I've been doing a lot of reading lately. Reading is something I go through phases with. I constantly read periodicals, The Economist, Maclean's, and I can never miss George Will's column in Newsweek. It somehow keeps me connected to the world. And George's constant reminder of "Sometimes for things to go right, they must first go very wrong" has somehow come to define my life.
But books, books I go through phases with. I'm one of those that can easily find a hidden world in a book. Escapism at it's greatest. Like staring up into the cloudless forever sky, to find the contrails of a jet off to some unknown location. I want to be on that plane, I want to go to the unknown, with my luck it would probably be Cleveland, but still I always follow the contrails until they disappear over the horizon like an arrow of dreams shot through the air.
I mostly read biographical books, it allows me to learn how others gained strength, how they dealt with adversity, how they made others lives better. David Niven's old yarns are fantastic, life in old Hollywood. An old friend once turned me to the story of Wallis Simpson and Edward the 8th. Imagine giving up the throne of England for love. People get divorced nowadays arguing over who gets to use the remote. Please. Last spring I read Sidney Portier's "The Measure of A Man", forever raising the bar for me.
Now, one of the main reasons I read non-fiction now is because I don't think anyone knows how to write fiction anymore. I've tried to read a few over the years, admittedly there are times I can get lost in some type of pulpy adventure, but the experience is normally fleeting, like the headrush from a long awaited cigarette. I need symbolism, hiding, twisting through the plot and storyline like some mythological creature. I need F. Scott Fitzgerald.
No one could do symbolism like Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite books, one of my favorite movies as well. The Great Gatsby is all about the "green light." Gatsby is this immensely wealthy, self made man, a man who finds himself walking down the back lawn of his estate every night to stare at the green light across the harbour in East Egg, for that is where Daisy lives. The green light is at the end of her dock.
The green light is a multi-faceted piece of symbolism in the book. It's most obvious interpretation is that the light is symbolic of Gatsby's longing for Daisy, but that is too simplistic. Daisy is part of it, but the green light means much more. Gatsby has spent his whole life longing for something better. Money, success, acceptance, and Daisy. And no matter how much he has, he never feels complete. Even when he has his large house full of interesting people, and all of their attention, he still longs for Daisy. He created in his dreams for the future a place for her, and he will not be content to have that gaping hole. So the green light stands for all of Gatsby's longing and wants. And when Nick talks about the green light at the end of the book he says "it eluded us then, but that's no matter-tomorrow we will run faster, stretch our arms out farther...". He connects the green light to all people. Everyone has something that they long and search for that is just off in the distance. That is the green light.
I've tried to explain this to a lot of people before, especially ones that I thought had to realize that what they wanted was "just off in the distance." It is normally received with a blank stare and the sound of crickets. I've never been able to find the crickets, funny that. And every night I wait for a phone call, e-mail, or text, that inevitably will never come, or the tap on the shoulder telling me it's time to go, whether it is from a future lover, or the reaper, we will have to see. And the green light shines on.
So my message for all of you is, tomorrow, run a little faster and reach a little farther. And have yourselves one bang up weekend!
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