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| 09:23 AM Oct 17 2012

Reader

Taiwan

The Great Gatsby
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Chapter 15, Page 62-Page 69
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It was one morning in July when I heard someone blow his horn outside. It was Gatsby’s limousine that was driving up on my bumpy driveway. He had never called on me despite the fact that I had attended several parties, rode on his hydroplane. “Hi, old sport. I think you would like to have lunch with me this morning.” He said with that jaunty movement, balancing himself on the dashboard of the car and, even more, with a quality of restlessness to highlight his excitement. So I slid into his enormous car and headed for town with him.
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Although I had several occasions to talk with him in the past month, until then I had considered he wasn’t talkative. Shortly on the ride did he begin to be full of chatter about his life. “Old sport, what’s your initial impression on me?” he asked, winking at me. “A nice guy” I answered. “I don’t want you to believe common gossip from some people. I do know there’re a lot of rumors circulating in my parties. To be honest, I came from a wealthy family and grew up in the Middle West of America. Once I had been educated at Oxford,” he told me, darting a glance at me while pronouncing “Oxford”. “But my whole family died except me and I inherited a large sum of money from them,” he continued, growing solemn on the face as if the family extinction was much sadder than the fortune. “I see.” “Not long after they died, the war broke out immediately,” he breathed a sigh of relief, “I had taken great pains to live since their sudden disappearance, and I had tried hard to die during the war, and there were several times I was close to death, but I seemed to be blessed with a marvelous life. Not only did I survive over the war, but also I was rewarded medals for my bravery,” his left hand reached into the pocket, groping for something, then, after a moment, there came out with a piece of metal, “here you can take a look at it” he passed it to me. There was a moment of hesitance in his word. “I was about to ask your help today,” he added, after a few minutes, and, “the reason why I tell you about me is I don’t want you to think of me as some nobody,” he gave a wan smile. “What help?” I inquired. “Miss Baker will tell you some day” he said, looking like something mysterious going on. He wouldn’t reveal more to me afterwards.
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We passed over the bridge, through a line of dilapidated houses, raced along the valley of ashes, and I had a quick glimpse of Mr. Wilson who was with a great effort to screw something into a car. “Old sport, over the bridge, we are nearing the city. I would think everything is likely to happen out of our expectation” he sounded a warning to me. At last our car lurched up the drive of a restaurant.
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It was a broiling day. We walked into a well-circulated hall. There was a man sitting at the corner. He jumped to his feet when he caught a sight of our coming. “Hi, Nick, this is my buddy Mr. Wolfshiem.” He had a snub nose and broad jaw, turning his head and stepping forward. Shaking his hand, I couldn’t help but notice his sweaty hand and his eye like eagle.
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To be continued.

