception, Gatsby led his new guests, “Tom, Daisy and Nick to the top of the terrace stairs“ and announced with his usual formally-confident flair, “We’ve got a great band here. Have a look around. . . Excuse me. . .” The esteemed host went out in the crowd for a second to find a Senator named Gulick, brought him over and introduced him to the group. Likely not entirely unintentional and innocent, Gatsby introduced Tom–his automatic rival–as “The polo player“ (and nothing more), a title which Tom–after only a minor hesitation already–explicitly objected having to own up to. “But evidently the sound of it pleased Gatsby for Tom remained ‘the polo player’ for the rest of the evening.“ (p.109) Tom reaffirmed his disapproving sentiments about being referred to as “the polo player“, when he emphatically declared, “I’d rather not be the polo player“. Daisy, however, assured her husband, “You should be proud of your achievements” (p.78) and thereby conveniently yet charmingly also backed up her secret lover.

When Gatsby showed them around the party and asked if they recognized any familiar faces, Daisy said “Absolutely!“, whereas Tom surprisingly asserted quite the contrary (rebelliousness?), “We don’t go around very much. I don’t think I recognize a single person. . .”

Gatsby: “Perhaps you know that lady there? Gatsby indicates a lovely, orchid of a woman: Marlene Moon, the silent film star.“
Daisy: (taking Gatsby’s arm) “It’s Marlene Moon. . . I adore her pictures. . .“
As Gatsby leads Daisy, we catch Tom repeating to Nick. . .
Tom: “I’d really rather not be the polo player. . .“ (p.78) “I’d rather look at all these famous people in – in oblivion.“ (p.109)

After Gatsby has concluded their tour, he took them to an “elaborately conceived dinner table“ and sat down to watch the band. There was instant tension between them.

Gatsby: (turns to Tom) “I believe we’ve met somewhere before, Mr. Buchanan. About a month ago.“
Tom: (pauses and profoundly ponders) “That’s right. . . And you were with Nick here. At the barbershop. . .“
Gatsby: “That’s right. See. . . I know your wife.“
Tom: “Is that so?“
Gatsby: “Yes.” (pp.79,80)

“As the number subsides, and the crowd applauds, Herzog appears and addresses Gatsby with whispered intensity.“

Herzog: “Mr. Gatsby sir. Mr. Slagle is here. . .“
Herzog indicates Slagle, a dark-suited man who stands on the distant terrace with three sinister-looking ‘associates’. Gatsby, so besotted with Daisy that he cannot take his eyes off her, whispers fiercely. . .
Gatsby: “Not now.“
Herzog again silently recedes into the background. . . Gatsby turns to Tom, and gestures to Daisy. . .
Gatsby: “Mr. Buchanan, would you mind, terribly?“
Tom does indeed look like he minds, but a group of scantily clad girls who cavort gracelessly on the other side of the garden momentarily catch his eye.
Tom: “Of course not; I think I can keep myself amused.“
As Daisy takes Gatsby’s arm, she tucks a slim gold pencil into Tom’s breast pocket and murmurs. . .
Daisy: “In case you need to take down any addresses. . .” (pp.79,80)

---

“Is all this made entirely from your own imagination?”

“As Tom fumes” increasing suspiciousness, “Gatsby leads Daisy out onto the dance floor“ and they start their slow dance.

Daisy: (murmurs thrillingly) “Is all this made entirely from your own imagination?“
Gatsby: “No. . . You see you were there all along, in every idea, in every decision. . . Of course, if anything is not to your liking, we can change it. . .“
Daisy: “It’s perfect. From your perfect, irresistible imagination. . .” (p.80)

From the terrace, “Tom and Nick watch Gatsby and Daisy dance. Tom looks around, perplexed by a distant thought“ and utters right in Nick’s face: “I wonder where the devil he met Daisy. . .?“ (p.80) Nick lies by omission simply by not telling his agitated companion a thing and this constitutes the first (documented) instance in which Nick compromises his integrity with respect to his second moral dilemma. In addition, it’s rather surprising and testimony of his superficiality that Tom failed to ask Nick–Daisy’s cousin and acquaintance of Gatsby–any direct questions.

