In this article, we will explore the intersections of modernism, absurdity and the thematic concerns of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
By: Coach Ken
Jay Gatsby, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, reaching for the green light in the 2013 film adaptation of The Great Gatsby.
Modernism and Absurdity: A Brief (Literary, Historical and Philosophical) Context
The Modernist impulse can be understood as a response to the rapid and major social changes, industrialisation and urbanisation of the Western world. More significantly, the ideas and concerns of Modernism arose from the culturally traumatic events of World War I, where the unprecedented enormity of the war had undermined humankind’s faith in the foundations of Western society and culture. Imagine being in a world which transforms into something unrecognisable quickly, and imagine losing everything that matters to you to an especially devastating war. Rationality becomes irrelevant, for the world makes no sense to you. In the face of senseless violence and rampant loss, the world became an increasingly absurd and meaningless place.
In other words, the general human condition was that of rootlessness, alienation, loss, disillusion, senselessness and despair. As such, a sense of fragmentation and disillusionment with established orders pervades most of Modernist Literature. Such ideas and characteristics are thus, often reflected in the literary techniques of literary texts, such as in the advent of the unreliable narrator (for truth is hardly a stable concept to the Modernist thinker), and the use of fragmented narrative structures, to name a few.
In the context of America, American Modernism was a reflection of American life in the 20th century. In the quickly industrialising world and hastened pace of life, it was easy for the individual to be swallowed up by the vastness of things, left wandering, devoid of purpose. Social boundaries in race, class, sex, wealth and religion were being challenged. As the social structure was challenged by new incoming views, the bounds of traditional standards and social structure dissolved, and a loss of identity was what remained post-war, translating eventually into isolation, alienation and an overall feeling of separateness from any kind of "whole".
The Great Gatsby aptly mirrors these elements of American Modernist thought and life: The novel reflects an American society with loosening gender norms and social boundaries, indulgence in a hedonistic (meaningless) lifestyle, its characters alienated, rootless and restless.
In the next section, we shall explore this Modernist condition in the novel with greater detail.
Nobody Cares, Nothing Matters: Modernist Absurdity in The Great Gatsby
Whilst Fitzgerald showcases the lavish splendour and glamour of the Jazz Age, the material opulence conceals a deeper spiritual hollowness and societal alienation characterising Modernist American life. The most prominent displays of hedonistic opulence are in Gatsby's parties:
"Every Friday five creates of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruiterer in New York - every Monday these same oranges and lemons left his back door in a pyramid of pulpless halves."
Fitzgerald presents the sheer magnitude of consumption through the image of the "pyramid of pulpless halves", where the remnants of the consumed fruits form a tangible and formidable structure.
Furthering this motif of excessive consumption, in a time where the production and sale of alcohol are made illegal (Prohibition Era), alcohol is not only present in the novel, it is copiously present:
"floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside"
Fitzgerald's kinaesthetic image of the cocktails floating around and permeating the space of the novel not only suggests its abundance and infusion into the atmosphere, but ascribes a sense of mystique to his parties as these cocktails seem to take on an mobile agency of their own.
Moreover, this magical wonder is also seen here:
"Suddenly one of the gypsies, in trembling opal, seizes a cocktail out of the air, dumps it down for courage"
The image of the cocktail appearing out of nowhere, "seizes a cocktail out of the air", recalls the surreal movement and abundant presence of the cocktails in the garden, and further contributes to the surreal and otherworldly quality to the party.
Despite the relaxed and ebullient atmosphere of the parties, there is a striking sense of alienation and lack of individual distinction that punctures the party's glamour: Nobody knows each other, nor cares about each other. Nick notes that there are
"swirls and eddies of people I didn't know - though here and there was a face I had noticed on the commuting train."
Here, Fitzgerald, with the use of kinaesthetic imagery and metaphor, compares the party-goers to "swirls and eddies", which captures their random, erratic movements; engendering a sense of disorientation not only in Nick, but also in the reader. The implication here is that Nick does not recognise anybody not only because of his unfamiliarity with the party-goers, but also due to the ever-changing, surreal magical quality of the party which renders any stable perception of individual identity impossible. This notion is further explored with the image of the random face, "here and there was a face". Here, the face is anonymous and indistinct; its vagueness amplified by the magnitude of space with the use of adverb, "here and there", further cementing the impression of indistinct individuals stripped of their unique identities.
