The Great Gatsby

In my younger and more vulnerable years,

my father gave me some advice that I've been considering ever since.

"When you feel like criticising anyone," he told me,

"remember that all the people in this world haven't had your advantages."

In consequence, I'm inclined to reserve all my judgements.

It was by chance that I decided to spend the summer

on that slender, riotous island that juts out into the Long Island Sound,

20 miles due east of New York.

I lived at West Egg on the, well, less fashionable side of the courtesy bay.

My cousin, Daisy Buchanan,

lived in one of East Egg's glittering white palaces,

with her husband Tom, whom I'd known in college-

They had spent the years since their marriage drifting unrestfully,

wherever people played polo and were rich together.

Nick Carraway!

Nick, it's about time.

I'm not sure how to operate that thing.

If you'd said, we'd have sent the motor cruiser for you.

How are you?

- Is this all yours? - Some of it belongs to Daisy.

- Where's your place? - Across the bay.

Just a little cottage I got for $80 a month.

$80 a month!

Our beer bills at New Haven were more than that.

You forget,

I am now just a struggling bond salesman on Wall Street.

Nick?

- Is it really you? - It is.

My dear lost love!

I'm paralysed with happiness!

Jordan, this is my second cousin once removed, Nick Carraway.

Does that mean we kiss when we greet?

I hope it means we do.

Tom says you've come from Chicago. Tell me everything.

- Do they miss me? - The whole town is desolate.

How gorgeous!

All the cars have their left rear wheel painted black in mourning,

and there's a persistent wail all night.

Let's go back tomorrow, Tom. I love a persistent wail.

Well, I love a drink.

Come on, let's all have a drink.

I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.

You live in West Egg. I know somebody there.

- I don't know anyone. - You must know Gatsby.

- He's my neighbour. - Gatsby? What Gatsby?

Come on, Daisy.

Why candles?

In two weeks, it'll be the longest day in the year.

Do you watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it? I do.

- We ought to plan something. - All right. What'll we plan?

What do people plan?

Look at that... My little finger, it's all black and blue.

You did that, Tom.

You didn't mean to, but that's what I get for marrying a brute of a man.

- A great big hulking brute of a man. - I hate that word "hulking".

Even in kidding.

- Hulking. - Please, let's not start one of those.

Nick, have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by Goddard?

- Why, no. - Fine book. Everyone should read it.

See, the point is that if we don't watch out,

the white race will be utterly submerged... No, that's so!

We, the dominant race, must watch out, or these other races will take control.

- We've got to beat them down. - Daisy, it's all been scientifically proved.

You see, we're Nordics. You are, and I am, and...

Excuse me, sir.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Any Way...

We're responsible for everything that made civilisation.

Art, science, and all that.

I love to see you at my table, Nick.

You remind me of a...

A rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?

You're Jordan Baker, the golf champion...

Don't talk. I want to hear what happens.

- Is something happening? - You don't know?

- I thought everyone knew. - I don't.

Tom's got a woman in New York.

She might have the decency not to phone him at dinner time.

Couldn't be helped.

There's a bird on the lawn.

I think it's a nightingale, come over on the Cunard or the White Star Line.

He's singing away.

It's romantic, isn't it, Tom?

Yes, it is romantic.

It had been a golden afternoon.

I had the familiar conviction that life was beginning again with the summer.

By the autumn, my mood would be very different.

- Goodnight! - Come back soon!

I would want no more privileged glimpses into the human heart.

Only my neighbour, Gatsby, would be exempt from my reaction.

Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn.

For Gatsby turned out all right in the end.

It was what preyed on him,

what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams.

At least once a fortnight,

a corps of caterers came with several hundred feet of canvas

and enough coloured lights to make a Christmas tree of Gatsby's gardens.

There was music from my neighbour's house through those summer nights.

In his enchanted gardens, men and girls came and went like moths,

among the whispering and the champagne and the stars.

