The Great Gatsby -Excerpt
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I was still with Jordan baker. We were sitting at a table with a man about my age and a rowdy little girl who gave away upon the slightest provocation, uncontrollable laughter. I was enjoying myself now. I've taken to finger bowls of champagne. And the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental and profound at a lull in the entertainment. A man looked at me and smiled. Your face is familiar, he said politely. Weren't you in the First Division during the war? Why, yes. I was in the 28th Infantry. I was in the 16th until June 1918. I knew I'd seen you somewhere before. We talk for a moment about some wet gray little villages in France, evidently. He lived in this vicinity. He told me that he just bought a hydroplane. He was going to try it out in the morning. I want to go with me. Old sport! Just near the shore along the sound one time. Any time that suits you best? It was on the tip of my tongue to ask his name when Jordan looked around and smiled. Having a *** time. Now, she inquired. Much better. I turned again to my new acquaintance. This is an unusual party for me. I haven't even seen the host. I live over there. I wave my hand to the invisible hedge in the distance, and this man, Gatsby sent over his chauffeur with an invitation for a moment. He looked at me as if he failed to understand. I'm Gatsby! He said suddenly. What I sleep? I, I beg your pardon? I thought you knew old sport. I'm afraid I'm not a good host. He smiled, understanding lee. Much more than understanding lee. It was one of those rare smiles, with quality of eternal reassurance in it that you may come across four or five times in your life. It faced, seemed to face the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrate on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you want it to be understood, believed in you, as you would believe in yourself, assured you that it had precisely the impression that you at your best hope to convey precisely at that point. It vanished, And I was looking at an elegant young roughneck a year or 2/30, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd. Something before he introduced himself, I got a strong impression that he was picking his words with care almost at the moment when mr. Gatsby identified himself, a butler hurried toward him with the information that Cargo was calling him on the wire. He excused himself with a small bow that included each of us in turn. If you want anything, just ask for it. Old sport, he urged me. Excuse me, I'll rejoin you later. When he was gone I turned immediately to Jordan, constrained to assure her of my surprise. I had expected. Mr. Gatsby would be a florid copulate person in his mid years. Who is he? I demanded. Do you know he's just a man named Gatsby. Where is he from? I mean what does he do now? You've started on the subject, she answered with a winning smile. Well, he told me once he was an Oxford man. A dim background started to take shape behind him, but her next remark, it faded away. However, I don't believe it. Why not? I don't know. She insisted. I just don't think he went there. Something in her tone reminded me of the other girls. I think he killed a man that had the effect of stimulating my curiosity. I would have accepted without question the information that Gatsby sprang from the swamps of Louisiana, the lower east side of new york that was comprehensible. But young men, at least in my provincial inexperience, I believed they didn't drift Cooley out of nowhere and buy a palace on Long Island Sound, mm.