Wednesday, April 9, 2025

the genius of F. Scott Fitzgerald

 -------------------- [excerpt from The Great Gatsby] --------------- Dressed up in white flannels I went over to his lawn a little after seven and wandered around rather ill-at-ease among swirls and eddies of people I didn't know - though here and there was a face I had noticed on the commuting train.  

I was immediately struck by the number of young Englishmen dotted about; all well dressed, all looking a little hungry and all talking in low earnest voices to solid and prosperous Americans.  

        I was sure that they were all selling something:  bonds or insurance or automobiles.  They were, at least, agonizingly aware of the easy money in the vicinity and convinced that it was theirs for a few words in the right key.


        As soon as I arrived I  made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied so vehemently any knowledge of his movements that I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table - the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone.



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