The Great Gatsby-CHAPTER 1笔记(仅供参考)
伟大的盖茨比 the great gatsby
Everything seemed to be feasible through modern technology. New technologies, especially automobiles, moving pictures and radio proliferated “modernity” to a large part of the population.
Characters and their relationships
Daisy
ex-lover
murderer
Gatsby
neighbor husband
Wilson
wife
Nick
Myrtle To m
mistress
previous plots
• 第一章 “我”初到西卵，与黛西、汤姆及贝克共进晚餐； • 第二章 初见汤姆情妇茉特尔； • 第三章 受邀参加宴会，初识盖茨比； • 第四章 了解到盖茨比与黛西之间的往事； • 第五章 在“我”的帮助下，盖茨比与黛西最终相见； • 第六章 黛西与汤姆参加盖茨比的宴会；
What if?
• What will happen if gatsby didn't tell Tom the relationship between Daisy and him?
Thank you!
• 2.What does Gatsby say Daisy’s voice like? (B) • A.music • B.money • C.the ocean • a telephone
• 3.What does Gatsby want from his relationship with Daisy? (C) • A.He is satisfied if Daisy leaves his husband. • B.He is satisfied if Daisy and himself remain lovers, although he is fine with Daisy remaining married to Tom. • C.He is satisfied only if Daisy renounces（声明放弃）any feelings for Tom and says that she has never loved Tom. • D.One meeting was enough for Gatsby; his dream has been fulfilled.
了不起的盖茨比 The Great Gatsby
The Great GatsbyChapter 1Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,Till she cry "Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,I must have you!"--THOMAS PARKE D'INVILLIERSChapter 1In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since."Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."He didn't say any more but we've always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence I'm inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret grieves of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought--frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon--for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by 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 snobbishly repeat a sense of the fundamental decencies is parceled out unequally at birth.And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point I don't care what it's founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction--Gatsby who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the "creative temperament"--it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No--Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this middle-western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan and we have a tradition that we're descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather's brother who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.I never saw this great-uncle but I'm supposed to look like him--with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in Father's office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as theGreat War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm center of the world the middle-west now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe--so I decided to go east and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep-school for me and finally said, "Why--yees" with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year and after various delays I came east, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.The practical thing was to find rooms in the city but it was a warm season and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog, at least I had him for a few days until he ran away, and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road."How do you get to West Egg village?" he asked helplessly.I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood.And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees--just as things grow in fast movies--I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides.I was rather literary in college--one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the "Yale News"--and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the "well-rounded man." This isn't just an epigram--life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals--like the egg in the Columbus story they are both crushed flat at the contact end--but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.I lived at West Egg, the--well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard--it was a factual imitation of some H?tel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby's mansion.Or rather, as I didn't know Mr. Gatsby it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eye-sore, but it was a small eye-sore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbor's lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires--all for eighty dollars a month.Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed and I'd known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven--a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family were enormously wealthy--even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach--but now he'd left Chicago and come east in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance he'd brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest.It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.Why they came east I don't know. They had spent a year in France, for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn't believe it--I had no sight into Daisy's heart but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking a little wistfully for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red and white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens--finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy, straw haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner.Two shining, arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body--he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage--a cruel body.His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked--and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts."Now, don't think my opinion on these matters is final," he seemed to say, "just because I'm stronger and more of a man than you are." We were in the same Senior Society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch."I've got a nice place here," he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.Turning me around by one arm he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snub-nosed motor boat that bumped thetide off shore."It belonged to Demaine the oil man." He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. "We'll go inside."We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end.The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling--and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall.Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless and with her chin raised a little as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it--indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise--she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression--then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room."I'm p-paralyzed with happiness."She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had.She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker.(I've heard it said that Daisy's murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)At any rate Miss Baker's lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped her head back again--the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth--but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered "Listen," a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love through me."Do they miss me?" she cried ecstatically."The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath and there's a persistent wail all night along the North Shore.""How gorgeous! Let's go back, Tom. Tomorrow!" Then she added irrelevantly, "You ought to see thebaby.""I'd like to.""She's asleep. She's two years old. Haven't you ever seen her?""Never.""Well, you ought to see her. She's----"Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder."What you doing, Nick?""I'm a bond man.""Who with?"I told him."Never heard of them," he remarked decisively.This annoyed me."You will," I answered shortly. "You will if you stay in the East.""Oh, I'll stay in the East, don't you worry," he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more."I'd be a God Damned fool to live anywhere else."At this point Miss Baker said "Absolutely!" with such suddenness that I started--it was the first word she uttered since I came into the room.Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room."I'm stiff," she complained, "I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.""Don't look at me," Daisy retorted. "I've been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.""No, thanks," said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry, "I'm absolutely in training." Her host looked at her incredulously."You are!" He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. "How you ever get anything done is beyond me."I looked at Miss Baker wondering what it was she "got done." I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before."You live in West Egg," she remarked contemptuously. "I know somebody there.""I don't know a single----""You must know Gatsby.""Gatsby?" demanded Daisy. "What Gatsby?"Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored porch open toward the sunset where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind."Why CANDLES?" objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. "In two weeks it'll be the longest day in the year."She looked at us all radiantly. "Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.""We ought to plan something," yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed."All right," said Daisy. "What'll we plan?" She turned to me helplessly."What do people plan?"Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger."Look!" she complained. "I hurt it."We all looked--the knuckle was black and blue."You did it, Tom," she said accusingly. "I know you didn't mean to but you DID do it. That's what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great big hulking physical specimen of a----""I hate that word hulking," objected Tom crossly, "even in kidding.""Hulking," insisted Daisy.Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here--and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself."You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy," I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. "Can't you talk about crops or something?"I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way."Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tom violently."I've gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read 'The Rise of the Coloured Empires' by this man Goddard?""Why, no," I answered, rather surprised by his tone."Well, it's a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don't look out the white race will be--will be utterly submerged.It's all scientific stuff; it's been proved.""Tom's getting very profound," said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep books with long words in them.What was that word we----""Well, these books are all scientific," insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us who are the dominant race to watch out or these other races will have control of things.""We've got to beat them down," whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun."You ought to live in California--" began Miss Baker but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair."This idea is that we're Nordics. I am, and you are and you are and----" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod and she winked at me again. "--and we've produced all the things that go to make civilization--oh, science and art and all that.Do you see?"There was something pathetic in his concentration as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me."I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered enthusiastically. "It's about the butler's nose. Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?""That's why I came over tonight.""Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people.He had to polish it from morning till night until finally it began to affect his nose----""Things went from bad to worse," suggested Miss Baker."Yes. Things went from bad to worse until finally he had to give up his position."For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened--then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom's ear whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing."I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a--of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation."An absolute rose?"This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing but a stirring warmth flowed from her as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said "Sh!" in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond and Miss Baker leaned forward, unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether."This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbor----" I said."Don't talk. I want to hear what happens.""Is something happening?" I inquired innocently."You mean to say you don't know?" said Miss Baker, honestly surprised."I thought everybody knew.""I don't.""Why----" she said hesitantly, "Tom's got some woman in New York.""Got some woman?" I repeated blankly.Miss Baker nodded."She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner-time. Don't you think?"Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots and Tom and Daisy were back at the table."It couldn't be helped!" cried Daisy with tense gayety.She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me and continued: "I looked outdoors for a minute and it's very romantic outdoors. There's a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He's singing away----" her voice sang "----It's romantic, isn't it, Tom?""Very romantic," he said, and then miserably to me: "If it's light enough after dinner I want to take you down to the stables."The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at every one and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn't guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking but Idoubt if even Miss Baker who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy skepticism was able utterly to put this fifth guest's shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing--my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police.The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.Daisy took her face in her hands, as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl."We don't know each other very well, Nick," she said suddenly."Even if we are cousins. You didn't come to my wedding.""I wasn't back from the war.""That's true." She hesitated. "Well, I've had a very bad time, Nick, and I'm pretty cynical about everything."Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she didn't say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter."I suppose she talks, and--eats, and everything.""Oh, yes." She looked at me absently. "Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?""Very much.""It'll show you how I've gotten to feel about--things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. 'All right,' I said, 'I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool--that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.""You see I think everything's terrible anyhow," she went on in a convinced way. "Everybody thinks so--the most advanced people. And I KNOW.I've been everywhere and seen everything and done everything."Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom's, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. "Sophisticated--God, I'm sophisticated!"The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said.It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the "Saturday Evening Post"--the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamp-light, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand."To be continued," she said, tossing the magazine on the table, "in our very next issue."Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up."Ten o'clock," she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. "Time for this good girl to go to。
The Great Gatsby 英文读书笔记
The Great Gatsby1、“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,”he told me,“just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”2、He didn’t say any more,but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way,and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that.3、Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes,but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on.4、I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.5、some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life6、No-Gatsby turned out all right at the end;it is what preyed on Gatsby,what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.7、It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man,more recently arrived than I,stopped me on the road.8、And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees,just as things grow in fast movies,I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.9、This isn’t just an epigram-life is much more successfully looked at from a single window,after all.10、It was a matter of chance that......11、I had no sight into Daisy’s heart.12、......jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens-finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run.13、The front was broken by a line of French windows,glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon.14、Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward.15、Turning me around by one arm,he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista....16、The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house.A breeze blew through the room,blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags,twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling,and then rippled over the wine-colored rug,making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.17、The younger of the two was a stranger to me.18、I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.19、Again a sort of apology arose to my lips.20、For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face,her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded,each light deserting her with lingering regret,like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.21、Daisy took her face in her hands,as if feeling its lovely shape,and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk.22、Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues,and this is mine:I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.23、There are only the pursued,the pursuing,the busy and the tired.24、One thing’s sure and nothing’s surerthe rich get richer and the poor get—childrenin the meantime,in between time-25、No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man can store up in this ghostly heart.26、You can’t repeat the past.27、...but in her heart she never loved any one except me.28、The track curved and now it was going away from the sun,which as it sank lower,seemed to spread itself in benediction over the vanishing city where she had drawn her breath.29、But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it,the freshest and the best,forever.30、They’re a rotten crowd.You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.31、There was nothing I could say,except the one unutterable fact that it wasn’t true.32、They smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness,or whatever it was that kept them together,and let other people clean up the mess they had made....33、So we beat on,boats against the current,borne back ceaselessly into the past.34、All the bright precious things fade so fast.35、I tossed half-sick between grotesque reality and savage,frightening dreams.36、I was within and without.37、A sense of the fundamental decencies is parceled out unequally at birth.38、So engrossed was she that she had no consciousness of being observed,and one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a slowly developing picture.39、veteran bores40、unaffected scorn41、flabby impressionability42、the warm center of the world43、a country of wide lawns and friendly trees44、the young breath-giving air45、among various physical accomplishments46、everything afterwards savors of anti-climax47、take one’s breath away48、in my own generation49、warm windy50、supercilious manner51、a gruff husky tenor52、come forward into the room53、old sport54、pick one’s words with care。
The-Great-Gatsby-CHAPTER-1笔记(仅供参考)
The Great GatsbyChapter 11.foul adj. 污秽的2.dust n.尘土 v.擦灰3.temporary adv.暂时地4.close out phr. 销售，转让（这里指丧失）——What foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.使我对人们短暂的悲哀和片刻的欢欣暂时丧失兴趣的，却是那些吞噬盖茨比心灵的东西，是他的幻梦消逝后跟踪而来的恶浊的灰尘。
5.、易受伤的，易受批评的6.vnlnerable adj.7.turn over v. 翻阅（本文指回味）8.ever since 从那时起I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.从那时起，我就一直在脑海中回味9.criticising（不存在的）校正criticise v.批评，吹毛求疵10.advantage n.有利条件adj.缄默的，矜持的<——communicative in a reserved way 比较矜持的对话（本文指保留意见的对话）deal(相当于plenty of) n.大量的consequence phr. 结果adj. 向以某种方式行事（使···倾向）n. 审判，裁决adj. 好奇的，不寻常的n. 天性（本文最恰当）n. 牺牲者，遇难者^n. 富有经验的adj.经验丰富的v. 令人厌烦的n. 令人厌烦的人或事——in consequence,i’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores.结果，我强相遇保留所有意见（这源于）一种我的好奇的天性并且这种习惯也让我成为了那群为数不多的有经验讨厌鬼中的受害者。
ABookReportofTheGreatGatsby了不起的盖茨比读书笔记
A Book Report of The Great GatsbyThe Great Gatsby is written by Francis Scott Fitzgerald which is published in 1925 and it is popular with the public. The fiction is regarded as one of the most outstanding contemporary American novels as well as establishes the position of Fitzgerald in literary history。
Francis Scott Fitzgerald （1896-1940）is one of the most outstanding writers of the 20th century in the United States. While his wife went in ostentation and extravagance。
Afterwards，her became the mentally unbalanced。
All of them brought Francis Scott Fitzgerald great pain and made his family live beyond their means。
unfortunately， he caught lung disease in 1936 and drank from morning till night. In 1940,he died of heart disease brust in New York。
The Great Gatsby tells a story about Gatsby and his pursuit for the ‘American dreams’. During the World War One， the poor lieutenant Gatsby fell in love with an upper class girl named Daisy。