Why did he not do so? Why so shallow? What held him back? Could it perhaps be that Tom was afraid to dig deeper into another man’s affairs because he would suffer from the general (karmic) fear that the other man–in a spirit of reasonable defensiveness–might do the same to him? After all, if this were to take place then Tom might risk being unmasked as a man who was having extramarital sexual liaisons and as such would be revealed as being an unworthy husband to a wife who would deserve better than that. (. . . and so, if she only deserved it, then why shouldn’t she be open to attention from other men?) Understandably so, to even be liable to be questioned about having a kind of sex-life that didn’t involve his better half would likely already be unattractive-enough a prospect for Tom as is, and so why bother risking getting into the kind of questions which in reciprocity are a wee bit too painful in a very personal way? — why not just let sleeping dogs lie?

When Tom “notices Marlene Moon seductively, secretly watching him“, he brusquely tells Nick, “I’ll find you. . .“ (pp.80,1) and dashes off, as if suddenly under the tyrannical spell of his own troublesome little head.

“Nick watches as Gatsby simultaneously leads Daisy from the dance floor. . . Daisy runs ahead, playfully hurrying past the low-hanging branches of the massive tree. She disappears inside. . . Gatsby follows, but upon entering the secluded, starlit world sees no sign of Daisy. Then, from out of the shadows, the sparkle of jewels. . . Gatsby turns, and Daisy’s lips suddenly find his. A long, still kiss. . . Nick is keeping watch, gazing down to his yard and the tree“ when suddenly an animated Tom appears . . .

Tom: “Have you seen my wife. . .?“
Startled, Nick turns. . .
Nick: (lies) “Ah. . . no. . . Not for awhile.“
Tom: “That’s funny. The Senator said he saw her down here.” (p.81)

Nick now has lied to Tom twice. By having borne false witness to Tom twice, this means that Nick has (or better yet his conscience has, his Absolute Natural conscience to be exact) incurred a double dose of guilt with respect to what regardless is still a neighbor of his. With every such transgression committed by Nick against Tom, the invisible gap of intimacy between them gets wider and wider in the sense that the odds for true brotherly intimacy with Tom get smaller and smaller. Specifically, with every lie that he tells Tom, Nick’s fears for a Tom catching up to his expansive deceit would naturally rise. With every lie that he tells the other, Nick increasingly has to fear being reprimanded by Tom for it — this is a progressive source of anticipatory stress for a Nick who treats his neighbor named Tom Buchanan with implicit scorn by belittlingly refusing him access to the truth (as if Mr Buchanan were but a little boy nosing around in affairs belonging to grown-ups, matters which were out of his league, above his “pay-grade”, matters that were none of his business — the snot-nose he would be).

A progressive deterioration of Nick’s relationship with Tom is the price he has to pay for keeping his cousin-in-law in the dark as to Gatsby’s as-of-yet secret agenda to deprive the man of his wife.

---

“Tom follows Nick’s gaze down toward the tree. . . Gatsby and Daisy continue their passionate kissing. . . After a moment, Daisy whispers.“

Daisy: “I. . . I wish we could just run away.“
Gatsby is startled.
Gatsby: “Run away? Darling, no. Daisy, that. . . that wouldn’t be. . . respectable.” (pp.81,2)

“Tom is still looking to the tree.“

Tom: (quizzically) “You live near here Nick. . .?“
Nick, in an overwhelming sense of guilt, indicates vaguely in the direction of the tree.
Nick: “Just next door.“
Tom: “That so. . .?” (p.82)

In the meanwhile, down under Nick’s tree, “Gatsby continues“ his moment of truth with Daisy, “We’re going to live here, in this house, together. You and me. . . Daisy. . . It’s time for you to tell Tom.” (p.82)

Back to Nick and Tom, the former experiences “a moment of extreme tension as he fears Tom will investigate further.“ However, suddenly their “attention is drawn to a commotion on the terrace. Glasses smash, a woman screams, and through the crowd, we see Slagle and associates causing a disturbance.“ As he–in a mood of “pure disdain“–beholds the ongoing altercation from a distance, Tom makes up his mind to go and browse around: “What a circus. . . Well, if you see her, I’ll be looking for her. You tell her.” (p.82)

In the meantime, the encounter between Daisy and Jay has lost its initial romantic ambiance and the “hidden lovers speak in intense, hushed tones.“

