Anyone who has ever gone through the American school system should know what that title is referring to; it is the central symbol of The Great Gatsby, one of the most widely read and celebrated works of American literature.
[To anyone who has not read the book, spoiler alert. I can’t write this post without giving away pretty much every facet of the book.]
I remember picking it up less than a month ago with a feeling of trepidation; I’d been looking forward to Gatsby all semester, and I was afraid I would be disappointed. Then I began to read, and I just couldn’t put the book down. And now, looking back, I’m beginning to understand why that particular story is so resonant and compelling.
Jay Gatsby is almost a mythical figure. He exists on a higher plane, seemingly reveling in his own flamboyant, ostentatious version of life. The book’s narrator, Nick Carraway, both despises and admires everything that Gatsby stands for. But the story holds another aspect. Gatsby has attained his lifestyle with one goal; he wants to marry the girl of his dreams. And so, he becomes a gangster and buys a mansion across the bay from his old flame, where he stands every night and watches the flickering green light at the end of her estate’s dock. That light that symbolizes his dream.
But the light is always clouded by mist and fog, and, just like that, Gatsby’s dream finally falls apart. Daisy Buchanan rebuffs him after he and Tom, her husband, fight. So close to achieving his greatest desire, Gatsby falls backward without anyone to catch him. He clings onto his dream until his death, at the hands of a grief stricken man who believes Gatsby was responsible for his wife’s death (read the book). Gatsby dies floating in his pool, looking at that distant green light, as his phone begins to ring.
With that scene, so many different emotions swirl that it’s hard to distinguish individual ones. At the center is fear, that fear that all of us hold, that we will never be able to achieve that one lasting dream. That we will die reaching toward that green light in the distance, knowing that, if given just one more second, we’d be able to finally grasp it. That we will fall backward into the void, our last sight being that glow as it fades from iridescent green to midnight black. It’s a fear of failure, a fear of death, and a fear of never being able to reach what we want utmost from life. It is longing in its most basic form, a longing so harsh that it eats away until there is nothing left.
SONG OF THE DAY: PAYPHONE
And yet, Gatsby’s death is almost enviable; he dies with the telephone ringing, with the hope that Daisy is calling and asking for him to run back home with her. He never knows that it’s only Nick, checking up on his friend. He never sees his empty funeral. He dies hoping, thinking that he’s about to finally touch that elusive green light. But, of course, no one puts it better than Fitzgerald in one of the greatest final pages I’ve ever read.
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
I leave you with that simple thought. Adios.
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