Introduction

My name is Nick Carraway. I was born in a big city in the Middle West. My family has been well-known there for seventy years. My father’s university was Yale at New Haven, Connecticut and I went there, too. I graduated in 1915 and then went to fight in the Great War.

When I came back from the War, life in the Middle West was dull. I could not settle down. I decided to go East and learn the bond business. My father agreed to pay my expenses for the first year. So, in 1922, I went to New York. I had planned to stay in the East for several years, but I was there for only one summer. This book is the story of that summer.

I arrived in New York in spring. The weather was already warm and the city was hot and uncomfortable. I looked around for somewhere cheap to live. I found a little house about twenty miles from New York, near the village of West Egg.

My house was on Long Island, near the sea. It stood between two enormous houses that had been built for millionaires. The house on the right of my house had a swimming pool and was surrounded by beautiful lawns and gardens. It was Gatsby’s house. And this is Gatsby’s story, but of course, I didn’t know Gatsby then ...

Chapter 1. Tom and Daisy

That spring, the sun shone every day. I was lonely at first in the East. But I felt that this was the real beginning of my life. I walked in the fresh air. I bought books. I worked hard. I was trying to make myself a successful businessman.

One evening, the phone rang. It was my cousin, Daisy. ‘Hallo, Nick,’ she said in her soft voice. ‘Do you know we are neighbours? Tom and I are living across the bay, in East Egg. I think we’ve settled down at last. Сome to dinner, Nick. I’d love to see you.’

Of course, I agreed. I wanted to see my cousin Daisy again. She had married Tom Buchanan, a man I knew at Yale University. Tom was a famous football player at college. His family was very rich and Tom spent money carelessly. Now he and Daisy left Chicago, where I last saw them. After the War, they travelled around America and Europe. I did not believe they had really settled down. They were too rich and too restless.

So, a few days later, I drove over to East Egg. The Buchanan’s house was a big one, overlooking the bay. The lawns and gardens started at the house and went down to the sea. It was late afternoon and the weather was warm and windy. All the windows at the front of the house were wide open.

Tom Buchanan stood on the porch, his legs wide apart. He was a fair-haired man of about thirty. He wore smart riding clothes and his body looked strong and tough.

We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.