Hey Twin,
I came across this today on YouTube and thought it was a perfect way to say “Goodnight, but not goodbye” to our old friend Gatsby while simultaneously getting ready for our leap into Science Fiction.
It stars Bea Arthur and comes from a Stars Wars Christmas Special (just an FYI: my favorite part is when Bea nuzzles with the giant rat–just watch!)
Love, as always,
Jon
Hello twin,
I question your deconstruction of your favored piece of punctuation, the semicolon. Wouldn’t it be more accurate to ask…Is it a comma? Is it a colon. I mean it says it there right in the name.
And I’ve never seen a period placed at the mid-line level..you need to refresh yourself on the rules of Palmer Method!
Punctuation aside I just finished Gatsby…and I believe that makes me the winner of this book. (Not that there are winners and losers here…but I did win..and not that we’re keeping score, but that’s Jon 3 – Justin 2). I have two thoughts about the impact of Gatsby on later cultural touchstones.
That’s what I thought about when I read the end of the book…how about you? I also liked that the only person that showed up to Gatsby’s funeral was the library guy (Moral: Librarian’s rock…thank you very much).
The next time you hear from me I’ll be all Alpha this, Gamma that, and World State all around.
Looking forward to our Brave New Book,
Jon
Let me set the record straight, Twinner, it was not that your last post was sub-par or uninspired. Far from it (cue the slow crecendo of Chicago’s “Inspiration” in the background–sorry this is a multimedia post, if you don’t have access to the song just hum it to yourself, and do not pretend for a minute that you “don’t know how it goes”) it was rather my lack of reading that kept me from posting.
Just so you know Twinner, your posts put meaning in my life. They are my inspiration.
(And cut the music.)
It seems you have learned many intriguing lessons since your last post. Including, but not limited to, the lost art of provocation, the symptoms associated with a ruptured spleen, and, apparently, the location of the exclamation point (!) on the keyboard. The ol’ vertical dash and dot is now your favorite piece of punctuation.
My is now, and forever will be the semicolon (;).
Is it a comma? Is it a period? No, it’s a little bit of both.
I am still one chapter shy of finishing Gatsby, myself. I have plans of finishing tonight.
Well, I will keep this short. More from me later.
Justin
Well Twin Brother it appears that you have leapt ahead of me in reading…I haven’t yet gotten to the Three’s Company-esque Chapter VII…but now I’ll definitely be looking forward to it…if you’re Mr. Roper then I call that I get to be Mr. Furley. Or Larry. No definitely Furley.
Chapter 6 was a shorty… more disappointment blah, blah, blah–Gatsby’s built this whole world for Daisy and she doesn’t like it. I did enjoy Gatsby’s hubris in believing that he can re-capture the past. But you know what… Nick’s right, you can’t recapture the past. Re-reading this book has proved that to me. Whereas twenty-one year old Jon was loving the mystery and decadence…twenty-eight year old Jon is much more seeing the “desolate path of fruit rinds and discarded favors and crushed flowers.” Sigh. Sorry Gatz!
And speaking of Gatsby and the past…wasn’t that a nice trip down Memory Lane back to North Dakota?
Well I’m going to keep reading and try and get caught up with you…I just hope when I get there it’s as good as you’ve promised.
Best regards,
Jon
P.S. How about Nick’s cop-out at the end of Chapter VI (speaking as you were of Nick’s more annoying traits). And I quote:
For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever.
Why even tell us that you almost thought something profound when you can’t deliver?…Nick is such an epiphany tease.
No the title to this blog post was not taken from one of…well any…episode of Frasier (ever) or for that matter Three’s Company. This is my way of summarizing the slow realization that we saw unfold with excrutiating slowness as the true nature of Daisy and Gatsby’s relationship dawned on Tom.
Tom slowly but surely comes to see things the way that they are, and then follows that up with the even slower realization that he is in actuality the last one to know.
Now I know what Mr. Roper must have felt like when he finally found out that Jack wasn’t gay and was in fact one of the swingin’-est heteros in late 70’s California.
And let me just say, I’ve had about enough of Nick Carraway as a narrator. As all of this starts to take shape in the story here’s what our great narrator has to report:
“The prolonged and tumultuous argument that ended by herding us into that room eludes me, though I have a sharp physical memory, that in the course of it, my underwear kept climbing like a damp snake around my legs and intermittent beads of sweat raced cool across my back.” (126)
That’s right, Nick can’t remember the argument, but he does have a visceral memory of a wedgie he had.
Perfect, Nick, perfect.
Now a brief thank you note to F. Scott Fitzgerald for including “Blocks” Biloxi who made boxes. Box-maker, wedding crasher, unwanted house guest. I loved this part where Jordan describes his stay with her family:
“‘They carried him into my house,’ appended Jordan, because we lived just two doors from the church. And he stayed for three weeks, until Daddy told him he had to get out. The day after that Daddy died.’ After a moment she added as if she might have sounded irreverent, ‘There wasn’t any connection.’” (128)
Kudos, Twinner, on your evocative use of the ellipsis in your last post. With each little dot…my heart broke a little more. It was almost like poetry in extremely rudimentary Morse Code.
Oh, and just to keep you posted I am now 2 chapters and less than 40 pages from the end The Gatsby (the jury is still out on its “Great”-ness.) So feel free to let me know what we will be reading next any time.
Happy Gatsbying,
Justin
The title of my post are all possible reasons that F. Scott Fitzgerald hates parties. I feel like Fitzgerald must have some kind of grudge against groups of people sharing merriment in enclosed spaces because each party that he has depicted has not only not been any fun at all (I can solve that problem in one word: Guesstures!) but have in fact made me never want to go to any sort of party ever again.
But then again the invitations aren’t exactly rolling in…
Did that last one sentence paragraph with it’s wistful ending ellipsis make you feel sorry for me? I’m really just trying to manipulate your emotions. Gosh I’m a good writer! (I mean no F. Scott, but that did tug a heart string no?)
But I think you’re charge of Nick as pimp is a little harsh…if Nick is pimping Daisy it’s perhaps the most passive pimping I’ve ever read about. My experience with pimps (which granted is quite limited and probably heavily influenced by stereotypes) has shown them to be very assertive and to have an eccentric fashion sense. And that leaves Nick out.
There was more development of the themes of disappointed expectations, etc. But what I’m really excited about is the appearance of my favorite quotation from the book…it pops up on page 95 in my book…Chapter 5 (or V).
Daisy went upstairs to wash her face–too late I thought with humiliation of my towels–while Gatsby and I waited on the lawn.
Eek! Dirty towels! Nick, Nick, Nick.
Well I’m glad you’re back to reading…I’m ready to finish this book…I’ve already got our next book picked!
Back to the Egg,
Jon
It seems that it has been some time since my last post. I apologize in the intervening weeks since my previous post and this one I think I may be a bit rusty so it may not be worth your time actually reading this, in fact I will give you an out right now, if you feel this is going to be a complete waste of your time no feelings will be hurt if you stop reading….NOW!
I will even give you a few minutes to walk away from the computer before I start writing again….
Hum-de-dum-de-dum. How about this weather? Did you see that fog last Friday? That was some fog.
Okay, now you should have had more than enough time to walk away from the computer so now on to all things Gatsby:
I hadn’t read the book in a few weeks, and even briefly forgot what book we were reading. I knew it had “Great” in the title, but that was about it. Unfortunately, I got half way through Great Expectations before I remembered that I had my “Great” books confused and started reading Gatsby again.
By the way, Pip, Magwich, Mrs. Havisham, Estella and the whole GE crew say hello. Well, all except for Wemmick. (He said he had his reasons and you would know what they were.)
Anyway, I picked the book back up last night, and is it my imagination or is Nick pimping Daisy? Gatsby stops by with his fancy car and his “Old Sports” his offers of lucrative off the books jobs and free lawn care and in the most round about possible way asks Nick to set him up with his married cousin.
It’s enough to make you think that maybe Gatsby ain’t so great after all.
Oh, by the way, thanks for posting the David Bowie meets Der Bingle in the Manor House clip on your last post. I’ve always enjoyed their version of the Little Drummer Boy, but now having the context, it’s that much more moving.
Ba-rum-pa-pum-pum,
Justin
Well Twin I’ve decided to give your Christmas present a little early this year. Now I know you were expecting the usual t-shirt with the slightly inappropriate sloganing that has been a staple of Jeffryes twin gift swap for the past few Christmases (“Kiss my grits” indeed!). But I’ve decided to try something new this year and I’m giving you your Christmas present a little early this year via the blog.
It’s bi-partite so hold on to your socks!
Gift #1: Jon’s Reading Recco’s!
Here’s a list of my five favorite books that I read last year…they should provide you with hours and hours of enjoyment. This is indeed the gift that keeps on giving. These are in no particular order. Drum roll please…
1. The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick
Mostly pictures…but what pictures! This book may look huge, but it can definitely be taken in one sitting.
2. The Drunkards Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives by Leonard Mlodinow
Not often that a book makes me look at the world in a different way, but this one definitely did. It’s also a pretty quick read, but some of the math may slow you down (I know how you don’t like numbers), I know I had to read parts twice.
3. August: Osage County by Tracy Letts
This is a doozie of play…all sorts of drug addiction, weird sexual piccadilloes, and deep family secrets. It kind of reminded me of the play that you and I wrote in seventh grade about the southern matriarch who was funneling money to the Viet Cong through the illicit sale of stolen refrigerators…but this one is actually well written. You’ll be shocked, and saddened and you’ll laugh out loud I don’t know how many times.