《了不起的盖茨比》PDF英文版
Chapter 1 In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one” he told me “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” He didn’t say any more but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence I’m inclined to reserve all judgments a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep preoccupation or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by 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 snobbishly repeat a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth. And after boasting this way of my tolerance I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby the man who gives his name to this book was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures then there was something gorgeous about him some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament.”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end it is what preyed on Gatsby what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men. My family have been prominent well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch but the actual founder of my line w as my grandfather’s brother who came here in fifty-one sent a substitute to the Civil War and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on to-day. I never saw this great-uncle but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office I graduated from New Haven in 1915 just a quarter of a century after my father and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me and finally said“Why—ye—es” with very grave hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year and after various delays I came East permanently I thought in the spring of twenty-two. The practical thing was to find rooms in the city but it was a warm season and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town it sounded like a great idea. He found the house a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove. It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man more recently arrived than I stopped me on the road. “How do you get to West Egg village” he asked helplessly. I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide a pathfinder an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood. And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees just as things grow in fast movies I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the “Yale News.”—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window after all. It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are among other natural curiosities two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. they are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. to the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size. I lived at West Egg the—well the less fashionable of the two though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. my house was at the very tip of the egg only fifty yards from the Sound and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. the one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hotel de Ville in Normandy with a tower on one side spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. it was Gatsby’s mansion. Or rather as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore but it was a small eyesore and it had been overlooked so I had a view of the water a partial view of my neighbor’s lawn and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month. Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water and thehistory of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago. Her husband among various physical accomplishments had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance he’d brought do wn a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. it was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that. Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move said Daisy over the telephone but I didn’t believe it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking a little wistfully for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game. And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch. He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body. His speaking voice a gruff husky tenor added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts. “Now don’t think my opinion on these matters is final” he seemed to say “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh defiant wistfulness of his own. We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch. “I’ve got a nice place here” he said his eyes flashing about restlessly. Turning me around by one arm he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snub-nosed motor-boat that bumped the tide offshore. “It belonged to Demaine the oil man.” He turned me aro und again politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.” We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room blew curtains in at one end and out the otherlike pale flags twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling and then rippled over the wine-colored rug making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea. The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor. The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan completely motionless and with her chin raised a little as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in. The other girl Daisy made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed an absurd charming little laugh and I laughed too and came forward into the room. “I’mp-paralyzed with happiness.” She l aughed again as if she said something very witty and held my hand for a moment looking up into my face promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming. At any rate Miss Baker’s lips fluttered she nodded at me almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion a whispered “Listen” a promise that she had done gay exciting things just a while since and that there were gay exciting things hovering in the next hour. I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East and how a dozen people had sent their love through me. “Do they miss me” she cried ecstatically. “The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.” “How gorgeous Let’s go back Tom. To-morrow” Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.” “I’d like to.” “She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her” “Never.” “Well you ought to see her. She’s——” Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder. “What you doing Nick” “I’m a bond man.” “Who with” I told him. “Never heard of them” he remarked decisively. This annoyed me. “You will” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.” “Oh I’ll stay in the East don’t you worry” he said glancing at Daisy and then back at me as if he were alert for something more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.” At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely” with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it didme for she yawned and with a series of rapid deft movements stood up into the room. “I’m stiff” she complained “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as .。
1The great Gatsby
1The great Gatsby – f. Scott Fitzgerald2About AuthorF. Scott Fitzgerald was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, in 1896, attended Princeton University, and published his first novel, This Side of Paradise, in 1920. That same year he married Zelda Sayre and the couple divided their time between New York, Paris, and the Riviera, becoming a part of the American expatriate circle that included Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, and John Dos Passos. Fitzgerald was hailed early on as a major new voice in American fiction; his other novels include The Beautiful and Damned and Tender Is the Night. He died of a heart attack in 1940 at the age of forty-four, while working on The Love of the Last Tycoon.3 introductionsThe Great Gatsby is a novel by the American author F. Scott Fitzgerald. First published on April 10, 1925, it is set on Long Island's North Shore and in New York City during the summer of 1922 and is a critique of the American Dream.The novel chronicles an era that Fitzgerald himself dubbed the "Jazz Age". Following the shock and chaos of World War I, American society enjoyed unprecedented levels of prosperity during the "roaring" 1920s as the economy soared. At the same time, Prohibition, the ban on the sale and manufacture of alcohol as mandated by the Eighteenth Amendment, made millionaires out of bootleggers and led to an increase in organized crime, for example the Jewish mafia. Although Fitzgerald, like Nick Carraway in his novel, idolized the riches and glamor of the age, he was uncomfortable with the unrestrained materialism and the lack of morality that went with it, a kind of decadence.Although it was adapted into both a Broadway play and a Hollywood film within a year of publication, it was not popular upon initial printing, selling fewer than 25,000 copies during the remaining fifteen years of Fitzgerald's life. It was largely forgotten during the Great Depression and World War II. After its republishing in 1945 and 1953, it quickly found a wide readership and is today widely regarded as a paragon of the Great American Novel, and a literary classic. The Great Gatsby has become a standard text in high school and university courses on American literature in countries around the world, and is ranked second in the Modern Library's list of the 100 Best Novels of the 20th Century.4 Writing and publicationWith Gatsby, Fitzgerald made a conscious departure from the writing process of his previous novels. He started planning it in June 1922, after completing his play The Vegetable, and began composing it in 1923. He ended up discarding most of a false start, some of which would resurface in thestory "Absolution"Unlike his previous works, Fitzgerald intended to edit and reshape Gatsby thoroughly, believing that it held the potential to launch him toward literary acclaim. He told his editor Max Perkins that the novel was a "consciously artistic achievement" and a "purely creative work —not trashy imaginings as in my stories but the sustained imagination of a sincere and yet radiant world". He added later, during the editing process, that he felt "an enormous power in me now, more than I've ever had".Oheka Castle on the Gold Coast of Long Island was a partial inspiration for Gatsby's estateAfter the birth of their child, the Fitzgeralds moved to Great Neck, Long Island in October 1922, appropriating Great Neck as the setting for The Great Gatsby. Fitzgerald's neighbors included such newly wealthy New Yorkers as writer Ring Lardner, actor Lew Fields and comedian Ed Wynn.