Whilst Nick certainly articulates the pervasive sense of disorientation and isolation, the cardinal figure embodying this isolation is Gatsby. For all of the party's sociality and action, its host is most isolated from its bustle:
"A wafer of a moon was shining over Gatsby's house, making the night fine as before, and surviving the laugher and the sound of his still glowing garden. A sudden emptiness seemed to flow now from the windows and the great doors, endowing with complete isolation the figure of the host, who stood on the porch, his hand up in a formal gesture of farewell."
Here, there is a contrast in mood, where the jovial mood of the party, "laughter" and "sound of his still glowing garden" gives way to a sense of hollowness, "sudden emptiness seemed to flow now from the windows". Perhaps, like the insubstantiality of the moon's glow, "wafer of a moon", the party's glamour and pleasures are only temporary and fragile veils that hide its spiritual hollowness. The "emptiness", reified into a tangible fluid, becomes Gatsby's defining characteristic instead of his corporeal body or his distinct features, "endowing with complete isolation the figure of the host", thus echoing the varying, incoherent accounts of Gatsby's identity and the uncertainty that enshrouds it.
Furthering the notion of individual identity being irrelevant to an apathetic, mutually alienated community is Nick's observation of a drunken woman in West Egg:
"In the foreground four solemn men in dress suits are walking along the sidewalk with a stretcher on which lies a drunken woman in a white sparkling dress. Her hand, which dangles over the side, sparkles cold with jewels. Gravely the men turn in at a house - the wrong house. But no one knows the woman's name, and no one cares."
Here, there is great attention on the nameless woman's and men's luxurious clothing and accessories, "dress suits", "white sparkling dress" and "sparkles cold with jewels". The luxury is attractive as seen in the light imagery associated with the material wealth, "white [and] sparkling" and jewels "[sparkle]". This allure is ultimately meretricious as the language of temperature "cold" reflects the emotional sterility and sheer apathy towards the drunken woman, "no one knows the woman's name, and no one cares."The repetition of "no one" further emphasises the complete isolation and alienation of the individual from society.
Our J2 student, Amanda C. , sharply observes that this alienation and mutual apathy is a societal issue in one of her essays by examining the first car accident in Chapter 3:
"Aside from Owl Eyes and the driver, the spectators of the accident, although not directly involved, also reflect the common apathy, indifference and disregard that society holds towards one another. The people around are described as “observers”, taking on a passive role as they simply watch and stare. They then become a “crowd”, a group of people just gathered around the commotion to see what’s going on without helping, or contributing to the damage control. When the driver emerges from the car, they “stepped back involuntarily”. This kinaesthetic imagery captures the spectators, physically moving away from the scene, creates a sense of distance from the accident, which is a external representation of their subconscious desire to not be involved, lest they get dragged into the messy situation. Ironically, although Fitzgerald portrays the crowd to be large in numbers, they are not given a strong presence beyond their mere watchful eyes. The only form of conscious action that they take is when they “pointed at the amputated wheel”, and their “fingers” become their only noticeable trait. Fitzgerald draws attention to the crowd’s pointed fingers while they remained on the sidelines, underscoring their disturbing behaviour of consuming others’ misfortune as mere entertainment, as long as they are in the safety of their own bubble. The behaviour of these onlookers is consistent with the rest of the novel’s scenes of accidents, highlighting the general apathy and selfishness that was festered in the twentieth century." (Credits: Amanda C, AWWL 2022 Student)
American dream: Unattainable, Insignificant and Absurd
As much as we would like to think of the opulence, especially Gatsby's opulence, as hedonistic and meaningless, we need to entertain the possibility of a greater meaning that lies within Gatsby's opulence. When Jordan Baker tells Nick that "Gatsby bought that house so that Daisy would be just across the bay", Nick notes:
"He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendour."
Here, Fitzgerald uses a metaphor of pregnancy and birth, comparing Gatsby to a newborn infant. This metaphor connotes a form of rebirth for Gatsby into a different person: Where his personhood was previously defined by a hedonistic grandeur, it is now genuine and purposeful.
Yet, in actualising this genuine quest of love via wealth and social class, the reader might detect an absurdity to Gatsby's pursuits. For, his desires for a genuine romantic connection cannot escape the pervasive presence of wealth. This is seen during Gatsby's reunion with Daisy in Chapter 5, where in Gatsby's perception, Daisy is conflated with wealth and material:
"Sometimes too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual presence none of it was any longer real."
