Five Reads Later...

So, I'm reading The Great Gatsby again. I guess this is going to be an annual series.

I think the first time I posted about Gatsby, I said I was starting to think the term "great" in the title was sarcastic. I don't remember what I wrote about last year, but the post title has the word "evanescence" in it, so it must've been something about the fleeting, ephemeral vibe of the book.

This year, I'm noticing the narrator, Nick, and coming away with a new perception of him.

Nick begins the book with a piece of advice from his father about not criticizing people because they might not have had the same opportunities he's had. "In consequence," Nick says, "I'm inclined to reserve all judgments."

Nick then proceeds to write a book that is nothing short of a collection of judgments.

Nick also says that he himself is "one of the few honest people [he's] ever known," but does things like "pretend to be surprised." He even says to another character that because he's thirty years old, he's "five years too old to lie to [himself] and call it honor." So, he used to lie, at least to himself? He used to justify dishonesty being calling it honorable?

Nick is the narrator. He's the only way we learn anything about the characters. We don't know what Tom or Daisy or Gatsby or Jordan really meant or thought or felt or even said; we only have Nick's version of it.

Nick who claims to reserve all judgments and to be honest, but who judges people constantly and apparently lies under certain conditions.

On several occasions, Nick is sarcastic.

"Do you want to hear about the Butler's nose?" Daisy whispers to him at dinner.
"That's why I cam over tonight," Nick says. Of course, he's not being serious.

"Oh, do you like Europe?" someone asks Nick later. "I just got back from Monte Carlo."

Nick replies, "Really." You can hear the flat, sarcastic tone Fitzgerald gives him. No question mark. Just a judgmental "Really."

Later, chapters after telling readers that Tom dislikes being labeled "the polo player," Nick asks after "Mr. Thomas Buchanan, the athlete?" in a voice, I imagine, loaded with irony.

When a woman has just been struck by a man at a small party, Nick leaves. He takes his hat from the chandelier and walks out the door, tired of the drama.

For a time, Nick has a "short affair with a girl who live[s] in Jersey City," but ghosts her when her brother starts giving Nick mean looks. This is while he is corresponding with a girl back home to whom he's loosely engaged. He's been writing her weekly letters and signing them "Love, Nick."

At one point, Gatsby tells Nick that their mutual friend Jordan has "kindly offered to speak to" Nick about a matter concerning Gatsby. Nick's reactions are as follows: he's annoyed because he doesn't want to spend his date with Jordan talking about Gatsby, he assumes Gatsby's request via Jordan will be "something utterly fantastic," and for a moment Nick wishes he'd never even met Gatsby if this is how things will go. Up to this point, Gatsby has been nothing but gracious and friendly to Nick, and yet Nick reacts with annoyance, judgment, and pettiness—even if it is just in his head.

Of course, Nick is there for Gatsby at the end. Nick applies himself like a true friend and is justifiably upset at the way humanity treats Gatsby. At the end, Nick is one of the only good, true people.

If we believe him.

Nick might be a very fair narrator. He might be showing us his ideals and his flaws because he is honest. He wants to paint a realistic picture of everyone, himself included, even when that makes him look bad.

Or he might be an unreliable narrator. We don't really have any way to know. We have no one else's account of the characters or events. Maybe he tries to paint himself in a good light, but the truth shines through the cracks.

Maybe no one should be allowed to read The Great Gatsby five times.

For what it's worth, I lean toward Nick being a perfectly reliable narrator who doesn't even realize that he might be coming off like an ass at times. I mean, it took me five reads and fifteen years to see it myself.

~ Stephanie