[1] Great Neck, on the shores of Long Island Sound, sat across a bay from Manhasset Neck or Cow Neck Peninsula, which includes the communities of Port Washington, Manorhaven, Port Washington North and Sands Point, and was home to many of New York's wealthiest established families. In his novel, Great Neck became the new-money peninsula of "West Egg" and Manhasset Neck the old-money peninsula of "East Egg".Progress on the novel was slow. In May 1923, the Fitzgeralds moved to the French Riviera, where the novel would come to completion. In November, he sent the draft to his publisher Perkins and his agent Harold Ober. The Fitzgeralds again relocated, this time to Rome, for the winter. Fitzgerald made revisions through the winter after Perkins informed him that the novel was too vague and Gatsby's biographical section too long. Content after a few rounds of revision, Fitzgerald returned the final batch of revised galleys in the middle of February 1925.5 Original cover artThe cover of The Great Gatsby is among the most celebrated pieces of jacket art in American literature.[6] A little-known artist named Francis Cugat was commissioned to illustrate the book while Fitzgerald was in the midst of writing it. The cover was completed before the novel, with Fitzgerald so enamored of it that he told his publisher he had "written it into" the novel.[6]After several initial sketches of various completeness, Cugat produced the Art Deco-style gouache of a pair of eyes hovering over the bright lights of an amusement park. The woman has no nose but full and voluptuous lips. Descending from the right eye is a green tear. The irises depict a pair of reclining nudes.[6]Fitzgerald's remarks about incorporating the painting into the novel led to the interpretation that the eyes are reminiscent of those of Dr. T. J. Eckleburg (the novel's erstwhile proprietor of a faded commercial billboard near George Wilson's auto-repair shop) which Fitzgerald described as "blue and gigantic —their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a non-existent nose." Although this passage has some resemblance to the painting, a closer explanation can be found in the description of Daisy Buchanan as the "girl whose disembodied face floated along the dark cornices and blinding signs".[6]6 TitleThe last piece to fall into place was the title. Fitzgerald was always ambivalent about it, shifting between Gatsby; Among Ash-Heaps and Millionaires; Trimalchio; Trimalchio in West Egg; On the Road to West Egg; Under the Red, White, and Blue; Gold-Hatted Gatsby; and The High-Bouncing Lover. Initially, he preferred Trimalchio, after the crude parvenu in Petronius's Satyricon. Unlike Fitzgerald's reticent agonist, Trimalchio actively participated in the audacious and libidinous orgies that he hosted. That Fitzgerald refers to Gatsby by the proposed title just once in the entire novel reinforces the view that it would have been a misnomer. As Tony Tanner observes, however, there are subtle similarities between the two.[7]On November 7, 1924, Fitzgerald wrote decisively to Perkins — "I have now decided to stick to the title I put on the book [...] Trimalchio in West Egg" — but was eventually persuaded that the reference was too obscure and that people would not be able to pronounce it. His wife and Perkins both expressed their preference for The Great Gatsby and, in December, Fitzgerald agreed.[8]A month before publication, after a final review of the proofs, he asked if it would be possible to re-title it Trimalchio or Gold-Hatted Gatsby, but Perkins advised against it. On March 19, Fitzgerald asked if the book could be renamed Under the Red White and Blue, but it was at that stage too late to change. The Great Gatsby was published on April 10, 1925. Fitzgerald remarked that "the title is only fair, rather bad than good".[7 Major charactersNick Carraway (Narrator)—a 29-year-old (thirty by the end of the book) bond salesman from Minnesota, a Yale graduate, a World WarI veteran, and a resident of Long Island. Neighbor of Gatsby.∙Jay Gatsby (originally James "Jimmy" Gatz)—a young, mysterious millionaire later revealed to be a bootlegger, originally fromNorth Dakota, with shady business connections and an obsessive love for Daisy Fay Buchanan, whom he had met when he was a young officer in World War I.∙Daisy Buchanan née Fay—an attractive, effervescent young woman;Nick's second cousin, once removed; and the wife of Tom Buchanan.Daisy is believed to have been inspired by Fitzgerald's own youthful romance with Chicago heiress Ginevra King. Gatsby had courted but lost Daisy five years earlier due to their different social standing, the main reason Fitzgerald believed he had lost Ginevra.[10]∙Tom Buchanan—an arrogant "old money" millionaire who lives on East Egg, and the husband of Daisy. Buchanan had parallels to William Mitchell, the Chicagoan who married Ginevra King. Buchanan andMitchell were both Chicagoans with an interest in polo. LikeGinevra's father, whom Fitzgerald resented, Buchanan attendedYale.[10]∙Jordan Baker—She is Daisy Buchanan's long-time friend, a professional golf player with a slightly shady reputation.Fitzgerald told Maxwell Perkins that her character was based on the golfer Edith Cummings, a friend of Ginevra King.[10]∙George B. Wilson—a mechanic and owner of a garage located at the edge of the valley of ashes, the cuckolded husband of Myrtle and the one who determined Gatsby's fate.∙Myrtle Wilson—George Wilson's wife and Tom Buchanan's mistress.∙The Contrastive Techniques in The Great Gatsby1 The contrast of scenesThe author gives us a vivid description of various scenes in the novel, among which the most impressive are the sharp contrast between Gatsby’s parties and his funeral and the strong contradicts between the east and the west. These two pairs of contrastive scenes foreshadow Gatsby’s tragical destination.2The East vs. the WestIn one sense, the moral conflict in the novel is resolved into a conflict between East and West----the ancient and corrupt East and the raw but virtuous West. Nick attributes his moral at titude to his Middle Western background. Nick’s experience in the East results in his return with relief to the West: “After Gatsby’s death, the East was haunted for me like that, distorted beyond my eyes’ power of correction. So when the blue smoke of bri ttle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line, I decided to come back home.”(Chapter 9, 236) “Home”, it seems clear, is a place where the fundamental decencies are observed and virtue is honored. TheEast is a representation of sophistication and moral degradation while the West is the embodiment of virtue and harmony.In the novel, the author fabricated the East Egg and the West Egg whose geographical contrast shows the conflicts of different values.Their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilation in every particularexcept shape and size. (Chapter 1, 6)The Buchanans live in white palaces of fashionable East Egg while Gatsby and Nick who comes to New York to deal with bond business live in less fashionable West Egg. East Egg is a paradise for upper-class society. It’s more degraded and amoral. However, West Egg symbolizes hope, promise and reinvigoration.3 The contrast of main charactersGatsby is sensitive and idealistic, almost divine in his dedication to his love and faith. Although his wealth came from his criminal activities, Gatsby manages to hold the readers’ sympathy throughout. The whole-hearted dedication of Gatsby and his sincere belief in what he does make him heroic, and this submerges the unpleasant details so that they don’t seem important in the final outcome.Compared with Gatsby, Tom is sinister and sly. “They are careless people,” as Nick describes them, “Tom and Daisy----they smashed up things and creature and then retreated back into their money or their carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together and let other people clean up the mess----they had made.” Tom is more sop histicated. When he finds that things are not moving to his favor, he is determined to arrange things to suit himself, no matter whom he hurts in the process. He makes Gatsby bear the responsibility for Myrtle’s death. So Tom does not only destroy Gatsby’s idealism, but also Gatsby’s life.Nick Caraway is sensitive and intelligent; he alters his evaluation of others as he learns more about them. He preserves a rational mind that makes him also realize what is wrong with Gatsby. Gatsby, on the other hand, is idealistic and romantic. His personality remains unchanging and static. His view of life remains one-sided and unreal at the end. For Gatsby, the material world has always been amorphous and only the world of dreams essentially real. Born in a society where inexhaustible possibilities seemed to dwell in the white palaces of the rich, Gatsby saw their accumulated booty as the instruments of their secret charm. His dream is timeless and incorruptible, but the woman and the world to which he weds his dream are both mortal and corrupted. So his dream is doomed to fail.4The contrast between dream and realityThe most conspiring contrast in this novel is the conflict between dream and reality. American dream means that in America one might hope to satisfy every material desire and thereby achieve happiness.The cruel reality smashed Gatsby’s dream. Fitzgerald’s comment on the failure of Gatsby’s dream is also a statement on the failure of American dream. The contrast of the dream and the reality significantly indicates a moving away from faith and hope in a world where material interests have driven out sentimentality and faith. What is more, dream, even if it persists, is utterly helpless and defenseless against a material society. It can only be defeated. Gatsby is an example. Owing to his unrealistic dream, Gatsby’s fate turns out to be a tragedy. Because he isn’t conscious of his unrealistic dream of love and he doesn’t correctly handle contradictions between ideal andreality, Gatsby sinks into this kind of u nreal dream so deeply that he can’t wake up. And the final result of Gatsby is surely miserable总结F. Scott Fitzgerald’s distinguishing styles and his creative writing skills are best exemplified in The Great Gatsby. The contrastive technique endows the novel with artistic glamour and profound connotation. The contrasts of scenes, of main characters as well as between the dream and the reality are extremely striking to the readers. These contrasts help the readers to have a better understanding of the Jazz Age, the personalities of the main characters and the American dream. The contrast of scenes shows the readers a vivid picture of 1920s with its surface prosperity and the underlying sadness. “Jazz Age”, “Age of the Flapper”, “Lawless Decade” are some of the labels pasted on the twenties. It is a time of youth, a time of profound cultural and social changes. The sharp contrast between dream and reality not only explains Gatsby’s failure at the end, it also explains the meaninglessness of that age. In a word, these contrasts provide the readers with a panorama of 1920s. And in the contrast, the theme of the novel ----the disillusion of the American dream ----is strengthened. It can be said that the contrastive techniques contribute a great deal to the reveal of the tragic theme.。
The-Great-Gatsby 了不起的盖茨比精讲
In 1930 Zelda suffered the first of several complete nervous breakdowns. She spent the last eighteen years of her life in sanatoriums 疗养院 in Europe and the U.S.