Daisy: “Remember how much fun we used to have? Why can’t we just have fun like that again?“
Gatsby, frustrated, is about to speak. . . But Nick suddenly appears out of the shadows. . . Gatsby and Daisy break off, startled. . .
Daisy: “Oh hello Nicky; we’re having a row.“
Nick: “What about?“
Daisy glides toward him. . .
Daisy: “About things. . . About the future. . .“
Nick: “Well, it’s Tom. He’s wandering around the party looking for you.“
Daisy flashes Gatsby an over-the-shoulder glance; when, suddenly, Herzog appears. . .
Herzog: (murmurs) “Sir; it’s Mr. Slagle; he’s quite. . . emotional.“
A tiny, ruffled, moment; then Gatsby elegantly guides Daisy toward Nick.
Gatsby: “Excuse me. Nick, would you mind, terribly?” (p.83)

“As Gatsby follows Herzog back toward the castle“”to deal with a dispute of some sort“, “Nick and Daisy return to a party that has become grotesque; drunken girls haphazardly bang drums. . .” “Daisy waited. . .“ but after a while felt “dejected” when Jay failed to return. “Gatsby was unable to return“ because he was tied-up in his library, wholly absorbed in the emergency task of trying to negotiate some sort of unspecified business problem that would suddenly have demanded his urgent and undivided attention. His boss Wolfsheim, who was also present at the library, passionately tried to get his point across to his dear younger “business associate”: “When these hot headed types appear, I rely on you. . . But you were not available.. A scene was made. . . What’s going on with you Jay?” (p.84) What’s going on is that Gatsby’s attention, whereas before could be invested into business affairs in almost undivided fashion, it now has to cater to a new potentially-conflicting chief interest.

As the party is drawing to its close, Nick and Daisy return inside and walk over to the front gate to meet with Tom, who already had been waiting for their black limousine to pick them up.

Tom: (demanding) “Where were you?“
Daisy: “With Nicky. Mr. Gatsby was showing us the grounds.” (p.84)
Tom: “Who is this Gatsby anyhow?” “Some big bootlegger?“
Nick: “Where’d you hear that?“
Tom: “I didn’t hear it. I imagined it. A lot of these newly rich people are just big bootleggers, you know.“
Nick: (shortly) “Not Gatsby“.
Tom: “Well, he certainly must have strained himself to get this menagerie together.“ (insists) “I’d like to know who he is and what he does“. “And I think I’ll make a point of finding out.“
Daisy: “I can tell you right now“. “He owned some drug stores, a lot of drug stores. He built them up himself.“
The dilatory limousine came rolling up the drive.
Daisy: “Good night, Nick“. (pp.111,2)

If Nick really did believe that Gatsby was no bootlegger then he could not be accused of lying. Then again, he would have to be rather stupid for believing that Gatsby actually was no bootlegger and was neither someone extremely close to one who was. After all, his parties were fueled by rivers of free booze and such type of supply had to be brought in by necessarily illegal means. Nick also knew–or should know, had he used his upstairs computer–that since Wolfsheim (the “fixer” of the 1919 World Series who was too smart to get caught) was pretty far from kosher, the odds were astronomical that Gatsby himself also was at least some distance removed from kosher. Nick may not have been lying when he told Tom that, according to him, Gatsby was no bootlegger but he just-the-same could have easily guessed that he nevertheless was one. At any rate, he at once found himself in morally-dubious waters by prematurely answering in the negative the kind of question which could very well deserve a positive answer.

If indeed Nick (again) was lying to Tom then it goes to show the extent to which his integrity was crumbling away already. To the extent that Nick was being dishonest with Tom, the tacit underlying assumption defining the way in which Nick was relating to Tom seems to be that it’s perfectly fine to lie and deceive someone who appears to have disqualified himself from knowing the truth (the whole truth and nothing but the truth) by engaging in dishonest dealings themselves. Tom was granted no sympathy whatsoever. Yet in a karmic sense there seems to be some justification to it. Tom himself kept Daisy and Wilson away from the truth as well, and so there would be a karmic quid-pro-quo sense of justice if he likewise would be kept in the dark about certain matters himself, matters which nevertheless are quite critically important in a very personal sense.

Then again, I think it would be a mistake to say that Nick’s deceit of Tom would be justified by Tom’s deceit of Daisy. For Nick to make the decision that Tom’s dishonest treatment of Daisy would somehow morally-validate Nick’s dishonest treatment of Tom would be the kind of decision I expect God to make. Indeed, it would be tantamount to self–righteousness, for Nick to just casually go ahead and judge such karmic matters for himself as if he were God; besides, as the saying goes, two wrongs do not make one right.

As the limousine drives away and Nick disappears inside again, Daisy looks through the back window of the car in the direction of the slowly-receding castle, “her forlorn eyes search for Gatsby behind castle walls. . .” (p.84)

---

“It is late. Agitated and intense, Gatsby paces by the pool, staring out to the green light pulsing across the bay. . . Nick descends the stairs, drunk.“

Nick: “Well there you are. . .! Daisy just left. . .“
Gatsby is not amused.
Gatsby: “She didn’t like it.“
Nick: “Of course she did.“
Gatsby: “No, she didn’t like it. She did not have a good time. I feel so far away from her now. It’s hard to make her understand.“
Nick: “You mean about the party?“
Gatsby: “The party!? I couldn’t care less about the parties! You see. . .“ (shocking intensity) “She has to tell Tom that she never loved him.“
Nick: “What. . .?“
Gatsby: “Yes. Then we can go back to Louisville, to her parents’ house – her parents are lovely people old sport – we’ll be married there. . . You see, Daisy and I are going to and start over, just as if it were five years ago.“
Nick: “I wouldn’t ask too much of her. . .“
Gatsby: “Ask too much?“
Nick: “No.“
Gatsby grows suddenly, strangely emotional. He turns his back to Nick to compose himself.
Gatsby: “I beg your pardon old sport. It’s just. . . It’s so sad because it’s so hard to make her understand, and–“
Nick: “Jay. . . You can’t repeat the past.“
Gatsby wheels around. . .
Gatsby: “Can’t repeat the past?“
Nick: “No.“
Gatsby: “Why of course you can. Of course you can. You’ll see. I am going to fix things just the way they were before. Everything’s been so confused since then. . .” “If I could just get back to the start. . . If I could just get back to the start I could find it again.” (pp.85-7)

In order to clarify the “vision of himself that he had put into loving Daisy“, Gatsby takes Nick back on a flashback to a fateful event which happened five years ago when he “found himself at Daisy’s house by colossal accident.”

Gatsby: “I went to her house first with some of the other officers from Camp Taylor. . . I’d never been in such a beautiful house before. . .“
Inside the house decorated with banners in support of the American war effort, there are pretty Southern girls and fresh-faced soldiers, dancing, clapping. . .
Daisy rushes up the steps, and looks back. . . At the bottom of the steps, smiling up, is: the object of her affection, Young Gatsby in officer’s uniform.
Nick: (narrating) “But his uniform hid the truth. That he was a penniless young man with only that grand vision of himself.“
Daisy’s Mother stops her on the steps.
Daisy‘s Mother: “Daisy, don’t scamper.“ (whispers) “There’s so many dashing young officers here, and from such illustrious family’s. . .“
Gatsby watches Daisy ascend. . .
Gatsby: “I always knew that I could climb. . . But I could only climb if I climbed alone.“
Against his better judgement he follows Daisy up the stairs and they have a secret rendez-vous in the conservatory of the house.
Nick: (narrating) “He knew that if he kissed this girl his mind would never again be free to romp like. . . the mind of God. . . That falling in love would change his destiny. . . forever.“
Gatsby: “And then I just let myself go.“
With sudden resolve Gatsby kisses Daisy. . . In ravenous embrace, they fall onto the long sofa lounge.
Nick: (narrating) “She blossomed for him like a flower. . . And the incarnation was complete.” (pp.87-9)

After the flashback has ended, a visibly-tormented Gatsby laments, “I knew it was a great mistake for a man like me to fall in love. A great mistake. I’m only 32. . . I might still be a great man if I could only forget that I once lost Daisy. But my life, old sport, my life has got to be like this. . .” He makes a gesture with his hand tracing a seemingly ever-ascending shooting star. “It’s got to keep going up.” “She has to go to Tom and tell him she never loved him. . . I need to give her more time. I just need to give her more time. . . He turns to Nick, reassuring both of them. Don’t worry old sport, don’t worry. I can protect her here. Good night old sport. . .“ When Gatsby leaves Nick to go inside his all partied-out castle, he turns and with characteristic immoderate optimism assures the other, “You’re wrong about the past, old sport. . .!” “You’re wrong.” (pp.89,90)

“If I could just get back to the start, I could find it again.”