His count of enchanted objects
In her New Critical analysis of Fitzgerald’s most famous novel, Lois Tyson presents the argument that the paramount theme of Gatsby is a sense of unfulfilled human longing that permeates all lifestyles and relationships. Her paper specifically highlights both a nostalgia for a past viewed through rose-colored glasses and hopes for a future that exceeds these wild expectations, as well as an undefinable brand of longing with no particular aims in sight. But as we see the characters pursue impossible relationships, attempt to rekindle struggling ones, and strive to live up to romanticized versions of themselves, it becomes evident that there is really one more specific sort of longing at the center of the novel. Every character grapples with the painful disconnect between idealized circumstances—their lifestyles, romances, and moral characters—and the often-disappointing reality of their situations.
The first of these disconnects comes rather early in the novel, as narrator Nick Carraway informs us both that he is “inclined to reserve all judgements” at the advice of his father,1 and “one of the few honest people [he has] ever known” (64). These borderline outlandish claims are representative of Nick’s idealized version of himself, a metafictional Nick Carraway whose moral integrity dwarfs the socialite class around him. This self-righteousness is indicative of his need to feel superior to the people he interacts with, and of an insecurity that extends into other areas of his life. While the self-assigned commendations are indeed exaggerated, Nick does in a way make an effort to realize them when he takes the issue of Gatsby’s funeral upon his shoulders. He unnecessarily coordinates the event and proves to himself and those who notice that he truly is a great friend, and in this fulfills part of his lofty expectations for himself.
The strained marriage of Tom and Daisy Buchanan is one wrought with disillusionment and waning interest by both parties. The pair were engaged in an almost-loveless union satisfactory to neither, and remained together for only the socioeconomic convenience and out of laziness to remedy their situation. Tom is so disgruntled with their sunsetting romance that he takes up an affair with Myrtle, and Nick deduces that “[s]omething was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart” (25). The lifelong romance they had anticipated—or at least the relative comfort—in their marriage proved an unrealistic expectation, and Tom decides instead to seek out other avenues for amorous fulfillment. Daisy herself is willing to stand by and suffer the shattered idealism of their relationship until Gatsby comes along, offering a renewed passion and an escape from the painful reality of her domestic life. When presented with romantic possibilities to supplant their disappointing legal partners, both Tom and Daisy jump at the opportunity, aiming to fashion a relationship more in line with their expectations for themselves than the one they feel locked into.
Gatsby’s unending love for Daisy Buchanan, an affection aged over the years and punctuated by Chicago newspaper clippings, became symbolized by his obsessive observance of a green light at the end of the Buchanans’ dock across the sound from Gatsby’s mansion. This light came to symbolize Daisy’s inaccessibility, her simultaneous distance and proximity to Gatsby, and a constant reminder that, while Daisy still existed, she did so separate from him. When the two are finally reunited and stand together looking out in the direction of this fabled green light, Nick observes that “the colossal significance of that light [to Gatsby] had now vanished forever” (98). The light represented an idealized version of their romance, crystalized at its most intense and with inflated significance after years of longing. Now that Daisy was once again a tangible part of his life, it seemed impossible for any real experiences to measure up to the imagined intensity shared between Gatsby and his green light. As Nick puts it, “[h]is count of enchanted objects had diminished by one” (98).
This timeless struggle to reconcile idealized reality and day-to-day experiences is touched upon throughout literary tradition, but perhaps nowhere as poetically or poignantly as in The Great Gatsby. Despite their decadent lifestyles and fabulous parties, these characters face a continual battle within themselves to recognize and overcome the disconnections between the lives they’d imagined and the lives they lead. The attempts to recreate idealized lives for themselves—Tom with Myrtle, Daisy and Gatsby—become destructive to every character and relationship involved and, in the end, these efforts to retroactively craft the imagined lives and personages are their undoing.
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Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. New York: Scribner Paperback Edition, 1995. Print. ↩