4. Two Lives: Gertrude and Alice by Janet Malcolm
Now I know officially you recommended this book to me, but I enjoyed it so much I’m sending it back to you for a re-read. You gotta love that Janet Malcolm!
5. Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith, Careless in Red by Elizabeth George and When Will There Be Good News by Kate Atkinson
Three for one! All great suspense books…Child 44 is probably the best, but the other three are also quite diverting reads.
So there’s part one. I know you’re not reading Gatsby but maybe one of those will trip your trigger.
And now Part 2 of your gift comes to us via YouTube
David Bowie thinks Bing Crosby is the butler! What a hoot! I think this is the most sublimely odd Christmas carol ever sung…The way Bing and Bowie switch emphasis in the middle part of the duet is great!
Oh twin brother you are incisive…all three conclusions you drew from my last post were correct. If Eliza Doolittle can dance all night, why by goodness I could watch her (am I the only who’s perturbed by her misnomer–how about Eliza Doo-alot…for Jon’s heart…but again these are just “words, words, words”). Why couldn’t those ivory tower fat cats at Grinnell see the genius of my parsing of libertarian party ideology through the use of the objective correlative of a well-curled handlebar mustache–the curls represent a laissez-faire approach to the market…anyone can see it!. And I had in fact put down Gatsby (I was waylaid by the new instant viewing feature Netflix has made available to Mac users–now that I’ve watched all of the 2nd season of 30 Rock I should be able to focus again) and lost my copy under a pile of crossword puzzles.
But it’s found now and I’ve read on. I note in your last post you said that you had just finished Chapter 4 and went on to discuss the party that happened in Chapter 3….was this a typo or some willful deception.
If it’s willful deception than I applaud you because deception seems to live at the core of this novel. I think no truth exists…a very post-modern modernism if you ask me (and you shouldn’t because I don’t really understand post-modernism. All I know is that as I read this I feel radically decentered.)
Gatsby says of Jordan Baker
“Miss Baker’s a great sportswoman, you know, and she’d never do anything that wasn’t right.”
But wait a second didn’t Nick just say (in the real Chapter 3):
“She was incurably dishonest”
And Gatsby’s lying about Oxford (maybe) and Wolfsheim fixed the 1919 World Series that “play[ed] with the faith of fifty million people.” And hey weren’t those baseball players great sportsmen too? See radically decentered…and a little sick to my stomach.
Re-reading this book is making sad…21 year old Jon definitely glossed over the unpretty parts of the book and was swept away by the decadence and mystery (that dilettante!) Now I see why the eyes on the cover of my book are so sad.
Well that’s all I have…until Chapter 5,
Jon
P.S. Wait! One more thing..I forgot the title of the post…the beginning of the chapter where he lists all the people who came to Gatsby’s parties…boring right? What’s the point…it reminded me of the litany of ships in The Iliad…which means it definitely got skimmed. And by skimmed I mean I’ve never read the Iliad…j/k! read it twice and wrote a rather stirring paper (if I do say so myself) on Glaucus and Diomedes and the culture of gift-giving…if you’d like me to expound, I will. But my guess is that you don’t, so adieu!
Thank you, Twin Brother, for that edu-taining post. (It’s educational? It’s entertaining? No, it’s edu-taining.) Your thought provoking post allowed me to once again use my close reading skills and delve into the subtext of what you’ve written. Having done so I have come to 3 conclusions:
1. You really, really like My Fair Lady.
2. You are still arguing your thesis from your freshman poli sci paper “That Was a Close Shave: Facial Hair and Socialist Ideology.”
3. You haven’t actually read the book in a while.
I just finished chapter 4, and I will tell you it kind of gave me the creeps. The idea of this huge party that no one seems to have actually been invited to (like the guy in the library says, “Who brought you?…Or did you just come? I was brought. Most people were brought.”). I feel like it’s the party for the damned or something.
Someone cue the theremin, because things are getting a little creepy. (The theremin does make that creepy ethereal music from old movies, right? If not, cue whatever instrument you feel makes creepy music. If it’s not the theremin, for me it’s the oboe. Nothing says “creepy music” like a woodwind.)
And can I just say what a relief it is to have Nick Caraway guiding us through this book. I mean someone with the self-awareness to say of themselves: “I am one of the few honest people I have ever known.”
The really scary part is that when I read this book the first time, i really identified with Nick Caraway. This now begs the question: What kind of jerk was I when I was 19? (This is merely a rhetorical question. There’s no need for you to actually answer.)
Anyway I will leave you with my favorite exchange from chapter 4:
“Whenever he sees I’m having a good time he wants to go home.”
“Never heard anything so selfish in my life”
“We’re always the first ones to leave.”
“So are we.”
This book does crack me up.
Justin
