The Gay Gatsby

The Gay Gatsby: Reading The Great Gatsby Through a Queer Lens

 

     The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald is considered one of the greatest novels to ever be written in English. Gatsby, to this day, is widely taught, debated, and has unequivocally assumed a spot within the public consciousness. As this book has been read, discussed, and analyzed time and time again, most readers find merit in the novel due to Fitzgerald’s denial of the so-called “American Dream”. However, when I read The Great Gatsby as a young queer student, I walked away with a very different message: that Nick Carraway was in love with Jay Gatsby. But Gatsby remains popular today due to its denial of the American Dream. Not only that, but the novel is overtly about the American Dream; readers needn’t interpret the text in order to get to that understanding. In order to understand Gatsby through a queer lens, we have to understand a “subtext” of the novel. In “Against Interpretation,” author Susan Sontag argues that interpretation as an act of translation, saying that this actually means this, ultimately detracts from the value of a piece of art. Though the most accepted interpretation of The Great Gatsby fits within Sontag’s ideas of interpretation, reading the novel through a queer lens, rather than devaluing the novel as Sontag suggests, reframes Gatsby in a modern setting and ultimately adds new value to the novel. 

     One of the most treasured interpretations of The Great Gatsby is that it focuses on the failure of the “American Dream”. The American Dream is the belief that every American has the opportunity for success and riches. In his novel, Fitzgerald writes of Gatsby in his path to attaining the American Dream and his ultimate inability to live that dream. Fitzgerald sets Gatsby on this path by situating him within a classic “rags to riches” story. Fitzgerald first focuses on Gatsby’s exorbitant wealth: “On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains” (32). Rather than having people transport themselves to his party, Gatsby uses his own fancy cars to tote guests to and fro, just as a chance to show off his wealth. Later in the novel, once Gatsby’s wealth is obvious, Fitzgerald reveals that Gatsby wasn’t always so great, but rather grew up poor and had to work as a fisherman. “Jay Gatsby” is this persona Gatsby made up in order to escape that poor life he once led (Fitzgerald 75). However, even after living this part of the American Dream, Gatsby remains unsatisfied and still has his unrequited love, Daisy, whom he believes he needs in order to live his true life, in order to attain this “dream”. Ultimately, Gatsby never gets Daisy, and Fitzgerald establishes the American Dream as unattainable. This interpretation of Gatsby fits firmly within the bounds of Sontag’s accepted interpretation. In her essay, Sontag discourages any sort of interpretation that “excavates, and as it excavates, destroys; it digs “behind” the text, to find a sub-text which is the true one” (4). Fitzgerald’s message of the failure of the American Dream exists at the very surface of this novel, yet this interpretation of Gatsby is one of the reasons the novel retains such popularity. This novel was released at a time when the American Dream was still widely accepted and sought after. Fitzgerald was ahead of his time in recognizing the failings of it. Gatsby remains valuable today, specifically in classroom environments, as a way to teach about the American Dream. Even without interpretation, Gatsby retains value today due to the historical significance of its discussion of the American Dream. 

     Though it relies on a subtext, by looking at Gatsby through a queer lens, we can reframe the novel in a modern context as well as give representation to queer people in an outdated novel. My understanding of The Great Gatsby as being queer relies entirely on creating a subtext. However, there is, actually, one specific scene within Gatsby in which Nick’s queerness is mentioned a bit more overtly. There’s a scene in the novel where Nick is drunk after a party and is in an elevator with Mr. McKee, who lives downstairs from Nick’s college friend’s mistress. Fitzgerald writes:

 … I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands. “Beauty and the Beast … Loneliness … Old Grocery Horse … Brook’n Bridge …” Then I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning TRIBUNE, and waiting for the four o’clock train. (31) 

This occurred just after Mr. McKee asked Nick to lunch with him and Nick agreed. Given the time in which this novel was written, I think it’s safe to say that no two heterosexual men would be caught lounging around each other in their underwear. Gatsby was released in a time before the Stonewall riots, before the existence of queer people was more central to our nation’s thinking. Given the time period in which this scene was written, the scene is more obviously queer. While this scene is clearly queer, requiring no interpretation to reach that understanding, in order to add the value I previously claimed to this novel, more than just this one scene must be looked at through a queer lens.

