Most people remember The Great Gatsby from their high school English class, often as the one old book they found slightly enjoyable. The novel’s broad reach speaks to its cultural relevance: unlike most classical literature, The Great Gatsby is particularly American.
We love a good roaring twenties themed party — the pearls and champagne all gilded in jazz music. This decadent consumerism tweaks a materialistic bent within us. Beyond that, The Great Gatsby reveals the emptiness of these pursuits, ultimately telling a story of vice and ennui.
After following the rise and fall of these glamorous characters, we face a question to which F. Scott Fitzgerald offers no obvious answer: if Gatsby’s pursuits are insufficient to create a meaningful life, what will?
Now, I will refrain from being so bold as to offer my personal conclusion on the purpose of life. However, it’s worth examining Fitzgerald’s novel for insight into what Americans truly seek.
In terms of empty pursuits, the obvious candidates make their appearances: booze, money, and adulterous affairs. Tale as old as time.
Yet, something about Fitzgerald’s character of Gatsby strikes us differently. His dogged pursuit of Daisy, a high school sweetheart from years ago, strikes the reader as almost tender. There is an element of the chivalric Romances, of self-sacrificial love that knows no bounds. He earns tons of money through some extralegal dealings, buys his West Egg mansion, and throws extravagant parties all for her. So romantic, right?
But something is off. It’s hard to believe that the sketchy, decadent millionaire has the purest intentions. He left Daisy to fight in World War I, but what took him so long to get back to her? How could he move in across the bay and not talk to her for years?
We see these pieces throughout the text until Nick’s reflection, the final words of the novel, clarifies the suspicion:
“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.”
Daisy was everything Gatsby couldn’t have. Despite his wealth and social capital, Daisy remained the unachievable girl as if they were teenagers again. That ship has sailed, yet remains barely within sight. This offers Gatsby the perfect vessel for all his false hope, something futile to chase after.
Still, this optimistic view represents a common quality of Americans and one that I quite appreciate. It’s powerful to have a can-do attitude, as seen in our country’s rapid innovation and economic success. We promise that anyone can make it as long as they work hard, so shoot for the stars!
While these benefits are nothing to scoff at, Gatsby’s deluded search for meaning serves as a warning of these excesses. “Striving” is not enough in and of itself. “Hard work” does not mean much unless you are working hard for something greater. When Aristotle writes about his famous four causes, he defines a thing by what it is made for. When we make an idol of the striving, fulfillment is impossible—in fact, fulfillment is diametrically opposed to the seeking.
As a consequence, we give up on wrestling with the deeper questions: How can I direct my actions toward the good? What do I owe the truth? What is truly beautiful about my life? Very often, the self-imposed struggle distracts us from these larger concerns, allowing us the freedom to pick when and what we sacrifice.
We revel in sleepless nights and caffeine addictions, but would we willingly set aside our ambitions for the truth? Would we open our hearts to a friend or a spouse, knowing we could get betrayed? When “the hustle” becomes higher than love or truth, it is a false promise with only the facade of diligence and endurance.
In this manner, we reflect Gatsby’s path, one that looks shiny but ends in violence and with an unattended funeral. While we should cultivate a hopeful and optimistic spirit, the constant grasping will only take us so far if it is not oriented toward the highest good.
