This is really my final piece for this blog. I must have decided to title this blog "Valley of Ashes" because the landscape that Fitzgerald paints doesn't seem to be that far from the one I'm living in now. I live in Manhattan, and the Valley of Ashes, as I've discovered from an article by Roger Starr in The City Journal, is Flushing Meadows. Quite literally, the valley of ashes was just that: a dumping ground for waste and ashes until Robert Moses, the city Parks Commissioner decided to remove them and create a parkway.
I can't help but note that the defining passage in The Great Gatsby is the one that describes the Valley of Ashes. The imagery, the tone, the austere and penetrating eyes of T.J. Eckleburg loom large and fierce in the novel. Even after reading the final chapter, it isn't the green light at the end of the dock that I leave with - somehow, the story seems to reach its climax at the beginning in Chapter 2. Many people have written about the valley as a symbol of America's moral decay or spirituality. I tend to see it as the latter - a lack of concern, a carelessness, and a Marie Antoinette-like ability for us to create a bubble and ignore a world outside of the bubble. Connectedness to others is a sign of spirituality - out of it grows concern and compassion, and genuine relationships.
Years from now, when I'm my long black hair grows long and grey, I'll remember that this blog was written during one of the major economic downturns of American history. Unemployment is now at its highest in 30 years, President Bush signed an agreement to withdraw troops from Iraq, Obama's inauguration is fraught with a wary sense of hope, Americans are losing their homes, companies are bankrupt, and the Madoff scandal has ruined the lives of countless families and companies. But the reality of it hasn't sunken in - why do I see so little compassion in the streets? People seem detached from the reality of it the way Tom and Daisy, and even Jordan and Nick are detached from one another. And even they seem to live disillusioned, if not with the world, then with love. In Gatsby's world of ashes, romance is an impossibility when everyone is in a fraudulent relationship.
Hope you enjoy exploring the blog as much as I enjoyed putting it together.
I can't help but note that the defining passage in The Great Gatsby is the one that describes the Valley of Ashes. The imagery, the tone, the austere and penetrating eyes of T.J. Eckleburg loom large and fierce in the novel. Even after reading the final chapter, it isn't the green light at the end of the dock that I leave with - somehow, the story seems to reach its climax at the beginning in Chapter 2. Many people have written about the valley as a symbol of America's moral decay or spirituality. I tend to see it as the latter - a lack of concern, a carelessness, and a Marie Antoinette-like ability for us to create a bubble and ignore a world outside of the bubble. Connectedness to others is a sign of spirituality - out of it grows concern and compassion, and genuine relationships.
Years from now, when I'm my long black hair grows long and grey, I'll remember that this blog was written during one of the major economic downturns of American history. Unemployment is now at its highest in 30 years, President Bush signed an agreement to withdraw troops from Iraq, Obama's inauguration is fraught with a wary sense of hope, Americans are losing their homes, companies are bankrupt, and the Madoff scandal has ruined the lives of countless families and companies. But the reality of it hasn't sunken in - why do I see so little compassion in the streets? People seem detached from the reality of it the way Tom and Daisy, and even Jordan and Nick are detached from one another. And even they seem to live disillusioned, if not with the world, then with love. In Gatsby's world of ashes, romance is an impossibility when everyone is in a fraudulent relationship.
Hope you enjoy exploring the blog as much as I enjoyed putting it together.
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