     When I first read Gatsby, my understanding of Nick as queer came not from this scene, but rather from his interactions with Gatsby. The very first time Nick saw Gatsby, he focused on him in great detail, noticing how as “he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling” (Fitzgerald 19). When I first read this scene, the intensity with which Nick watched and described Gatsby felt as though it came straight out of a cheesy queer romance novel. As I continued reading, Nick’s obsession with Gatsby felt a lot less like a fascination with his life and his character and a lot more like a crush. This was further affirmed in the language Nick used when describing Gatsby: “If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life … it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again” (Fitzgerald 5). This line, at face value, is about Nick’s fascination with Gatsby, his obsession with his apparently desirable life. But, focusing on the latter half of the line, this “romantic readiness… which it is not likely [Nick] shall ever find again,” could represent Nick’s romantic attachment to Gatsby, an attachment that he can’t seem to shake (Fitzgerald 5). By saying that this fascination actually means attraction, readers create a subtext wherein Nick is in love with Gatsby rather than just infatuated. While the previously cited scene may be more clearly queer, this interpretation of Nick being in love with Gatsby expands the thinking of that scene to the entire novel. Though this interpretation is an act of translation, it ultimately adds to the value of this novel, as it allows us to view the entire novel, rather than just the one scene, through a queer lens. 

     The interpretation of Gatsby as a discussion of the American Dream and its failures may be the most popular, but the interpretation of Gatsby as queer has its own merit. Reading Gatsby in the tenth grade, I sat at my desk, giggling at each and every line that I thought proved Nick loved Gatsby. That was the first time I was able to see myself, a part of my experience, in a school-assigned novel. By searching for this subtext in Gatsby, readers have an opportunity to give themselves representation they would otherwise lack. Reading Gatsby through this queer lens gave the novel a lot more value in my eyes, as a queer person. As a reader, I have found that seeing my queer identity represented in a novel is very important to me. This representation within novels is important to other queer readers as well. Thanks to interpretation, this novel can have a lot more value for readers who may see themselves in that queer subtext. This gives art value as the value of a piece of art lies not in the art itself. Instead, the value of art is an entirely individual thing; while a work of art may be valuable/important to one person, it could be worthless to another. Through interpretation, we are able to attribute to the piece what we need so it has value for us. Another point of merit towards this interpretation is that it casts Gatsby, which is in many ways an outdated text, in a modern lens. In her essay, the sort of interpretation that Sontag argues against is the “interpretation [that] was summoned, to reconcile the ancient texts to ‘modern’ demands” (3). And yet, one of the tests of  a classic novel is its ability to withstand the test of time. How can a novel remain relevant without interpretation? Through interpretation, a novel can be seen in a million different ways. However, if we stifle interpretation as Sontag suggests, we will leave many novels behind as we move into the modern era. In the period when Gatsby was published, queer representation within novels was virtually nonexistent. There was no mainstream call for representation of minorities within literature. Yet queer representation within novels is widely sought after today. This interpretation takes an outdated text and gives it a new meaning that holds a lot of merit in this modern era. By looking at Gatsby through a queer lens the novel gains value for the individual reader due to the new representation but also gains value as it modernizes the story and therefore keeps it relevant. 

     Even as I continually push against Sontag’s “Against Interpretation,” there is one point within her essay with which I agree. Sontag writes: “It doesn’t matter whether artists intend, or don’t intend, for their works to be interpreted” (6). As soon as a piece of work leaves the artist’s hands, it exists for the public to do with what they will. Each consumer will approach a piece of art in a way to draw the value that they need from it. As such, we are in no place to say that there is a right or wrong way to consume art. Even if interpretation truly does “violate art” as Sontag claims, it can also add value that art would otherwise lack (6). With interpretation, we can look at art through many different lenses, making the novel more applicable to many different groups. Today, representation in fiction is essential and widely sought after. However, in Sontag’s time, that wasn’t such a concern. Interpretation can give us representation in novels from a time when they weren’t concerned with representation. As culture adapts, so does the way we interact with a text. Interpretation allows us to make art truly ours. And for art, that’s exactly what it’s meant to be. 

 

 

Works Cited:

 

Fitzgerald, F. Scott (Francis Scott), 1896-1940. The Great Gatsby. New York :C. Scribner’s sons, 1925.

Sontag, Susan. “Against Interpretation.” Against Interpretation, Picador, 1966, pp. 1- 10.