THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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isbn: 9788027200894
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       Princeton

       Ten Years in the Advertising Business

       Echoes of the Jazz Age

       My Lost City

       One Hundred False Starts

       Ring

       Sleeping and Waking

       My Ten Favorite Plays

       The Crack-up

       Pasting It Together

       Handle with Care

       Author’s House

       Afternoon of an Author

       Early Success

       Preface

       My Generation

       Letters:

       To Zelda Fitzgerald

       To Ernest Hemingway

       To Frances Scott Fitzgerald

       To Maxwell Perkins

       To John Peale Bishop

       To Mrs Bayard Turnbull

       To Christian Gauss

       To Harold Ober

       To Mrs Richard Taylor

       To Edmund Wilson

       To Gerald and Sara Murphy

       Other Letters

      Novels:

       Table of Contents

      The Great Gatsby

       Table of Contents

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

      The Great Gatsby

      Then 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’INVILLIERS

      Chapter 1

       Table of Contents

      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