‘Nowadays people begin by sneering at family life and institutions’ – How families are presented in The Great Gatsby

In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel family relationships are presented as losing meaning, becoming superficial and something of the past in the new, tradition-breaking atmosphere of the Roaring 1920s.

While not the most obvious example of breakdown in families, one of the most interesting things to note is the presentation of children within the novel. This is mainly because children seem to be very absent from the novel, emphasising the very adult atmosphere of the 1920s, where luxury, adult parties and illegal alcohol were major parts of everyday life. The only child to be featured is Daisy’s female child, Pammy. I refer to her as such and not as a “girl” because of the way the characters and narrator speak about her, with Nick referring to the girl as “it”, demonstrating the way that family members are made to feel like possessions, which emphasises the theme of money and ownership in the novel. This is further shown when Pammy is shown of to Daisy’s guests like an act rather than a person, showing a need to be in possession of nice things in the 1920s, and not having a good, motherly relationship with her own daughter. The child is obviously neglected by mother and father, with Tom Buchannan not mentioning her once throughout the entire novel, even when she is present, instead he asks Nick about his job, showing how he is more concerned with his friend’s successes rather than his own child. Daisy does not have high hopes for her daughter, claiming ‘that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool’, showing how she does not show any positivity towards the child’s ambitions, simply hoping that she will be ignorant to the world and get married in order to lead a normal, simple life. This can, however, be interpreted as Daisy wanting the child to be ignorant for protection and in order to fit into society, showing concern about the child’s future. Gatsby’s childhood relationship with his father is different, with his father claiming, “Jimmy was bound to get ahead”, showing a genuine pride for his own son and hopes for his future as opposed to Daisy’s simple wish for her daughter to live comfortably and not necessarily be successful at anything. Children are used as a device in the novel to show how family members in the 1920s could be treated as superficial possessions to show off, especially amongst the wealthy.

The idea of marriage losing it’s meaning is explored in the novel, demonstrating the extreme changes in ideas about relationships during the 1920s. First, affairs are common within the novel, with three different affairs involving a married person are featured. Myrtle Wilson appears to be involved with both Tom and Gatsby, showing how dissatisfied she is with her own husband. Tom’s affair with her portrays the problems of male-dominance and having a big ego, with Myrtle often being referred to as Tom’s “mistress”, suggesting that ideas about marriage had relaxed so much as to fall backwards into a polygamist system where it was acceptable or at least unchallenged for men to be with multiple partners. Gatsby and Daisy’s relationship suggests that not moving on from older relationships, or choosing the wrong person can lead to built-up feelings of frustration and infatuation. The three affairs show how when ideas about marriage are not taken seriously, people themselves do not take it seriously and begin exploring other options. A disregard for marriage is shown by Gatsby when he confronts Tom and claims that Daisy will leave him, as he expects that she should leave Tom despite their status as married couple with a child, showing complete ignorance to the obligations that come with being part of a family.While Tom is a hypocrite, he does make the point that ‘Nowadays people begin by sneering at family life and institutions’, iterating how a libertarian atmosphere leads to a break down in institutions. He demonstrates the extremes to which marriage is being abused by claiming that, ‘next they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white’, which while being a very racist comment, emphasises the extent to which the idea of marriage was being changed in at the time. Marriage is presented as breaking down within the novel and leading to bad relationships if not taken seriously.

In conclusion, family relationships are negatively presented by Fitzgerald as breaking down and becoming something to be measured by value along with everything in the 1920s. Children are treated as possessions and often neglected. Marriage is often abused and the characters form multiple relationships, many of which end badly demonstrating how the 1920s was a time of luxury and freedom, which often broke institution and the importance of families.

Tristan

Winter Swans - Zaneta

Winter Swans – Zaneta

The clouds have given their all,

until the long wanted victory – two days of rain.

Yet the dim spell broken – a break, in which we walked,

walked the suffocating earth of moisture,

 a waterlog gulping for clean air at our feet,

as we skirted the water pond or rather a freshwater,

crystal clear, but silent.

Violins then were not in tune.

Until the swans approached

 and stopped the time of the tormenting reality,

by the smooth tipping

like two violins streaming in a unison of a sonata.

The violins then halved in parts

as did the swans in the dark clean pond,

the tipping feather of white,

paused and reluctantly wavered

as if boats bound to countering the dusky storm.

