p>Fitzgerald F. Scott
The Great Gatsby
THE GREAT GATSBY
On a warm summer night in 1922, Jay Gatsby stands in the garden of his mansion on Long Island, looking out across the dark water of the bay. Out at sea is a green light, tiny and far away, and Gatsby stretches out his arms toward this light, trembling a little.
Newly arrived in Long Island, Nick Carraway watches Gatsby from his garden next door, and wonders. Who is this mysterious Jay Gatsby, whose generous champagne parties are famous all over New York? Where did his great wealth come from? The beautiful people who drink and dance all night at his parties are full of wild tales about Gatsby’s past – is he a murderer, is he a bootlegger? – but nobody knows the answers.
At a dinner party with Tom and Daisy Buchanan, Nick meets Jordan Baker, and is soon drawn into the life of Long Island. And as the summer passes, he slowly begins to uncover the mystery that is Jay Gatsby.
It is a story of excitement and violence, of love and despair; a story of bright, romantic hopes and impossible, hopeless dreams …
Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!”
PEOPLE IN THIS STORY
MAIN CHARACTERS
Nick Carraway, the narrator of the story
Jay Gatsby (also James Gatz), a young mysterious millionaire
Daisy Buchanan, distant cousin to Nick Carraway
Tom Buchanan, Daisy’s husband, a millionaire
Jordan Baker, Daisy’s friend, a young professional female golfer
Myrtle Wilson, Tom Buchanan’s mistress
George Wilson, Myrtle’s husband, a garage owner
OTHER CHARACTERS
Meyer Wolfshiem, a gambler, a business connection of Gatsby
Catherine, Myrtle Wilson’s sister
Mr & Mrs McKee, Myrtle Wilson’s New York friends
Klipspringer, a man who is almost always at Gatsby’s house
Michaelis, George Wilson’s neighbor
Henry C. Gatz, Jay Gatsby’s father
PLACE NAMES IN THIS STORY
Some place names in the story are real; others are invented. The story is set on Long Island, which stretches for more than 100 miles east of New York City. West Egg in the story is Great Neck (where Scott Fitzgerald himself lived), and East Egg is Sands Point, the end of the Port Washington peninsula, which lies just across Manhasset Bay.
In the story the East refers to the east coast of the United States, and the West to the west coast. The Middle West, or Mid-West, includes states like Minnesota and cities like Chicago. However, anybody who was not from the east coast might be called a Westerner.
CHAPTER 1
DINNER WITH THE BUCHANANS
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
‘Whenever you feel like judging anyone,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’
He didn’t say any more, but I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. As a result, I usually wait some time before making any judgements. This habit has opened up many strange characters to me, as people are often eager to tell me about themselves. When I was at college, I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I knew the secret sadnesses of wild, unknown men. I hardly ever wanted to hear these secrets – in fact, I have often pretended to be asleep or busy when I realized by some unmistakable sign that a young man was preparing to tell me his deepest, most personal feelings.
Holding back judgement is a matter of hope. There is always the possibility that someone, in time, will turn out well. What my father was suggesting was that we are all born with a different sense of right and wrong. And if I forget that, then I am a little afraid of missing something.
However, I have to confess that I haven’t always taken my father’s advice. When I came back from the East last autumn, I felt I wanted the whole world to be in moral uniform, all living a highly moral life for ever. I wanted no more wildness, no more secrets of the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was an exception – Gatsby, who represented everything for which I would normally have only the deepest scorn. There was something truly wonderful about him, a heightened sensitivity to the promises of life – he was like one of those complicated machines that show the presence of an earthquake ten thousand miles away. He had an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness which I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No – Gatsby turned out all right at the end. It was what lay in wait for Gatsby, what foul dust followed on the heels of his dreams that,
