Gatsby: Money, Money, Money

"'She's got an indiscreet voice,' I remarked. 'It's full of --' I hesitated.

'Her voice is full of money,' he said suddenly" (The Great Gatsby, 120).

That's definitely one of my favorite lines of the novel: "her voice is full of money."

Matthew commented on one of my earlier posts to suggest that The Great Gatsby satirizes the attitudes of the wealthy. To some extent, I think that's true. The mentality and behavior of the wealthy characters in the novel are certainly . . . strange. Take the above quote. We know that Gatsby stole Daisy's heart under false pretenses -- he pretended to be someone he wasn't -- but why was Gatsby so attracted to Daisy? I don't think we can attribute their relationship entirely to money, but I can't help but think that if Daisy weren't so rich, Gatsby wouldn't have gone for her.

Gatsby places high value on wealth. "To young Gatz, resting on his oars and looking up at the railed deck, that yacht represented all the beauty and glamour in the world" (100). And Gatsby isn't alone -- Daisy, Tom, Jordan, Wolfsheim, and many other minor characters center their lives around money. Nick's tone throughout the story is occasionally sarcastic, and in general, he's critical of the rich mentality. "I disapproved of him [Gatsby] from beginning to end" (154). I agree with Matthew; to a certain extent, this novel is satirical, and the author wants to steer us away from the mentality of the wealthy.

Pros and Cons

"No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish!" ("Eveline," 24).

The sixth question for "Eveline" in Perrine's awkwardly shaped textbook asks if Eveline decided not to board the ship. My answer is that she could have made a logical decision based on her feelings about her present circumstances and her potential life with Frank, but Eveline herself never made that conscious decision. First, let's look at the pros and cons of Eveline's life, which Eveline should have done more critically:

Pros: Her home is "familiar" to her, and she "never dreamed of being divided" from the objects within her house -- she shows no desire to part with that familiarity (3). Additionally, while her father can be violent, threatening, frugal, restrictive, and completely incompetent, he can be "very nice" sometimes and made her toast once (13). Who could leave a model father like that? In all seriousness, Eveline has a connection to her father not because he is an apt father but because he is her father. Finally, she promised her dead mother that she would "keep the home together as long as she could" (14). To be clear, she made the promise when her dead mother was alive.

Cons: Eveline works extremely hard "in the Stores" for her family, and her supervisor, Miss Gavan, was demanding of her (5). I already listed the cons of her father within the pros, but I can repeat them: "violent, threatening, frugal, restrictive, and completely incompetent" (9). In addition to the difficult life at home, Eveline has a potential life with promise. In Buenos Aires, Eveline would marry Frank, who is "kind," "manly," and "open-hearted" (10). Spell check thinks I should change "open-hearted" to "open-heated" -- perhaps this is an indication of Frank's loving warmth. This potential life serves as a kind of foil to her present life in Dublin.

How did Eveline finally make the decision not to board the ship? For the same reason that I think she is the one of the most annoying characters we have encountered in this class; Eveline made a last minute decision, and it seems like there was no will in the decision. She "prayed to God to direct her," so there could have been some divine intervention (19). When a metaphorical "bell clanged upon her heart," Eveline had an epiphany that Frank would metaphorically "drown her" (20-22). "No! No! No! It was impossible" (24). Eveline could not decide to leave with Frank, for whatever sudden reason, which probably had something to do with a theme having to do with a spiritual connection to one's home that prevents him from exploring new destinations.

I would prefer not to analyze this story.

"The report was this: that Bartleby had been a subordinate clerk in the Dead Letter Office at Washington, from which he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When I think over this rumor, I cannot adequately express the emotions which seize me. Dead letters! does it not sound like dead men?" ("Bartleby the Scrivener," 250).

Question Eight asks about Bartleby's motivation behind his behavior, Melville's motivation behind his withholding this piece of information, and the extent to which this information adequately explains Bartleby. So I'm going to answer about it!

The narrator suggests that if Bartleby were already pallidly hopeless, working in the Dead Letter Office would make him even more hopeless. If this rumor is true, which is all I can assume, then Bartleby spent a great deal of time sorting dead letters for destruction -- letters, bank notes, rings never to be delivered. Bartleby's "I would prefer not to" attitude may not be annoying as much as it is hopeless. If I lacked hope to the extent that Bartleby did, I would have trouble working as a copyist, too -- perhaps not to Bartleby's extent, but characters have to be exaggerated.

So why does Melville hold off this last piece of information? I think that Melville wants us to detest Bartleby during the story. How annoying is it that he refuses to be of any additional help to the narrator? How creepy is it that he stays in the office for abnormal amounts of time and refuses to leave even when the office is gone? Then, once we have this crucial piece of information, we might (reluctantly) develop a feeling of pity for Bartleby. It's kind of like a guilt trip, I think. We spend the entire three hours we read the story being put off by Bartleby's words and actions when we fail to consider what traumatic past he may have endured. Bartleby may seem flat on the surface but is very round on the inside. I'm not calling him fat.

This is kind of morphing into a bland theme of "don't judge someone because you don't know what his situation is." Melville says it better. Albeit much longer.