I believe few people were actually invited to these parties, they just went.

They got into automobiles which bore them to Long Island,

and somehow they ended up at Gatsby's door,

come for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own admission ticket.

After that, they conducted themselves

according to the rules of behaviour associated with an amusement park.

About half way between the two Eggs and New York,

the motor road hastily joins the rail road and runs beside it a short distance,

presided over by the eyes of Doctor T J Eckleburg,

set there by some wild wag of an oculist to fatten his practice in Queens.

This desolate area is a valley of ashes,

a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat.

Come on in. I want you to meet my girl.

Wilson!

Wilson!

Wilson, old man...

- How's business? - Can't complain.

- When will you sell me that car? - Next week. My man's working on it.

- Works a little slow, don't he? - No, as a matter of fact, he doesn't.

If you're not interested in buying it, I'm sure...

...that I can find someone who is.

I didn't mean that, I just meant that...

I figure I could fix it up and turn a profit.

Myrtle Wilson, this is Nick Carraway. Nick...

Mr and Mrs Wilson.

Why don't you get chairs, so someone can sit down?

Sure.

I want you to get on the next train.

All right.

I'll meet you in the city.

I really could use that car. Think I got a buyer for it.

That's fine... Fine. I'll make sure my man stays right on it.

Nick. Mrs Wilson, nice to see you.

Bye.

Tom!

Hello, Nick.

Stop! Stop here. I wanna get one of these dogs.

I want one for the apartment. They're so nice to have.

- What kind are they? - All kinds.

What kind would you like, lady?

I'd like one of those police dogs.

That's no police dog!

That dog's not exactly a police dog, he's more of an Airedale.

Look at that coat. Some coat!

That dog will never bother you with catching a cold.

I think it's cute. How much is it?

That dog?

That dog will cost you $10.

- Is it a boy or a girl? - That dog?

That dog's a boy.

That dog's a bitch! Here's $10, go buy ten more dogs with it.

- I'll leave you. - No, you don't!

Myrtle'd be very hurt if you wouldn't come up to the apartment.

Come on. I'll call my sister Catherine. People say she's beautiful.

- What about our appointments? - Wall Street will be there tomorrow.

Really, Myrtle, that dress! I think it's adorable!

It's just a crazy old thing. I slip it on when I don't care what I look like.

It looks wonderful on you, if you know what I mean.

I think if Chester could get you in that pose...

I think he could really make something of it.

I'm Catherine, Myrtle's sister.

People say we look like twins, but I don't think so.

I'm Nick. Won't you sit down?

I told that boy about the ice.

These servants! You really have to keep after them all the time.

- You live down on Long Island, too? - Yes, in West Egg.

Really?

I was down at a party in West Egg about a month ago,

at a man named Gatsby's.

- Do you know him? - I live next door to him.

He's German.

Really. The cousin or nephew or something of Kaiser Wilhelm.

That's where all his money comes from.

- Really? - I'm scared of him.

- Why? - I'd hate him to get anything on me.

- What a cute dog! - Darling!

Excuse me, Myrtle, could you come here?

Neither of them can stand the person they're married to.

- Can't they? - Can't stand them!

What I say is, why go on living with them

if they can't stand them?

Come on! Kiss that adorable little thing!

Myrtle's been living over that garage for 11 years, you know.

And Tom's the first sweetie she ever had.

I was on a train to New York, to see Catherine and spend the night.

Tom was sitting opposite me.

He had on a dress suit and patent leather shoes.

And I could see he was a real gentleman.

I couldn't keep my eyes off him.

Every time he looked at me,

I had to pretend to look at the advertisement above his head.

When we pulled into the station, he was next to me,

and his white shirt front was pressed against my arm.

I said, "Well, I'll have to call a policeman."

But he knew I was lying.

I was so excited. When I got into the taxi

my head was swimming.

I felt as if some very tiny, cold, little fish

was swimming in my veins.