THE GREAT GATSBY
By F. Scott Fitzgerald.
By F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Scott Fitzgerald Looks Into Middle Age
By EDWIN CLARK
Published by THE NEW YORK TIMES
April 19, 1925
|
|
THE
GREAT GATSBY
By F. Scott Fitzgerald. |
Of the many new writers that sprang into notice with
the advent of the post-war period, Scott Fitzgerald has remained the steadiest
performer and the most entertaining. Short stories, novels and a play have
followed with consistent regularity since he became the philosopher of the
flapper with "This Side of Paradise." With shrewd observation and
humor he reflected the Jazz Age. Now he has said farewell to his
flappers-perhaps because they have grown up-and is writing of the older sisters
that have married. But marriage has not changed their world, only the locale of
their parties. To use a phrase of Burton Rascoe's-his hurt romantics are still
seeking that other side of paradise. And it might almost be said that "The
Great Gatsby" is the last stage of illusion in this absurd chase. For
middle age is certainly creeping up on Mr. Fitzgerald's flappers.
In all great arid spots nature provides an oasis. So
when the Atlantic seaboard was hermetically sealed by law, nature provided an
outlet, or inlet rather, in Long Island. A place of innate natural charm, it
became lush and luxurious under the stress of this excessive attention, a seat
of festive activities. It expresses one phase of the great grotesque spectacle
of our American scene. It is humor, irony, ribaldry, pathos and loveliness. Out
of this grotesque fusion of incongruities has slowly become conscious a new
humor-a strictly American product. It is not sensibility, as witness the
writings of Don Marquis, Robert Benchley and Ring Lardner. It is the spirit of
"Processional" and Donald Douglas's "The Grand Inquisitor":
a conflict of spirituality set against the web of our commercial life. Both
boisterous and tragic, it animates this new novel by Mr. Fitzgerald with
whimsical magic and simple pathos that is realized with economy and restraint.
The story of Jay Gatsby of West Egg is told by Nick
Caraway, who is one of the legion from the Middle West who have moved on to New
York to win from its restless indifference-well, the aspiration that arises in
the Middle West-and finds in Long Island a fascinating but dangerous
playground. In the method of telling, "The Great Gatsby" is
reminiscent of Henry James's "Turn of the Screw." You will recall
that the evil of that mysterious tale which so endangered the two children was
never exactly stated beyond suggested generalization. Gatsby's fortune,
business, even his connection with underworld figures, remain vague
generalizations. He is wealthy, powerful, a man who knows how to get things
done. He has no friends, only business associates, and the throngs who come to
his Saturday night parties. Of his uncompromising love-his love for Daisy
Buchanan-his effort to recapture the past romance-we are explicitly informed.
This patient romantic hopefulness against existing conditions symbolizes
Gatsby. And like the "Turn of the Screw," "The Great
Gatsby" is more a long short story than a novel.
Nick Carraway had known Tom Buchanan at New Haven.
Daisy, his wife, was a distant cousin. When he came East Nick was asked to call
at their place at East Egg. The post-war reactions were at their height-every
one was restless-every one was looking for a substitute for the excitement of
the war years. Buchanan had acquired another woman.
Daisy was bored, broken in
spirit and neglected. Gatsby, his parties and his mysterious wealth were the
gossip of the hour. At the Buchanans Nick met Jordan Baker; through them both
Daisy again meets Gatsby, to whom she had been engaged before she married
Buchanan. The inevitable consequence that follows, in which violence takes its
toll, is almost incidental, for in the overtones-and this is a book of potent
overtones-the decay of souls is more tragic. With sensitive insight and keen
psychological observation, Fitzgerald discloses in these people a meanness of
spirit, carelessness and absence of loyalties. He cannot hate them, for they
are dumb in their insensate selfishness, and only to be pitied. The philosopher
of the flapper has escaped the mordant, but he has turned grave. A curious
book, a mystical, glamourous story of today. It takes a deeper cut at life than
hitherto has been enjoyed by Mr. Fitzgerald. He writes well-he always has-for
he writes naturally, and his sense of form is becoming perfected.
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário