Structurally, there is no doubt The Great Gatsby is a compact marvel. Watching Baz Luhrmann’s film, I was struck by the mirroring love triangles. One is the married couple Tom and Daisy plus Tom’s lover Myrtle. The other is Tom and Daisy plus Daisy’s love Gatsby. Each extramarital couple engages in a tryst, and Nick Carraway is an observer on both occasions.
These similar affairs are also contrasted. Socially, Tom
reaches down to Myrtle, while Gatsby reaches up for Daisy. When the former
meet, it is a haphazard and drunken affair that, at least in Luhrmann’s
treatment, includes noisy screwing. When Gatsby arranges to meet Daisy, the
reunion is tightly choreographed and leads to quiet conversation. These
encounters show the difference in the two men’s characters: Tom loses his
temper and grows violent, but Gatsby maintains control even under duress.
Fitzgerald and his cinematic interpreters also make heavy
use of echoes. Tom and Daisy’s marriage is regularly interrupted by phone calls
from his mistress. Daisy and Gatsby’s relationship is disturbed by phone calls
from his business partners. When Nick first attends a party at Gatsby’s
mansion, he witnesses a fender-bender involving drunken revelers, and of
course, this is foreshadowing for the deadly accident toward the end.
The latter accident is a good car accident. The Car Accident
has long been a deus ex machina for
many a pretentious author and filmmaker. Just when all the plots and subplots
have tied themselves into a knot--bam!--one
of the characters is in a car accident. It’s shocking, tragic, easy and can cut
through any dramatic impasse. Say what you will about Ayn Rand, but in The Art of Fiction she wrote that random
accidents are the perfect tool for a lazy writer, and she was right.
The Car Accident in The
Great Gatsby is coincidental, but it doesn’t come out of nowhere for the reader because
Fitzgerald has laid groundwork. As mentioned, a previous accident
foreshadows it, and automobiles and the danger they present appear as a motif
throughout the book, such as when Gatsby takes Carraway for a wild ride into
the city. Decisions made by various characters lead to the victim running out
into the street, as well as to who is riding with whom and who is driving when
the hit-and-run occurs. Then, the accident itself leads the characters to decisions that
further define them.
Also skillful is the pairing of opposites through which
Fitzgerald pulled within this book as much of Roaring-Twenties America as
possible: fidelity and infidelity, self-control and self-abandonment, true love
and false, city and country, black and white, rich and poor.
All of that is very well and good, but marveling at the structure of a book isn’t the same as grasping its essence. Like Odysseus, I’m still trapped in the darkness of the giant’s lair, wracking my brains for a way into the light.
A cover from 1925:
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