THE GREAT GATSBY Chapter 5: Close

Reading & Scene Rewrite

Closely read and annotate the following scene, during which Gatsby
and Daisy are reunited for the first time in 5 years.
She turned her head as there was a light dignified knocking at the front door. I went out
and opened it. Gatsby, pale as death, with his hands plunged like weights in his coat pockets,
was standing in a puddle of water glaring tragically into my eyes.
With his hands still in his coat pockets he stalked by me into the hall, turned sharply as if
he were on a wire, and disappeared into the living-room. It wasn’t a bit funny. Aware of the loud
beating of my own heart I pulled the door to against the increasing rain.
For half a minute there wasn’t sound. Then from the living-room I heard a sort of choking
murmur and part of a laugh, followed by Daisy’s voice on a clear artificial note:
“I certainly am awfully glad to see you again.”
A pause; it endured horribly. I had nothing to do in the hall, so I went into the room.

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Gatsby, his hands still in his pockets, was reclining against the mantelpiece in a strained

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counterfeit of perfect ease, even of boredom. His head leaned back so far that it rested against

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the face of a defunct mantelpiece clock, and from this position his distraught eyes stared down
at Daisy, who was sitting, frightened but graceful, on the edge of a stiff chair.

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“We’ve met before,” muttered Gatsby. His eyes glanced momentarily at me, and his lips
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parted with an abortive attempt at a laugh. Luckily the clock took this moment to tilt dangerously
at the pressure of his head, whereupon he turned and caught it with trembling fingers and set it
back in place. Then he sat down, rigidly, his elbow on the arm of the sofa and his chin in his
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hand.
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“I’m sorry about the clock,” he said.

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My own face had now assumed a deep tropical burn. I couldn’t muster up a single
commonplace out of the thousand in my head.
“It’s an old clock,” I told them idiotically.
I think we all believed for a moment that it had smashed in pieces on the floor.
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“We haven’t met for many years,” said Daisy, her voice as matter-of-fact as it could ever
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be.
“Five years next November.”
The automatic quality of Gatsby’s answer set us all back at least another minute. I had
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them both on their feet with the desperate suggestion that they help me make tea in the kitchen
when the demoniac Finn brought it in on a tray.
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Amid the welcome confusion of cups and cakes a certain physical decency established
itself. Gatsby got himself into a shadow and, while Daisy and I talked, looked conscientiously
from one to the other of us with tense, unhappy eyes. However, as calmness wasn’t an end in
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itself, I made an excuse at the first possible moment, and got to my feet.
“Where are you going?” demanded Gatsby in immediate alarm.
“I’ll be back.”
“I’ve got to speak to you before you go.”
He followed me wildly into the kitchen, closed the door, and whispered: “Oh, God!” in a
miserable way.
“What’s the matter?”

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 “This is a terrible mistake,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, “a terrible, terrible
mistake.”
“You’re just embarrassed, that’s all,” and luckily I added: “Daisy’s embarrassed too.”
“She’s embarrassed?” he repeated incredulously.
“Just as much as you are.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was time I went back. While the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their
voices, rising and swelling a little now and then with gusts of emotion. But in the new silence I
felt that silence had fallen within the house too.
I went in—after making every possible noise in the kitchen, short of pushing over the stove
—but I don’t believe they heard a sound. They were sitting at either end of the couch, looking at
each other as if some question had been asked, or was in the air, and every vestige of
embarrassment was gone. Daisy’s face was smeared with tears, and when I came in she jumped
up and began wiping at it with her handkerchief before a mirror. But there was a change in
Gatsby that was simply confounding. He literally glowed; without a word or a gesture of
exultation a new well-being radiated from him and filled the little room.

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“Oh, hello old sport,” he said, as if he hadn’t seen me for years. I thought for a moment he

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was going to shake hands.

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“It’s stopped raining.”

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“Has it?” When he realized what I was talking about, that there were twinkle-bells of

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sunshine in the room, he smiled like a weather man, like an ecstatic patron of recurrent light, and
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repeated the news to Daisy. “What do you think of that? It’s stopped raining.”
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“I’m glad, Jay.” Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told only of her unexpected joy.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
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WRITING TASK: Scene Rewrite

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Rewrite this scene from Daisy’s or Gatsby’s point of view. Your rewritten scene must
include the character’s inner thoughts, description of other characters/the setting, and
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dialogue between characters.

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PLEASE NOTE: You may use the dialogue from the original text, but nothing else. Don’t
let dialogue dominate your entire rewritten scene. Also, you may rewrite the dialogue, as
long as it stays true to the scene and characters. (Example: Many versions of books
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change the dialogue but not in a way that changes the representation of the character or
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scene, ideally.) * Please type your response on the following page*

When you are finished, answer the following questions here.

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1. How did the change in narration affect the story?

It shows the adoration Gatsby has for Daisy.

2. Which narrator—Nick or Daisy/Gatsby—do you think is more effective in this

scene? Explain.
Gatsby. Because he is unknown and mysterious and it would be amazing to see
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 his point of view.

WRITING TASK: Scene Rewrite

CHARACTER’S POINT OF VIEW YOU ARE WRITING FROM:
As I stood at the door the rain pounded on me, however I was oblivious to the rain as I
awaited for nick to answer the door. When I glanced up he seemed shocked by my
soaked appearance and I looked at him trying to hide my trepidation.

I entered the house, there was no turning back now, somewhere within these halls
Daisy was sitting patiently by herself most definitely not expecting my arrival.

I turned the corner and there she was.

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"I certainly am awfully am awfully glad to see you again."

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It was too much to take in I stared at her from head to toe unable to look away. I didn't

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know what to say or what to do. She was the beautiful. The gentle slope of her nose
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and her radiant eyes glimmered at me just as they did over five years ago. I leaned
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against the mantelpiece clock for support, this tempest of emotions was too much to
bear and it took all my effort to remark,
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"We've met before."

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I quickly looked over at Nick, looking at him to break the dreadful silence and carry the
conversation, but he did no such thing.
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Under my weight I felt the clock suddenly tilt I panicked, but luckily caught it quickly,
but not without trembling hands. I felt as though she was watching my every action
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and gesture. I wondered what she was thinking, was she happy? Sad? or simply
indifferent to my presence? It was hard to tell for she always looked the same even
after all these years, she looked like a dream,she looked like an angel, her outward
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appearance made it impossible to unveil what was going on in that head of hers.
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The rain reached me as I stood at the door, but I didn't pay attention to the

rain, waiting for my Nick to answer the door. He appeared surprised by my

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 steamy presence when I looked up and I watched him struggle to suppress my

trembling.

I came into the house, there was no more turning back, Daisy was sitting

patiently alone somewhere in these halls, definitely not waiting for my

advancement. I turned a corner and there he was. "I am absolutely glad to see

you again."

I couldn't look at it from top to bottom. It was too much to bear. I had no idea

what to say or do. He was stunning. Just as five years ago, the soft curvature

of her nose and vibrant eyes sparkled at me. I leaned against the fireplace

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clock for help, and this storm of emotion was too difficult to endure, and it

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took all my effort to say,

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"We've met before. "I looked at Nick quickly and looked at him in order to
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break the horrible silence and begin the conversation, but he did nothing like

that. I unexpectedly felt the clock tip under my weight, panicking, but luckily I
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caught it easily, but not without hands trembling. I felt like she was watching
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my every gesture and action. I was curious what she felt. Was she happy?

Unhappy? Sad? Or just disregarding my presence? It was hard to say that she
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always looked the same, looked like a dream, looked like an angel even after

all these years, and her presence made it difficult to reveal what was going on
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in her mind.
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