Following his great success as a writer, Fitzgerald and Zelda resumed their engagement and were married in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York in 1920.
They spent money as fast as Fitzgerald could make it. In fact, they spent more than he could make, and they found themselves in debt. Fitzgerald was to spend the rest of his life in a struggle to make ends meet 收支相抵.
.
After being discharged from the Army in 1919, Fitzgerald went to New York to seek his fortune so that he could marry Zelda. By day, he worked in an advertising agency, and by night, he wrote stories, submitting them to magazines. For his efforts, he collected nothing but rejection slips.
了不起的盖茨比读书笔记 Chapter 1-1
Chapter 1Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.in a reserved way 以一种矜持的方式a great deal (of)= much +不可数名词a habit made me the victim of not a few veteran bores 一个使我成为不少老兵暴怒牺牲品的习惯feign v.假装（-ed）be privy to = have a participant's knowledge of 与闻（也作“预闻”）暗中参与并得知内情preoccupation n. 全神贯注；当务之急；偏见levity n. 欠考虑；轻率quiver v.微颤、抖动；使震动 n.抖动on the horizon 几乎肯定会很快发生plagiaristic a. 剽窃的，抄袭的mar v.(-rr-) 破坏；毁坏；损毁；损害suppression n. 压制；镇压；禁止；抑制suppress v.镇压，压制；止住，忍住；禁止发表；阻止…的生长（或发展）snobbish a. 势利眼的；谄上傲下的；恃才傲物的；假充内行的riotous a. 狂暴的；狂乱的；欢腾的；喧闹的exempt from v.使免除，使免做intricate a. 错综复杂的；难理解的；曲折；盘错flabby a. &ad. 肌肉松垂的，肥胖的 n.（肌肉等）不结实，松弛impressionability n.可印性，易感性，敏感性(Page 1)。
了不起的盖茨比chapter1
I. F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (Ware: Wordsworth Editions Limited, 1993), pp.1-16A. Representative Passages1. “Only Gatsby,the man who gives his name to this book,was exempt from my reaction-Gatsby,who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn.If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures,then there was something gorgeous about him,some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life,as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away.”(3)2. “But I didn’t call to him,for he gave his arms towards the dark water in a curious way,and,far as I was from him,I couldn’t have sworn he was trembling.Involuntarily I glanced seaward-and distinguished nothing except a single green light,minute and far away,that might have been the end of a dock.”(16)B. Setting1. Time: “in the spring of twenty-two” (4)2. Location: East, West Egg, East EggC. Main Characters1. Mr. Gatsby:Nick’s neighbour;wealth;“creative temperament”(3)2. Nick Carrawaya. Background:“My family have been prominent,well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generation.”(4)b. Education degree: “graduated from New Haven in 1915”(4)c. Characteristic:“restless” (4), “literary” (5)3. Tom Buchanana. Status:“had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played at New Haven-a national figure in a way.”(6)b. Relationship:a wife called Daisy Buchanan;a mistress in New York.Nick’s college friendc. financial status: “enormous wealthy” (6)d. characteristics: “sturdy straw-haired man of thirty” (6)4. Daisy Buchanana. Identity:Nick’s cousin;had an unhappy marriage;a three-year old girl’s motherb. characteristic:“grey sun-strained eyes,”(9)5. Jordan Baker:Daisy Buchanan’s friend;a slender girl;“play in the tournament” (14)D. Episodes1. Nick graduated from Yale and decided to learn the bond business.2. Nick drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans and I met Jordan Baker for the first time.3. Nick found Tom Buchanan had an affair.E. Imagery1. Gatsby’s mansion:“it was a factual imitation of some Hotel de Ville in Normandy,with a tower on one side”(5)2. Nick’s house:a small eyesore3. Daisy described Nick:“You remind me of a-of a rose,an absolute rose.4. Tom and Daisy’s residence: “a cheerful red-and-white Georgian colonial mansion” (6)。
The Great Gatsby (分章节简介)docx
The Great GatsbyChapter 1Summary:The narrator was born in a prominent family and after graduation he decided to go to East to learn the bond business. He lives at West Egg which is less fashionable than East Egg and know about his neighbor-Gatsby who possess a huge and luxurious mansion on the narrator’s house. One day he drive to see two of his old friends: His cousin-Daisy, and her husband-Tom Buchanan whose family are enormously wealthy. Here he meet Jordan Baker who seems to be an athlete, and have dinner with them. During the talk with Daisy and Baker, he finds some secrets about this family, even about Tom’s dishonesty to this family.Comment:I never imagine that a minor character is more appearance than the protagonist t han I read this chapter. What’s more, during the reading, I was looking forward to more plots about Gatsby. Maybe such method of narration can attract readers and rise their expectation. Actually, it’s a specific way to describe the protagonist in the view of spectator like this.Chapter 2Summary：On the train went up to New York, the narrator is forced to get off with Tom Buchanan, and meet his mistress who is a faintly stout woman named Myrtle and her husband-Mr. Wilson, in an unprosperous garage. Then they take Myrtle to an apartment of New York. Here Mrs. Wilson invite Mckees (the husband Mr. Mckee is a photographer) and her sister-Catherine to have a party. From Catherine, the narrator knows that she had been to his neighbor’s party and is familiar with him-Gatsby. They talk, drink till there burst a quarrel between Tom and Mrs. Wilson about Daisy-Tom’s wife and the narrator’s cousin.Comment:Honestly speaking, I don’t like so much such a story like this, especially the tragedy. Yes, I have guessed that it must be a bad end. In this chapter, I see the hypocrisy, betrayal, cheat, hedonism,inanity and so on. However, I have to continue this book and probably I’ll love this story.Chapter 3Summary:Every weekend, there is always a royal party with many noble guests held in the luxurious mansion of narrator’s neighbor-Gatsby. One Saturday, the narrator has the honor to be invited to witness the magnificent scene. Here he comes across Jordan Baker, and hears so mething about the party’s host-Gatsby from other guests and start to be curious about him. Besides, he also meets Gatsby and has talk with him, he appreciate him very much. After that, he starts to has contact with Jordan Baker and know more about her.Comment：Although so many people attend Gatsby’s party, however, they seems not so much accept and even know him from the discussions of guests. Maybe he is extremely wealthy, he is lonely and annoyed by something unknowingly. By the way, the mansion and party are really luxury and royal.Chapter 4Summary:Every weekend, Gatsby luxurious mansion will entertain a large number of