‘They mate for life’ was what you said

 as they left in the even waters of porcelain,

 as if spelled by the already tuned violins.

I didn’t answer, as we further walked through the afternoon light,

slow-stepping by this porcelain,

our hands were already bonded,

where main violin played the cadenza at its climax

Those hands folded one over another,

akin to those wings of a swan,

settling after the dim spell broken.

Marking some more Time - Tristan

Marking some more Time

The mark we branded is fading slowly,

losing clarity like a memory,

a tapestry to tell of that night of irresistible passion

which pulled you and I to the floor,

where we together created a rip,

a tear in the fabric of ideas plus reality

a trademark, crafted on your skin.

With every wave upon wave, I map

the charted marks on your broken skin,

like captain and ocean, one and the same.

one being moving uncontrollably,

chiselling the sign

that will last forever, shows how

We are together.

             

Extra End Chapter For Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit - Tara

It was snowing. I watched as the white flakes slowly danced in the wind before finally coming to rest on the blanket of snow that had already started to form while we ate. The windows had frost around the edges, making patterns. I traced them with my finger. We hardly ever have snow before christmas. 

"Jeanette!"

I shook my head and looked up at Mari. Her black hair was curling slightly from where the straighteners had started to wear off. It tumbled over her shoulders, moving when she talked. She'd pinned part of it back with a golden pin that had started to fall out. Her cherry lipstick had smudged slightly at the corner of her mouth and her face was flushed from the heat of the restaurant.

"Jeanette!"

I blinked. "What?"

"What are you dreaming about?" she smiled. She had a dimple on her right cheek when she smiled.

I said nothing and continued eating my lasagne. She looked at me, confused, her brow creasing slightly in the middle as they always did when she was concerned. I took a small sip of wine and sat back in my chair, looking at her.

"Marry me" I said.

"What?" she laughed. "We are married".

I rolled my eyes. "A civil partnership isn't a marriage." I watched her as she smiled inquisitively at me, brushing a few strands of brown hair from her eyes. "I want you to be my wife."

"But I am your wife" she teased, pointing at the gold ring on her finger.

"No you're not" I sighed "not really."

Her smile faded slightly, and she looked down to start picking at her scarlet nail varnish, and I saw her  eyes dart nervously around to see if anyone had been listening.

"Why?" she asked. "Why now? I'm fifty years old, I'm too old to be getting married!"

I laughed "since when is there an expiry date?" She didn't look any more convinced. I leaned across the table to hold her hands but she twitched them away. "I want you to be my wife" I whispered "not my… my partner. We're not two kids doing a science experiment together, we're in love"

She looks at me, her brow creased and lips pursed. "I just… we wouldn't even be able to find a priest and who'd- "

"Mari!" I cut her off "this is 2014, being gay is practically fashionable now!"

She laughed, but the worry in her eyes didn't disappear as it should, "but-"

"No buts!" I broke in gently. "Mari, this isn't the seventies anymore."

She smiled resignedly and reached over the table to squeeze my hand. I squeezed back, feeling the cold metal of her ring press into my hand. "So will you marry me?" I asked hopefully. She didn't answer and went back to her meal. Knowing not to push the matter, I did the same.

After the meal we walked mitten in mitten through the snow, not talking, just listening to it crunch beneath our feet. I looked over at Mari, my hood giving me tunnel vision. Her face was partially covered by her scarf, her nose and ears red at the tips and her cheeks flushed. Her eyelashes were wet from the snowflakes and there was a tear coming from one eye because her eyes water in the wind when she's walking. Some of her hair had escaped her hat at the back and was now soaking. She turned to look at me. My breath was coming out in puffs of smoke.

"Chocolate?" she asked, motioning to the store next to us. I nodded soundlessly and followed her up the steps inside. I was immediately assaulted by an overwhelming smell of sweetness that seemed to melt the snow off of my clothes almost as soon as I stepped inside. It baffled me how such a tiny room could smell so strongly that it nearly made me gag. I stood in a corner, picking at the faded green paint on the windowpane as she chose what she wanted. I was angry. Why was she not happy. Why didn't she want the world to know about our love. I was tired of secrets. Tired of having to hide who I was. I thought of Melanie so eagerly repenting in church, pretending not to know me on the street. I thought of Katy, leaving me to face the wrath of our church while she got away. Why was everyone so afraid of what everyone else thought? 

