Chronicles

Tag: book-review

  • The Great Gatsby

    F, Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby is a short, dense novel. He is not one of my usual choices of writers to pick up and read. But the flair and taut writing had me hooked. His exquisite craft in narrating the Long Island soirees from the Jazz Age where midwesterners came to claim the American dream amid their insecurities about displacement by inferior races, nouveau-riche threatening class barriers and traditional social order, women becoming the co-conspirators to relegate themselves to “beautiful little fools” of their possessors’ social standing – weaving layers of socio-political commentary.

    Nick Carraway, the narrator of the story – a mid-westerner presents an empathetic portrayal of Gatsby, who, in turn, was ingratiating himself into Nick’s life to get close to Daisy Buchanan, Gatsby’s long-lost love. He takes time to shed light on the main characters – Tom Buchanan, the rich and imperious former polo player and Yale alumnus, whom Daisy reluctantly married when Gatsby, son of a poor Lutheran farmer, left town to war with the world and earn enough to marry her. Daisy Buchanan is Nick’s cousin, who grew up in a wealthy family, is a victim and sustainer of the class system of old money as she tolerated Tom’s adultery, condoned racist rants, and finally abandoned Gatsby to his fate, notwithstanding her unabashed love and attraction for him.

    Gatsby conquered the world with the best of American traditions – bootlegging during the prohibition era, insider trading, and other illegal activities, only to settle down near Nick’s house. He ran parties all night without taking part in them, and used them only as a ruse to get close to Daisy. Having Daisy invited over to Nick’s house, Gatsby asked her to play the piano despite her protests about being out of practice. He was reliving the enchantment he lost five years ago, which Nick observed through the bewilderment on Gatsby’s face when Daisy “tumbled short of his dreams-not through her fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion”. Nick went out of the room, leaving them to be “possessed by intense life”.

    Tom punctured Gatsby’s illusion with the help of a private detective and warned Daisy of the source of his wealth. Their confrontation led to tragedy when Daisy, while driving back home, hit Tom’s lover accidentally and ran away. Gatsby tried to protect her as he hid the car in his garage and later kept a night vigil in the garden to see if Daisy was safe in her room with the lights off.  Tom, after a while, reveals that he told the heartbroken widower of his lover, Wilson, that the car that killed her belonged to Gatsby. Wilson committed suicide after shooting Gatsby. Nick finally meets Mr. Gatz, Gatsby’s dog-tired father, as they attend the loneliest funeral sans the sounds of Jazz and the flock of humans.

    Nick, too, leaves New York, brooding over the old, unknown world, and he thought how Gatsby “picked out the green light from Daisy’s dock”. He didn’t realize that the dream he thought so real in his grasp was already behind him. Fitzgerald finishes with a flourish on our collective American dream etched on the Statue of Liberty:

    “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 farther…. And one fine morning……

      So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

  • Backyard Brawls

    Backyard Brawls

    Imagine a backyard in a small town lost in Appalachia, where uncles, cousins, and friends from the neighborhood gather for Thanksgiving—or some other inopportune occasion. One of them—an uncle, tipsy and loud—starts ranting about a long-forgotten feud. A certain family member, he insists, isn’t grateful enough for his life or the family. He must be taught a lesson—now, and how! Thus, the customary brawl breaks out, ending as always: with one or two shotguns fired in random directions, a volley of aimless verbal violence, and a mess of broken furniture.

    The ever-present mix of helplessness, poverty, and alcoholism—practically a permanent disability in town—seeps into people’s minds, corroding whatever remains of reason. Violence lurks in every corner, waiting for the slightest spark. Even those lucky enough to escape the gravitational pull of that world are never entirely free. J.D. Vance, against all odds, defied gravity—and found himself in the house of unlimited power.

    Zelensky had spent years fighting an existential battle against a hard, dour, and ruthless dictator with limitless resources. But none of that prepared him for dinner at the Oval House, hosted by JD. As soon as the guest in army uniform took his seat, JD saw the setting morph into the familiar gray backyard from Appalachia where Uncle Trump needed a nudge and a reminder of how things ought to be done. It shouldn’t matter that JD and Rubio voted against the help for which Zelensky wasn’t “thankful enough”. The ungrateful visitor must be verbally put in his place. He should thank his stars that the brawl ended with just the denial of dinner and a summary send-off, not a sentence or broken bones.

    Unfortunately, the Ukrainians could have done little to avoid invasion and outlast the medieval brute. Cowering before a dictator, ruing his misfortune ever since his tanks began exploding on the road to Kyiv—doesn’t inspire awe or respect. Enemies of democracy couldn’t believe their luck, while the rest stood paralyzed—too worried and confused to predict an uncertain future.

    In their misguided zeal to cling to power, Democrats, liberals, and traditional Republicans ignored the crumbling foundation of freedom and decency. By allowing illiberal and aberrant elements to take center stage, they paved the way for dysfunctional folks from the backyard to seize the house of power.