guest on matter what the status and position is. One day, the narrator has lunch with Gatsby and is told something includes the identity by Gatsby, but the narrator is hesitant to believe. Besides, he is begged to do Gatsby a favor and later he know the story of Gatsby and Daisy as well as Gatsby’s expectation from Jordan Baker. That’s why the appearance of unnatural and embarrass expression on Gatsby’s face when they come across Daisy’s husband-Tom Buchanan in the restaurant.Comment:Till now, did I understand why Gatsby set the luxurious mansion in the West Egg which is opposite to the East Egg, and hold such a big party frequently here but never involve himself in. All of these things he did including contact with the narrator is aim to approach Daisy-his past lover. According to this, we can see that he is spoony, sentimental and long situation. However, is it right to insist on something past away though it was precious before.Chapter 5Summary:With the requirement of Gatsby, Nick invites Daisy to his house and asked her to go there alone. Gatsby is nervous and uneasy before and till Daisy’s Coming. Then Gatsby shows them around his mansion, his various clothes, and asks Klipspringer to play piano for them, he is always terrified facing the reappearance of Daisy. They whisper, drinking in the intense passion, ignoring anything or anyone else.Comment:The re is a sentence in the chapter: “There must have been a moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dream-not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man can store up in his ghostly heart.”As we know, Gatsby is crazy about Daisy. In some extent, Daisy is his everything. However, is it still right now? Something has overweight her, which people call it “American dream”.Chapter 6Summary:There are many rumors about Gatsby, actually, he is a son of farmer with some fortuitous meetings. One day, Tom comes to Gatsby with his friends, they receive Gat sby’s invitation but seem not accept him so gladly. Tom is perturbed at Daisy’s running around alone, so he com es with her on the following Saturday night. The party is as noisy and lively as every night before, but people not. Gatsby is desperate to find that something between Daisy and him has been different though Nick persuades him not to expect more like repeating their past.Comment:In my view, the tragedy of love story of Daisy and Gatsby is destined from the beginning. Gatsby thinks he can change it when he becomes powerful and wealthy. But many things like class, status and so on, will never be changed. What’s more, Daisy will not be the one in his imagination. Maybe Gatsby starts to realize it but he dare not to believe it, feels desperate, confused, apprehensive, etc. He is still immersed in the past but can’t recognize the impossibility ofrepeating the past.Chapter 7Summary：Gatsby together with Daisy and other friends go to New York, Tom Realizes that he is losing his mistress for the couple is going to move to the town and knows the affair between Gatsby and his wife. Tom tries to make Daisy to stay with him. Gatsby is extremely angry and goes back from the town with Daisy driving the car that Tom drove before. Accidently, Daisy runs into Tom’s mistress- Mrs. Wilson and kills her.Comment：I think it’s a meaningless thing to entangle something or somebody in the past like Gatsby. However, in this chapter we can see that Gatsby still deeply loves Daisy and he is always keeping watch this house Daisy stayed alone under the moon. And that night, will be the turning point of his tragedy life.Chapter 8Summary:Mistakenly Mr. Wilson thinks it is Tom who killed his wife, but Tom clears it out. When Gatsby decides to take Daisy away, and then knowing about this Tom comes to the Gatsby's to persuade her to go with him. While waiting for the phone call from Daisy about running away Gatsby is killed by Mr. Wilson.Commen t:Nick thinks that Gatsby doesn’t believe that there will be the call from daisy and he maybe doesn’t care it more. He has lost the warm but past dream, which he pays so much for. And now, he may feel how cold and cruel this world is. Nevertheless, everything will gone with the death of Gatsby.Chapter 9Summary:Knowing this entire Nick tries to contact with Daisy but is rejected by her butler. She leaves with her husband without knowing the fact.There is nobody but Nick on Gatsby's funeral. Finally Nick leaves here and comes back his hometown.Comment:We can see that the death of Gatsby is just out of the love. He is ambitious, but finally he is just a simple human with great but selfish love. The more thing I see from this novel is the coldness, cruelty and hypocrisy which are hidden in the prosperity of the city. When he is rich, everyone comes to him but nobody attends his funeral when he dead. This is what the world truly is.。
2020英语高考备战：解读《了不起的盖茨比》-Chapter 1-01
2020英语高考备战：解读《了不起的盖茨比》-Chapter 1-01Chapter 1第1段In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.分析：此句为“that”引导的定语从句，从句用来修饰advice。
“give”后可以接双宾语，”advice”为直接宾语，“me”为间接宾语。
“turn over”原本指“翻身、翻转”，这里指“在脑海中反复出现”。
笔记：ever since自那以后vulnerable /ˈvʌlnərəbəl/ adj. （身体上或感情上）脆弱的，易受…伤害的语法：have been doing一直在做某事翻译：我年纪还轻，阅历不深的时候，我父亲教导过我一句话，我至今还念念不忘。
第2段'Whenever you feel like criticizing(批评) any one,' he told me, 'just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.'分析：这句话告诉大家一些信息，首先“我”的出身还是不错的，家里条件挺好，有一些别人没有的优势，并且从小“我”的父亲就教导“我”，不要随意地去批评别人，所以这也是“我”性格的一个特征，不愿意随便地去评价别人。
翻译：“每当你想批评别人的时候，”他对我说，“一定要记得并不是世界上每个人都曾拥有你所拥有的优势。
”第3段He didn't say any more but we've always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that.笔记：communicative爱说话的reserved 内向的；寡言少语的；矜持的reserve 把…专门留给；把…留作；保留•I reserve judgment on this issue (= I won't give an opinion on it now) until we have more information.在我们得到更多的资讯之前，我暂不对此事发表意见。
读书笔记the Great Getsby
读书笔记：《了不起的盖茨比》读后感了不起的盖茨比》读后感小说的背景被设定在现代化的美国社会中上阶层的白人圈内，通过卡拉韦的叙述展开。
卡拉韦出生于美国中西部，后来到美国纽约学习经营股票生意，并想以此发财。
他住在长岛，与故事的主人公盖茨比为邻，并与之交上了朋友。
盖茨比原名盖茨，和卡拉韦一样也来自中西部，他出身贫苦，但雄心勃勃，后因贩卖私酒而暴富。
他经常在家举办大型豪华聚会，大宴宾客，以显示其阔绰，目的是为了吸引五年前的恋人黛西并赢回她的芳心。
五年前在盖茨比服兵役时黛西曾是他的恋人，在盖茨比去海外参加第一次世界大战期间，由于利欲熏心嫁给了出身于富豪家庭的纨绔子弟汤姆·布坎南。
然而物欲和肉欲的满足并没能填补黛西精神上的空虚与贫乏。
在卡拉韦的帮助下，与盖茨比重逢后好像又旧情复燃。
但黛西已不是原来的黛西，她不再是盖茨比想象中的纯情女孩，而是一个愚蠢、自私、庸俗、美丽的躯壳。
盖茨比的美丽旧梦终于被打碎了，但他还在做最后的挣扎，仍对黛西抱有一丝幻想，以至遭遇了更加凄惨可悲的结局。
后来黛西在一次酒后驾驶盖茨比的车时轧死了汤姆的情妇，却与汤姆一道密谋并残忍地嫁祸于盖茨比，导致死者的丈夫突然闯入盖茨比家中并开枪打死了盖茨比，然后自杀身亡，使盖茨比最终彻底成为自私而残忍的黛西的牺牲品。
喜欢《了不起的盖茨比》的理由有很多：喜欢开头那句父亲的忠告：你在评论他人的时候，要记住并非所有的人都有你这样优越的条件。
喜欢看着盖茨比站在海边遥望黛西家码头上的绿灯，喜欢看着他“以奇怪的方式伸出手臂”，喜欢那种惊奇和热切；喜欢盖茨比豪宅上彻夜不明的灯光，和从花园里随风飘至的音乐和笑声，那样声色犬马，醉生梦死。
以及盖茨比躲在这一切繁华背后的孤独和被压抑的欲望。