This is conflation is most clearly explored here in Fitzgerald's juxtaposition between Daisy's corporeal presence and Gatsby's material objects, suggesting that his material objects are conduits for attaining Daisy's love, or even, physical representations of Daisy, which must lose their materiality and thus significance in successfully attaining Daisy's affection.
While Gatsby manages to move Daisy and restore her love for him, the reader cannot help but wonder: How genuine is this love?
"'They're such beautiful shirts,' she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. 'It makes me sad because I've never seen such - such beautiful shirts before.'"
Whilst it seems that Daisy appears genuinely emotional, as seen in the verb, "sobbed", the repeated references to the "beautiful shirts" suggest Daisy‘s focus on the material wealth, rather than being Gatsby's love, thus diminishing the grand significance of Gatsby's pursuit of Daisy and his self-transformation. Moreover, it may appear ludicrous and absurd that a person can be so emotionally stirred by material wealth, conveying the superficiality and spiritual poverty shared by the hedonistic Jazz Age denizens. Thus, Gatsby seeks true love, only to be lost in the meretricious pursuit of wealth, and the corresponding vapid materialism of the pursued subject (Daisy).
The novel's exploration of the absurdity of the American dream is perhaps then best summed up in Owl-eyes' epitaphic expletive for Gatsby, a "poor son-of-a-bitch", stripped of all awareness of his past allure and only casually aware of his fundamental insignificance and misfortune. Neither does the reader perceive Gatsby's presence during his death, as Fitzgerald's image of "thin red circle in the water" that concludes Gatsby's existence connotes mere insignificance by virtue of Gatsby’s lack of substantial corporeal presence. This notion is also explored in the image of stillness "faint, barely perceptible movement of the water", suggestive of Gatsby's lack of tangible impact and legacy on the world.
Concluding Thoughts: Hopeful Futility of The Great Gatsby
"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further ... And one fine morning - "
The parallelism in Fitzgerald's use of comparative verbs, "faster" and "further", creates a sense of unending movement and forward progress, engendering a sense of hope as the reader anticipates for a successful end-point in the future. The phrase and image of "one fine morning", solidifies this hope; only to be subverted and shattered by the em dash, denying the reader any satisfaction of a successful conclusion; an echo of Gatsby's tragic downfall.
Whilst the ending of Fitzgerald's novel is a pessimistic one, and some read the novel as a warning about the futility in chasing (impossible) dreams, it is worth considering these questions: What else could Gatsby have done? What else can we do? Perhaps nothing.
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
We are often victims of our circumstances, and victims to forces larger than ourselves, as seen in the fricative forces connoted by the image of the boats struggling "against the current". This imagery of the boats unable to make forward progress by virtue of external forces acting against itself may be read as and applied to the individual's lived experience: trying so hard to move forward yet remaining perpetually stagnant.
Yet, this pessimistic understanding is an antithesis to Gatsby's dreamer spirit: Whilst some dreams might be impossible to achieve, or even misplaced, should we just watch life pass us by? Perhaps not, for what is there to life, if we simply sit by and do nothing? Like Gatsby, we all have our grails, our objects of desire - our "green light"; fatal seductions like a moth to a flame.
Perhaps we may admire Gatsby's dreamer spirit, or even share Nick's romanticisation of it, but we should not forget to protect ourselves from the dangers of meretricious allures. I distinctly remember my Literature teacher giving me some wise words back in Hwa Chong Institution (College) before I graduated, "Don't chase the green light", and I (less) wisely repeat it here: It is beautiful to dream, and even more beautiful when pursuing it, but the consequences of chasing unworthy and misplaced ones are far uglier.
Or depending on how vulnerable we feel on a particular point in time and space, we may luxuriate in Gatsby's "appalling sentimentality" and indulge in the hopeful futility of The Great Gatsby. For, we always need something commensurate to our capacity for wonder, something commensurate to our desperation to ameliorate the grimness of reality, something commensurate to our lust for a false promise of self-empowerment, even if it compels us into a contemplation we neither understand nor desire. So we falter forward, lost in the swirls and eddies of aimless wonderment that follow The Great Gatsby.
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