An "Aha Moment"

"I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open" ("Everyday Use," 76).

Mrs. Johnson's unprecedented words and actions with Dee illustrate a major change in character -- the narrator is a dynamic character. Both Mrs. Johnson's motivation and foreshadowing throughout the story make this a fitting shift in character.

I would describe both the narrator and Maggie as "simple." Mrs. Johnson is a rough, hardworking mother, and Maggie lacks "good looks," "money," and "quickness," much like her mother (13). While Mrs. Johnson and Maggie share this special connection, Dee has developed a different "style," which the narrator passively resented (12). "No" was a word Mrs. Johnson has rarely spoken to her eldest daughter (2). That's the before situation -- there is a conflict between Dee and her mother, and I knew it would be resolved, probably by her mother finally saying that word, "no."

Several plot elements probably drove the mother to refuse to let Dee have her mother's quilts. Dee detached herself from her "oppressive" family by changing her name to "Wangero" (25). Then, she took the family's churn top, a tool both beautiful and useful to Mrs. Johnson (54). Then, when the narrator suddenly refused to allow Dee to take the quilts, Dee accused her of not understanding her heritage (81).

I attribute the narrator's sudden shift to an epiphany, and I believe that this change in character is permanent -- it fits perfectly. The narrator made a promise to Maggie (64) -- or at least said she did -- because she is legitimately closer to Maggie. Additionally, Dee's actions were inconsistent; she abandoned her family name, yet accused Mrs. Johnson of not understanding her heritage. Go, Mrs. Johnson!

Also, Big Dee (in video game form -- 0:33):

"Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head. One of use lifted something from it, and leaning forward, that faint and invisible dust dry and acrid in the nostrils, we saw a long strand of iron-gray hair" ("A Rose for Emily," 60).

How many people used that quote, do you think? Also, I had to read this story a few times to understand; the chronology is all mixed up, which is nice and rhetorical and everything, but it's not easy to read.

The evidence seems to be there that Emily murdered Homer -- the poison she bought, the iron-gray hair, and the presence of his body in her house. I'm going to talk about motivation; why would Emily murder Homer? Let's take a look at some possibilities!

• The town pressed her for taxes (4).
• Her father died (15).
• Potentially, she was crazy (28).
• Homer was not a good fit for her -- a Yankee, a foreman (30).
• Homer himself liked men (43).

There are clues all over the story that foreshadow Emily's murdering Homer. She handles situations without leaving her house, as she did with the people collecting taxes, and she clings to people after they die, as she did with her dead father. It's likely that because Homer was not a good fit for Emily and he liked men, Emily could not leave him the way a normal person would. She left him Emily-style -- she didn't leave her house, and she clung to his dead body.

This is all kind of gross.

Supporting a Hypothesis (that cooouuuld be right)

"'What does it matter anyway? What's the rhubarb patch got to do with anything? Just get on with what you were saying'" (Never Let Me Go, 190 and 202).

My goal of this post is to support this hypothesis: Kathy's motivation for leaving the Cottages is that her unique connection to the past has weakened her ties with her friends.

My first piece of evidence is the symbol of the "essays" (197). Few people at the Cottages took their assigned essay as seriously as Kathy did. The essays didn't seem all that important even to Kathy, but she read and took notes enthusiastically. She figured that since essays were important at Hailsham, if she treated them with importance at the Cottages, she could maintain the binding between the Hailsham students.

My second piece of evidence is the above quote that showed up twice in chapters sixteen and seventeen. Kathy continued to make references to things that happened at Hailsham to Ruth, but Ruth never responded to them well. Kathy wanted to keep her present life connected with her past, whereas her friend was more intent on cutting off that connection.

Once Kathy's difference from her friends weakened their relationships, she had no second thoughts about beginning her training to become a carer (202). I've known since the beginning of the novel that Kathy is, for some reason, a special person (since being a carer for twelve years is apparently a big deal [3]), and I think that stems from her special connection with the past.

Thus ends Part Two.

Herzlich Willkommen!

"'Very well, then,' said Bernard; and it was almost a threat" (Brave New World, 100).

Bernard got into this "almost" zone in chapter six, and it . . . confused me. Why would Bernard threaten Lenina with the Reservation? More simply, why is he even going out with her? Maybe he's just using her to learn more about hypnopaedia, to get to the Reservation to observe the savages, or to conform. Or maybe I missed his motivation earlier in the book. By the way, I think the whole Reservation savages thing is a critique of the way we treat Native Americans in the United States. Definitely the crappiest legacy of Andrew Jackson.

Also, when he was talking to the Director, he spoke "almost enviously" (97) when the Director was describing how his date got lost in New Mexico. Is he envious because he longs for "some great trial, some pain, some persecution" (104), or does he just think it would be fun to lose Lenina in the Reservation? Seriously, I'd greatly appreciate it if somebody told me why Bernard is going out with her.

One of the little sayings that Lenina recited, "Never put off till to-morrow the fun you can have today" (93), reminded me of a song Frau Price put on her blog. It's called "Schöne Neue Welt" -- yet another song called "Brave New World." Basically, it's a social critique: when we live impulsively, we destroy the world. Isn't that nice?