I saw that Mari had chosen and was paying. The short, dumpy woman on the other side of the counter watched for a while as she searched her bag for an extra ten pence, and then decided that she'd go to the back to fetch some extra stock. I impatiently sighed and stuck a hand into my pocket, retrieving ten pence. I hand it over and she placed it on the counter. We said nothing for a while, waiting for short, dumpy woman to return.

Mari muttered something quietly.

"What?" I asked irritably.

She looked up at me. "Yes"

"Yes?"

"Yes I will marry you."

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Y- You-"

I was interrupted by the return of short dumpy woman. She handed Mari the chocolate, scowling and I beamed back "Thank you!"

It was all I could do to not skip out of the shop and dance along the road. As we walked we discussed the wedding. Everything, from what we would wear to who we would invite, was decided in five minutes or less. It had started to snow again, and I looked up to the sky, letting the snowflakes land on my face and tongue. 

"Will you invite your mum?" I looked at her. I thought of my mother, how she looked at me when she found out about Melanie and Katy, how she banned me from Elsie's funeral.

"No."

Mari shrugged and offered me a piece of Terry's Chocolate Orange.

"No thanks." I smiled "I hate oranges."

Oranges Missing Chapter Tristan

MIRIAM

When Moses died, it was time for a new beginning, the Israelites were free, and the laws had been set before them. It was the turn of Joshua to hear from God. God said to them, “Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses.’ Moses was not permitted to enter the Promised Land. No matter how many times I read Deuteronomy, I cannot get my head around it. He tried so hard and for so long, only to be told he cannot experience his own achievement. In what way is this fair? Is God really good to all who follow him?

For the next few weeks I made sure to visit Melanie as often as possible. With exception of Elsie, she was the only person whose company I enjoyed. At school, I was not liked. At church, I was liked too much. I didn’t have to meet any expectations when I was with her, I could be myself. She was perfect in everyway.

If I were to be sent from school into the fiery pits of hell, I probably would not notice. The others are so immature. In an RS lesson once, I once heard someone ask how many people fed with five loaves and two fish. They were ignorant, and they ignored me. However, there was nothing I could do. I could see how easy it would be to start a war between my mother and the teachers. As I was walking home I saw two boys sitting on a bench. I say boys, although they were more likely in their early twenties. Both were blonde but one had curly hair, while the other had straight. Just as I was almost out of sight, I saw the straight-haired one take the hand of Curly, and kiss him. I barely registered it until I was through the front door of my mother’s home. I suddenly realised what I had seen, and was shocked that I had walked past, without feeling any disgust or uncleanliness. I began to think that my time with Melanie was softening me up, making me weak. I made a note to tell her the next day.

The next week, Straight-hair turned up at our school, as the new music teacher. I made a note to myself to not talk to him, except to answer the register. After explaining to us about a walking bass, we set to work in groups of seven or eight. When I tried to play out the bass-line of one of my favourite pieces, Lord I lift your name on High, Mr Sairs (I knew his name by now, and I can't keep calling him Straight-hair) came over and mentioned that it was the wrong genre, but that he loved the song too, and that he used to sing it when he was in primary school, and that he loved to sing the tenor part. I wanted to know more about the song in harmony, as we only ever sang it in unison, but I resisted. 'Yes', was all I could say. A boy called out to him, 'sir, who was that man you were with the other day? Was he your brother?' 'No' was the reply, as he went over to another group.

A few weeks later my mother came home with a bag of oranges, complaining about someone as usual. Today, she complained for an hour about Mrs Perryson going on holiday and shutting the bookshop. Mrs. White was also around for afternoon tea. As I went up the stairs I overheard them talking. A teacher at my school had decided to end his own life, and that the school was having to deal with enquiries from the police, and complaints from parents. 'Good riddance. How shameful employing someone like that anyway.' I heard my mother say. I had decided something, the time had come for me to tell her how I felt when with Melanie, and finally answer her questions about the amount of time I spend with her. I decided to get it over with. I wanted to be nice to her. But sometimes, trying to be nice just isn’t enough.

Ham went to find his father and saw him lying on the ground, drunk and naked. He told his brothers and tried to help cover up his father, but could not do it. Noah, seeing what his son had done, cursed the sons of Canaan. Ham had tried to be nice to his father. His reward was for him and his descendants to be the servants of mankind.

Tristan