“Here are more lines from The Great Gatsby. I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter into their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. I like to remember when I was one of them, or to pretend that I am one of them still, sensing that restless man at my back and half turning, no, turning all the way, open-armed, saying, Pick me, pick me.”
In this quote by Sigrid Nunez, there is a reflection on indulging in fantasies of entering the lives of romantic women on Fifth Avenue. The speaker expresses a desire to be chosen by someone, to be the object of desire. This passage captures a sense of longing, nostalgia, and the universal desire for connection and acceptance. The theme of yearning for something unattainable, paired with a sense of anonymity and secret desire, is prevalent in this quote.
In this passage, author Sigrid Nunez incorporates references from The Great Gatsby to evoke a sense of longing and desire for a different life. The idea of wanting to be someone else or to enter into the lives of others is a common theme in today's society as people often seek escape or fulfillment through imagination or online personas. The yearning for a sense of connection and acceptance is timeless and resonates with readers today, reminding us of the power of fiction to capture the complexities of human emotion and desire.
In this quote from Sigrid Nunez's work, the narrator expresses a desire to be a part of the glamorous and mysterious world of Fifth Avenue, where they can imagine themselves as one of the romantic women they see in the crowd. This passage captures the sense of longing and fantasy that permeates "The Great Gatsby."
As you reflect on this passage from The Great Gatsby by Sigrid Nunez, consider the following questions:
“I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye. I like to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness. At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others—poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner—young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.”
“Now that we all have partners, all husbands should come pick up theirprojects."Pick up our project? Shrugging, I stand up and stretch my arms. Henry also stands. "No way, dude," I say. "I'm the man in this relationship.""Oh yeah, absolutely," he says, grinning. He sits back down as I walk to the closet to see this project, which turns out to be one of those fakeelectronic babies. Oh good God. Ms. Bonner hands me a fake baby boy. The doll has these creepy glass eyes that look like they’re staring straightinto my soul. I hold the doll out in front of me like it's a flaming bag of poo and carry it back to Henry."Congratulations, Mommy," I say, dropping the doll into his hands. You could've told me I knocked you up.”
“I am often asked why I use a variety of pen names. The answer is that this way readers always know which of my three worlds they will be entering when they pick up one of my books.”
“If I am walking with two other men, each of them will serve as my teacher. I will pick out the good points of the one and imitate them, and the bad points of the other and correct them in myself.”
“He picked up one of Lorna's roses and set it in my lap. "Here." I picked it up and smelled it. He poked me in the shoulder. "See what I mean? Thorns don't stop you from sniffing. Or putting them in a vase on the kitchen table. You work around them.... Cause the rose is worth it... Think what you'd miss.”
“I knew something as I watched: almost everyone was saying goodbye to me. I was becoming one of the many little-girl-losts. They would go back to their homes and put me to rest, a letter from the past never to be reopened or reread. And I could say goodbye to them, wish them well, bless them somehow for their good thoughts. A handshake in the street, a dropped item picked up and retrieved and handed back, or a friendly wave from the distant window, a nod, a smile, a moment when the eyes lock over the antics of a child.”