| 09:03 AM Oct 16 2012

Reader

Taiwan

The Great Gatsby
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Chapter 14, Page 56-Page 61
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The noisy horns had screamed for a long while, making me unbearable. I decided to take a short-cut home. A stream of cold air rushed through me, obliging me to glance back, and under a thin crescent moon people dispersed on the garden as quickly as they had gathered earlier. I noticed the figure of the host appeared on the veranda, standing with his hands in his pockets, and lapsed into puzzled silence. Something in his thoughtful gesture suggested that he was trapped into anonymous troubles. As I was turning at the corner, looking back again, he had vanished.
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The days that followed, I was soon absorbed in my own business. Those happened in the neighborhood hadn’t caught my attention. During the period I even had fallen in love with a girl but I could see the faintest suspicion in her brother’s eye, so I let it slip away unutterably. I had a special feeling to New York-the dazzling night and unpredictable life, displaying a variety of scenes featured by men and women endowing with restless eye and charming makeup, and searching for other uneasy companions. Sometimes I would follow their traces, imagining that my life would turn out differently as if I were the part of their lives until they melted into the crowd, and I was alone again.
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Until much later, I saw Jordan Baker again, and was invited to join her in a restaurant. Because she was a professional golf player, and everybody knew her name, I felt flattered to have dinner with her. By then there was something more than love, the sort of curiosity that had haunted me since we last met in the Gatsby’s mansion-it wasn’t love of which I was aware. I had found something interesting inside her personality; it wasn’t until one day she lied to me did I know her lasting insecurity in the golf career. A story about her that had eluded me in the Daisy’s house reminded me of a piece of news that had said of her dishonesty in a game. Much later, the caddy who had made the suggestion that she had moved the ball during the game changed what he had previously said. It wasn’t a big deal to me. A lie in a woman is a thing for which you have to forgive. I was much impressed with her misbehavior one day when we were driving to a party. Our car was passing by a group of workers on the road, so close that one of the workers was almost being hit. “I’ll never trust in your driving skill” I said. “It’s not my fault. I’m always careful. They should’ve kept out of my way” she argued. That’s why I made the conclusion.
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At first I thought I loved her but I changed my mind later, for at the same time she had subtly adjusted her attitude toward me. In spite of my dilatory response and many internal disciplines that often came out as warnings on my lust, I fully knew that by then I had to get rid of any emotional entanglements. I self-consider I’m a man of great moral integrity that people have ever seen.
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People came back to his lawn on every Sunday morning. Along the shore were dotted with all color of parasols and rafts bobbed gently up and down on the sea. Once again Gatsby’s house was open to fashionable dressed women and men in business attire like moths over here and there in between his bars and his flowers. It was hard to forget the hilarity they came with to his house.
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To be continued.

| 08:15 AM Oct 14 2012

Reader

Taiwan

The Great Gatsby
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Chapter 13, page 51-page 55
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There was dancing in the garden; men danced with young girls, circling their arms across girls’ waists; the flame cast dancing shadows on the ground; the hilarity had increased and bursts of laughter had been heard here and there; the moon had hung right above, looking like fortifying them with the beweildering light. “Excuse me! Miss Baker, Gatsby would like to say something to you” the butler whispered behind. Miss Baker stood up hesitantly, showing more astonished than pleased. “Me?” “Yes, Madame.” She followed him in a few paces behind. I was alone again, noticing the boom of songs and the roaring voice rang out suddenly from the many-windowed room, and went inside.
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People gathered around a girl. She was singing them a very sad song, occasionally out of tune. Someone said “she’s been deserted by her husband. Just minutes ago, she’d been beaten and kicked”. Suddenly she ceased, groaned in agony, but for a moment, she sang again with gasping, broken sobs. “She should’ve gone home right away” a girl muttered to me beside. I wasn’t surprised that people were unwilling to go home, even though the music band had stopped playing. By midnight the suggestion was made that the party was coming to an end, and people had began to move toward the gate. I shifted my gaze to another room, where Gatsby and Jordan Baker were inside. Shortly, the door opened, and I saw Baker came out first, Gatsby walked at her heels. Someone’s voice stopped them, turning their familiar conversation into some degree of formality. I waited patiently to see her walking toward me.
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“What’s the matter?”I asked curiously. “It’s just an amazing thing. I won’t tell you right now” she looked at me all radiantly, “call me some other time. Here is my aunt’s telephone number” she added, with an exciting smile at me, and disappearing into her party.
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As I was ready to leave, I heard Gatsby call my name. “Hi, old sport, how have you been tonight?” he patted me on my back. “Fine, I’m sorry for not having recognizing you immediately in the garden” I said. “Don’t mention it, old sport” he gave a broad smile, “we have a promise of going up hydroplane tomorrow morning”. At this moment, I saw the butler was approaching. “Sir, there’s a call from Philadelphia” the butler whispered beside his ear. “Ok, I will be there in a minute”, he turned to me, and said “good night, old sport. Don’t forget tomorrow morning”.
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But when I walked out of the gate, a small group of people clustered around a car that had skidded off the road and into a ditch. A wheel had detached itself from the car, resting a few steps away on the roadside. There was a brief silence before a man crawled out of the car, panting. He was examining the car thoroughly. A bystander shouted out from the crowd, “you had drunk yourself to a stupor and drove the car to crush into the ditch”. “I didn’t know anything. I’m not even driving,” he sat explaining, looking puzzled. The bystanders, bewildered by his reaction, all took a straight look at him. “You don’t know. There’s someone driving the car,” he snapped. The shock that ensued from a stout man, who coughed and cleared his throat first and pushed the door open, had sent the crowd to step backward. The ghostly figure in a white dress, bit by bit, was emerging from the other side of the car, shadowed by the wall first, followed by his lingering pause, more intensified by a continuance of the roaring horns into the darkness.
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To be continued.

