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The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

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3.14

(65)
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Published by Simon and Schuster
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s third book, stands as the supreme achievement of his career. This exemplary novel of the Jazz Age has been acclaimed by generations of readers. The story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan, of lavish parties on Long Island at a time when The New York Times noted “gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,” it is an exquisitely crafted tale of America in the 1920s, and one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s third book, stands as the supreme achievement of his career. This exemplary novel of the Jazz Age has been acclaimed by generations of readers. The story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan, of lavish parties on Long Island at a time when The New York Times noted “gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,” it is an exquisitely crafted tale of America in the 1920s, and one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.

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Publish date: Apr 23, 2013
Added to Scribd: Mar 14, 2013
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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12/10/2014

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I
n my younger 
and more vulnerable years my father gaveme some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind eversince.“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me,“just remember that all the people in this world havent hadthe advantages that you’ve had.”He didnt say any more, but we’ve always been unusuallcommunicative in a reserved way, and I understood that hemeant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’minclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened upmany curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detectand attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normalperson, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secretgriefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences wereunsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, ora hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign thatan intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the
CHAPTER I
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intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marredby obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snob-bishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelledout unequally at birth. And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come tothe admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be foundedon the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain pointI don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back fromthe East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be inuniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wantedno more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into thehuman heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name tothis book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who rep-resented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, thenthere was something gorgeous about him, some heightenedsensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to oneof those intricate machines that register earthquakes tenthousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified underthe name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extra-ordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I havenever found in any other person and which it is not likely Ishall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at theend; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated inthe wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.* * *
F. Scott Fitzgerald
2

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mathiej added this note
Same. Shame the title's a bit misleading. It's only a sample.

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