The irony is Daisy was driving the car, but she did not know that this women was Tom's lover. The Great Gatsby is a stupid book. The narrator of the Great Gatsby is Nick Carraway. That kind of does not make any sense. His mansion or house is his house in the Great Gatsby. The Great Gatsby is a book. If you're talking about Gatsby himself, he was a millionaire who lived in West Egg.
Jay Gatsby had one of those rare smiles that had a quality of 'eternal reassurance' in it. This is stated in chapter 3 of The Great Gatsby. Myrtle died by getting hit by a car Daisy was driving. She died on the street. Myrtle and Gatsby die in The Great Gatsby. Daisy mistakenly hits Myrtle in Gatsby's car and that is how she dies. Tom, Myrtle's husband, shoots Gatsby and that is how he dies as well. Jay Gatsby, the main character represents new money in The Great Gatsby.
He is a drunk man who was in Gatsby's library during his party in the third chapter of The Great Gatsby. The overall tone for The Great Gatsby is cynical and ironic.
The Great Gatsby was created on Log in. The Great Gatsby. Study now. See Answer. Best Answer. Study guides. The Great Gatsby 21 cards. What is a job role. Why is gatsby great. What was F Scott Fitzgerald famous for. A word or phrase that logically connects sentences or paragraphs. A particular feature of the valley of ashes is the billboard on which are portrayed two disembodied "blue and gigantic" eyes, with "retinas one yard high". The eyes look out through "a pair of enormous yellow spectacles".
The oculist, Doctor T. Eckleburg, whose business they advertise, has probably now himself sunk down "into eternal blindness", or else moved away and forgotten about the advert.
Tom has bought a small apartment in th Street in New York where he can meet his mistress, Myrtle. The first description of the building as "a long white cake of apartment-houses" echoes Daisy's room with its "wedding cake frosted" ceiling.
However, although Myrtle feels very proud of her apartment she casts a "regal" glance at it it is clear Tom has not spent much money on it:. He informed me that he was in the "artistic game" and I gathered later that he was a photographer and had made the dim enlargement of Mrs. Wilson's mother which hovered like an ectoplasm on the wall.
His wife was shrill, languid, handsome and horrible. She told me with pride that her husband had photographed her a hundred and twenty-seven times since they had been married. Wilson had changed her costume some time before and was now attired in an elaborate afternoon dress of cream colored chiffon, which gave out a continual rustle as she swept about the room.
With the influence of the dress her personality had also undergone a change. The intense vitality that had been so remarkable in the garage was converted into impressive hauteur. Her laughter, her gestures, her assertions became more violently affected moment by moment and as she expanded the room grew smaller around her until she seemed to be revolving on a noisy, creaking pivot through the smoky air.
All they think of is money. I had a woman up here last week to look at my feet and when she gave me the bill you'd of thought she had my appendicitus out.
We all looked in silence at Mrs. Wilson who removed a strand of hair from over her eyes and looked back at us with a brilliant smile. McKee regarded her intently with his head on one side and then moved his hand back and forth slowly in front of his face. And I'd try to get hold of all the back hair. Her husband said " Sh! You have to keep after them all the time. She looked at me and laughed pointlessly. Then she flounced over to the dog, kissed it with ecstasy and swept into the kitchen, implying that a dozen chefs awaited her orders there.
I was down there at a party about a month ago. At a man named Gatsby's. Do you know him? That's where all his money comes from. This absorbing information about my neighbor was interrupted by Mrs. McKee's pointing suddenly at Catherine:. McKee only nodded in a bored way and turned his attention to Tom. All I ask is that they should give me a start. Wilson entered with a tray. Wilson at the Gasoline Pump,' or something like that. Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: "Neither of them can stand the person they're married to.
If I was them I'd get a divorce and get married to each other right away. The answer to this was unexpected. It came from Myrtle who had overheard the question and it was violent and obscene. She lowered her voice again. She's a Catholic and they don't believe in divorce.
We went by way of Marseilles. We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started but we got gypped out of it all in two days in the private rooms. We had an awful time getting back, I can tell you. God, how I hated that town! The late afternoon sky bloomed in the window for a moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean—then the shrill voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room. I knew he was below me.
Everybody kept saying to me: 'Lucille, that man's way below you! I never was any more crazy about him than I was about that man there.
She pointed suddenly at me, and every one looked at me accusingly. I tried to show by my expression that I had played no part in her past. I knew right away I made a mistake. He borrowed somebody's best suit to get married in and never even told me about it, and the man came after it one day when he was out.
She looked around to see who was listening: " 'Oh, is that your suit? And Tom's the first sweetie she ever had. The bottle of whiskey—a second one—was now in constant demand by all present, excepting Catherine who "felt just as good on nothing at all. I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair.
Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
Myrtle pulled her chair close to mine, and suddenly her warm breath poured over me the story of her first meeting with Tom. I was going up to New York to see my sister and spend the night. He had on a dress suit and patent leather shoes and I couldn't keep my eyes off him but every time he looked at me I had to pretend to be looking at the advertisement over his head. When we came into the station he was next to me and his white shirt-front pressed against my arm—and so I told him I'd have to call a policeman, but he knew I lied.
I was so excited that when I got into a taxi with him I didn't hardly know I wasn't getting into a subway train. All I kept thinking about, over and over, was 'You can't live forever, you can't live forever. I've got to get another one tomorrow. I'm going to make a list of all the things I've got to get.
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