喜欢死后的那段人情冷暖，喜欢看着那辆来自另一个世界尽头的汽车来到豪宅门口，却没有发现美好的宴会早已散场。
也喜欢书中的语言、隐喻、讲故事的方式，和精致却缜密的结构。
只有在反复阅读之后，你才会发现原来书中的每个人不仅丰满、独立，而且在无形之中又被归拢在情节的网罗里，成为情节的一部分。
《了不起的盖茨比》读书笔记
《了不起的盖茨比》读书笔记简介：人们总是把菲茨杰拉德的《了不起的盖茨比》与“迷惘的一代”和20世纪20年代的美国联系在一起，因为这部小说艺术化地反映了这个疯狂喧噪年代的时代风尚，对繁荣时期的美国社会和道德进行尖锐深透的剖析和批判。
描述的是一个急速变化的时代，以爵士乐为先锋的新的时髦文化冲击着传统，大胆放荡的服饰和行为成为时尚，物质追求成风，享乐主义盛行；通过写这一时期的人特有的乐观和幼稚，信仰“美国梦”，对未来抱有浪漫的期待，探讨了财富与道德问题。
关键词：迷惘的一代、美国梦、财富与道德内容亮点：1.小说有着怎样的历史背景？2.盖茨比的旧梦是什么？3.小说反映了当时社会什么样的人性？本期推荐书籍：书名：《了不起的盖茨比》原作名：《The Great Gatsby》作者：【美】F.S.菲茨杰拉德《挪威的森林》中主人公说过这么一段话: “对十八岁那年的我来说，最欣赏的书是阿珀达依库的《半人马星座》。
但在反复阅读的时间里，它逐渐失去了最初的光彩，而把至高无上的地位让给了菲茨杰拉德的《了不起的盖茨比》。
而且《了不起的盖茨比》对我始终是绝好的作品。
兴之所至，我便习惯性地从书架抽出《了不起的盖茨比》，信手翻开一页，读上一段，一次都没有让我失望过，没有一页使人兴味索然。
何等妙不可言的杰作! ”就是这本《了不起的盖茨比》，就像是它的名字一样，是美国文学史上一部十分伟大的作品。
第一部分：小说背景这本创作于1925年的小说，奠定了弗·司各特·菲茨杰拉德在现代美国文学史上的地位。
靠着这部小说，使菲茨杰拉德成了20年代“爵士时代”的发言人和“迷惘的一代”的代表作家之一。
20世纪末，美国学术界权威在百年英语文学长河中选出一百部最优秀的小说，《了不起的盖茨比》高居第二位，并被多次搬上银幕和舞台。
在阅读西方文学作品的时候，往往最大的难度，就在于西方文学作品中，通常都有着极为复杂的人物体系。
往往是你还没有翻看多少内容，就已经被又长又多的名字搞得晕头转向了。
the great gatsby摘抄(一)
the great gatsby摘抄(一)The Great GatsbyIntroduction•The Great Gatsby, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, is a classic American novel.•Set in the 1920s, the story follows Jay Gatsby and explores themes of wealth, love, and the pursuit of the American Dream.Key Words and Phrases•Wealth and materialism:–“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagneand the stars.” (Chapter 3)–“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreatedback into their money or their vast carelessness”(Chapter 9)•Love and obsession:–“He knew that when he kissed this girl, andforever wed his unutterable visions to herperishable breath, his mind would never romp againlike the mind of God.” (Chapter 6)–“Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!”(Chapter 6)•The American Dream:–“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. Iteluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow wewill run faste r, stretch out our arms farther… Andone fine morning—So we beat on, boats against thecurrent, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”(Chapter 9)Notable Quotes•“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” (Chapter 9)•“And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” (Chapter 3)•“I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”(Chapter 1)Conclusion•The Great Gatsby remains a significant literary work that vividly portrays the glamour, tragedy, andcomplexities of the Jazz Age in America. Through itsmemorable characters and thought-provoking quotes, thenovel explores themes of wealth, love, and the elusivenature of the American Dream.Important Sentences and Paragraphs•“I’ve been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library.” (Chapter 2)•“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember th at all the people in this worldhaven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” (Chapter1)•“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy – they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other peopleclean up the mess they had made.” (Chapter 9)•“In my。
the great gatsby 第一章总结
the great gatsby 第一章总结"The Great Gatsby" is a classic novel written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, set in the 1920s during the vibrant Jazz Age. The first chapter sets the stage for the story, introducing the characters and showcasing the decadent lifestyle of the wealthy elite.The chapter begins with the narrator, Nick Carraway, describing himself as a non-judgmental and tolerant person. He moves to the affluent West Egg neighborhood of Long Island, neighboring the opulent East Egg, where his cousin Daisy and her husband Tom Buchanan reside.Nick's rented house is small and modest compared to the extravagant mansions that dominate the area. Across the water lies a mysterious and extravagant mansion, owned by a man named Jay Gatsby, who holds extravagant parties every Saturday night. These parties are attended by the rich and famous, creating an aura of enigma around Gatsby.As Nick attends one of Gatsby's parties, he finds himself amidst a crowd of strangers, oozing with wealth and excess. The atmosphere is filled with music, dancing, and an abundance of food and drink. Amidst the revelry, Nick is unable to locate Gatsby and wonders how someone so famous can remain so elusive.Nick learns that his next-door neighbor is none other than Jay Gatsby himself. Despite residing so close, Nick has never actually encountered Gatsby until the party. Intrigued by this mysterious figure, Nick becomes determined to learn more about him.During a private conversation, Jordan Baker, a professional golfer and acquaintance of Nick, informs him about Gatsby's legendary background. Rumors circulate that Gatsby gained his wealth through illegal activities such as bootlegging and being involved with organized crime.As the chapter concludes, Nick spots Gatsby from a distance, standing alone on his property. Gatsby reaches out towards the green light at the end of Daisy and Tom's dock, an emblem of his longing for Daisy, who lives just across the water.In conclusion, the first chapter of "The Great Gatsby" presents the opulent lifestyle of the wealthy elite in the 1920s, introducing the enigmatic character of Jay Gatsby and his extravagant parties. Nick Carraway, the narrator, becomes intrigued by Gatsby and is determined to uncover the truth behind his wealth and his connection to Daisy Buchanan. This chapter sets the stage for the drama and intrigue that will unfold throughout the rest of the novel.。
了不起的盖茨比读书笔记英文版
了不起的盖茨比读书笔记英文版The Mirror of the Social Morality——The Females in The Great Gatsby As an unreplaceable part of the society, females are often considered to be in an unequal status and act a different role from males. By now, they are gaining more and more attention. It’s interesting to analyze their words, their behaviors and their thoughts, because they are usually more sensitive to the changeable society and more likely to react to the change. Therefore, to some extent, they are a mirror of the social morality in their times. In F.Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby, there are many female characters. They are of various personalities: some of them look pure while some of them seem to be hypocritic. However, all of them play a vital role in developing the fascinating plot and fitting in the large picture of the theme. From these females, we can learn how they reflect the general corruption of the morality at Jazz Age, especially the value of money and the hypocrisy.One of the most distinctive subject in the novel is the American values, indicated by Myrtle and Daisy especially when they choose between love and money. To begin with, Myrtle, namely Mrs.Wilson, is the wife of a garage owner George B.Wilson. Wilson loves her so much that he even becomes insane after her death.According to this, she should have cherished their marriage. However, she marries him just “because I thought he is a gentleman”(P41), and she has an affair with T om, a man who even broke her nose. Her choice of husband or lover is not depended on how much he loves her, but merely their status. It is strange, isn’t it? Whether she really loves Tom more than Wilson or not is uncertain, but it is clear that Tom is richer.Although Myrtle lives in lower class of the society, she is always struggling to go up. Unlike her husband, who is “a blond, spiritless man”(P31) without the desire, she is with “immediately perceptible vitality”(P31). So she tries to improve her stat us but in a wrong way of having relationship with a “real gentleman” who doesn’t love her.Compared to Myrtle, Daisy is more god-favored. Born in a relevantly rich family, she marries to a equally rich man, Tom as a matter of course. She loves Gatsby, but could not marry him because he was a man of nothing. She does not accept him later because she has no intention to leave the rather distinguished society to which she and Tom belong. When Daisy and Gatsby reunite five years later, the reason she is moved is not the persistent love from Gatsby, but Gatsby’s lavish shirts. How absurd it is!Evidently, no matter from upper or lower class, both of Myrtle and Daisy worth status and wealthy much more than true love as many people do. At that luxury roaring 20th, Americans treasure money most. Therefore it’s no t difficult to understand why people often trade for some materials at the expense of sacrifying their love, their healthy, or something else valuable. Nowadays, some women still prefer to marry a man with large possessions rather than the one she really love, owing to the appetite of material.Moreover, another distinctively perceivable character should be hypocrisy. Firstly, it could be noticed from Daisy. She likes to dress herself and her daughter in white, a color that symbolizes purity. In contrary, she talks to Nick with absolute smirk and insincerity, she praises at party while she dislik es West Egg, she ignores Gatsby’s profound affection, shirk responsibility ontoGatsby after she killed Myrtle and so on. Since all of these behaviors have no thing to do with pure spirit, the white dress becomes an ironic satire on her. In no way can she be as pure as she seems, neither can she perceive what purity is. She even sees something terrible from this purity that she could never understand, which is the reason why she dislikes West Egg. Similarly, Myrtle is also hypocritic. Even though she is not in upper society, She pretends to be noble. So she lets four taxicabs drive away and finally selects “a new one, l avender-colored with grey upholstery” (P33), she acts like a queen “throwing a regal homecoming glance” (P34) at the arrival at the apartment, and she laughs, talks and revolves with impressive hauteur at the party she holds. She strives to be elegant but only to make others feel lousy. Her sister Cat herine’s appearance arouse s the same unpleasant feeling. She wears heavy makeup with “solid, sticky bob of red hair, powdered milky white, eyebrows drawn at a rakish angle and pottery bracelets.”(P36) Unfortu nately, the restoration of beauty against nature works the opposite way. It doesn’t make her more favorable, but presents a sense of unreal.All of these pretending deeds may seem ridiculous to us, but it is human nature. At times, it may be quite tired to live in disguise. Daisy complains that she is sophisticated. As she said, “I hope she’ll be a fool-that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world”(P24), it’s better to be a simple-minded fool than a calculating woman. However, as a matter of fact, dishonest people are still inclined to wear up a mask so as to attain what they pursue and get where they long for. No one wants to be considered as poor, ignorant, or anything bad, so they disguise by instinct. It’s neither uncommon for vain people to conceal their shabby family background to get what they want, norunusual for illiterate people to conceal their ignorance. In a word, hypocrisy is not only typical among females, but the common characteristic of human race.As the result, none of the females in the novel has a happy ending: Myrtle dies in theaccident, Daisy becomes a fugitive, Jor dan breaks up with Nick, ect. From above, we can safely draw the conclusion that neither females nor men should make wealth and status the only standard of their life. Life is all about trades. We should never trade their love, their marriage, their happiness of the rest life for wealth. It is essential for us to recognize what is actually valuable in our life. It is also important to take money correctly and pursue it in a reasonable way.。
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The Great Gatsby
Chapter 1
1.foul adj. 污秽的
2.dust n.尘土 v.擦灰
3.temporary adv.暂时地
4.close out phr. 销售，转让（这里指丧失）
——What foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
使我对人们短暂的悲哀和片刻的欢欣暂时丧失兴趣的，却是那些吞噬盖茨比心灵的东西，是他的幻梦消逝后跟踪而来的恶浊的灰尘。
5.vnlnerable adj. 易受伤的，易受批评的
6.turn over v. 翻阅（本文指回味）
7.ever since 从那时起
I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
从那时起，我就一直在脑海中回味
8.criticising（不存在的）校正criticise v.批评，吹毛求疵
9.advantage n.有利条件
10.reserved adj.缄默的，矜持的
——communicative in a reserved way 比较矜持的对话（本文指保留意见的对话）
11.great deal(相当于plenty of) n.大量的
12.in consequence phr. 结果
13.inclined adj. 向以某种方式行事（使···倾向）
14.judgement n. 审判，裁决
15.curious adj. 好奇的，不寻常的
16.naturn n. 天性（本文最恰当）
17.victim n. 牺牲者，遇难者
18.veteran n. 富有经验的
adj.经验丰富的
19.bore v. 令人厌烦的
n. 令人厌烦的人或事
——in consequence,i’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores.
结果，我强相遇保留所有意见（这源于）一种我的好奇的天性并且这种习惯也让我成为了那群为数不多的有经验讨厌鬼中的受害者。
20.abnormal adj.不正常的，变态的
21.detect v.发现，发觉
22.attach v.附加
23.quallity n.性质，身份，品质 adj.优良的，上流社会的
24.unjustly adv. 不义的，不公平的
25.assused n.被告 v.指责 adj.被控告的
26.politician n.政客
27.privy adj.个人的，私人的
28.grief n.悲伤
——The abnormal wind is quick to detect and attrach itself to his quality when it appears in a normal person,and so it came about that in college.i was unjustly accused of being a politician because i was privy to the secret griefs of wild unknown men.
这个特点在正常的人身上出现的时候，心理是不正常的人很快就会察觉并且抓住不放。
由于这个缘故，我上大学的时候被不公正的指责为小政客，因为我与一些放荡的，不知名的人的秘密的伤心事。