| 02:14 AM Sep 29 2012

Reader

Taiwan

Thanks for your cooking comment. I’m only mouthwatering. I should’ve said less..

| 07:18 AM Sep 26 2012

Reader

Taiwan

The Great Gatsby
.
Chapter 12, page 47—page 50
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“Have I told you they are all real?” “Yes, you’ve.” We left in haste, even without looking back. Back in the garden, men were pulling girls forward, and couples were swaying gently with women’s hands swung from men’s neck in the breeze as the music floated around. The tenor of a few sopranos slit through the air, high-pitched voices rose toward the darkness in the night. The music band took a breather for a moment, giving way to the solo time of the banjo. Champagne and liquor were now in constant demand by all present under the dim and hazy cast over the lawn, and everything happened so admiringly that the late night sky also bloomed for a moment like the blue honey of the sea.
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We were sitting at another table with a girl who laughed pointless and a man a little over my age. I was delighting in interesting conversation interspersed with innuendos and witty banters, and the atmosphere had changed into a homey chatter. At the very moment, the man next to me took an interesting look at me and said: “you look familiar,” “were you in the army during the war?” “That’s right. I was in the Infantry at that time.” “I think I’d seen you by the time” he said. When I was going to ask his name, he burst out “I’d just purchased a hydroplane, and was about to make its debut at the nearby shore along the Sound. Would you like to go with me tomorrow?” “Sure, thanks for inviting me” I stopped by the Jordan Baker’s inquisition.
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“This is a funny party. Until now, I haven’t seen the host” I murmured to my new friend. For a moment he looked confused as if he didn’t understand me, and then, “I think I’m not a conscientious host. I’m the host, Gatsby” “What!” I cried out. “I thought you knew me” a broad smile spread over his face.
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There were something impressive about his voice; carefully picking his words in the social formality, he delivered on his promise that he understands you just as you need to be understood, a god-send gift for hope.
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The butler came over and said something close to his ear, whereupon he frowned and knitted his brows as if it was bothering him inside. “Old sport, excuse me for a few minutes. I’ll see you later,” he went inside in a hurry. “Now you’ve made the acquaintance of a young American host” Jordan gave a wan smile. “Who is he? I mean what his background is” I pursued the subject. “He told me he’d been educated in Oxford University but I never buy it” she answered with a faint smile. “Why?” “I don’t feel he is honest” she sounded contemptuous.
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I would’ve convinced myself that he had grown up from somewhere in the world or a certain slum in the suburbs of some city—at least in my immature experience, he wouldn’t just come out of nowhere. “I like large parties, somehow” Jordan sneered, “and he throws such a party very day.”
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The music sounded again with enthusiastic pitches, luring a great number of people into rocking from side to side with laughter. A man on the stage announced: “tonight is a wonderful night, ladies and gentlemen, at the request of Mr. Gatsby, now I am going to introduce a wonderful song to everybody….”
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I’d glanced around and found no trace of Gatsby when the music was roaring, bearing thundering laughter into the darkness. I dipped my head to take a quick peek at the watch on my wrist: it was long past midnight.
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To be continued.

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