Chapters 1 & 2 Analysis

Chapters 1 & 2 of The Great Gatsby

            The initial readings of any book by even the most casual reader are vital.  There is no exception with The Great Gatsby.  Nick Caraway, the unpronounced narrator and supposed author of this account merely muses:

“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ [his father] told [him], ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had” (p.1).

            Nick then describes that he is “inclined to reserve all judgments” (ibid), whereupon, he declares that “reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope” (p. 2).   He continues in his tolerance has certain boundaries, and he has an ‘unaffected scorn’ for this ‘Gatsby.’  Yet at the same moment, almost in the same breath, he expresses a fascination with Gatsby:

‘there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life…it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which is not likely I shall ever find again.  No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men’ (ibid.).

Caraway is obviously ambivalent to Gatsby.  These conflicting comprehensions toward this now ambiguous man are something to be pondered throughout the novel.  While we have yet to be introduced to any character in the book, Nick Caraway inserts this opinion, almost tainting our imaginations with the notion that Gatsby is one whom we should recognize as a social paradox, someone who we should ‘scorn,’ but also one who should be admired.  I find this narrative fascinating in the way that it relates to the remainder of the novel. 

Prevalent through the first few chapters, is the way that Fitzgerald influences our opinion of the characters through word use.  For example, Tom Buchannan is described as rough and manly and Fitzgerald maintains this description.  From the initial conversation in the Buchannan home, the virtues and idiosyncrasies of each character quickly become apparent.  Another moment of note is Daisy’s fascination with sophistication:  “she laughed with thrilling scorn.  ‘Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!’” (p.17).  This obsession makes sense of later behavior in relation to Gatsby’s stock of stuff.  She frolics frantically in Gatsby’s palace of possessions, hardly acknowledging him or his progression.  She only does this when persuaded by Gatsby to love him. 

Then, of course, we have the mystical green light which shall yet play a major role in the book, the symbolism, of which, is not fully explained until the bitter end.  The final lines of chapter one end with Nick Caraway looking out to see Gatsby:

“. . .he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling.  Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green ling, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock.  When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.”

This is our first encounter with the queer green light.  This haunting apparition which makes itself a serpentine symbol which pervades the novel in all of Gatsby’s actions and ideas.  The only symbol, which more often manifests itself in the novel, is Doctor Eckleburg’s eyes,  “I followed him over a low whitewashed railroad fence, and we walked back a hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckleburg’s persistent stare.” (p. 24).  The appearance of these eyes will be discussed more intensely in later posts.  We need only know that from their first indication, they are important.

In chapter two, we are flung into the affair of Tom Buchannan and Myrtle Wilson.  As if Tom were somehow admirable from the beginning, any sentiments of esteem for Tom are dashed to pieces, and left in their stead is a cold and biting opinion.  Our fleeting feelings of rectitude are further wafted away in the wind by the subtle and shoddy fabrications of Tom and Myrtle. 

“‘You see,’ cried Catherine triumphantly.  She lowered her voice again.  ‘It’s really his wife that’s keeping them apart.  She’s a Catholic, and they don’t believe in divorce.’

Daisy was not a Catholic, and I was a little shocked at the elaborateness of the lie” (p. 33).

The first two chapters quickly plunge us into the traditional culture of the nineteen twenties.  Our exposures to the practices of the decade are tremendously zeitgeist in nature and contribute to our mental depiction of the novel.  These primary phrases commence swiftly and seemingly every sentence is significant.