《了不起的盖茨比·Chapter IX》第6节
His eyes, seeing nothing, moved ceaselessly about the room. “It was a madman,” he said. “He must have been mad.” “Wouldn’t you like some coffee?” I urged him. “I don’t want anything. I’m all right now, Mr.—” “Carraway.” “Well, I’m all right now. Where have they got Jimmy?” I took him into the drawing-room, where his son lay, and left him there. Some little boys had come up on the steps and were looking into the hall; when I told them who had arrived, they went reluctantly away. After a little while Mr. Gatz opened the door and came out, his mouth ajar, his face flushed slightly, his eyes leaking isolated and unpunctual tears. He had reached an age where death no longer has the quality of ghastly surprise, and when he looked around him now for the first time and saw the height and splendour of the hall and the great rooms opening out from it into other rooms, his grief began to be mixed with an awed pride. I helped him to a bedroom upstairs; while he took off his coat and vest I told him that all arrangements had been deferred until he came. “I didn’t know what you’d want, Mr. Gatsby—”
注释摘要
这段文字的核心，是尼克带着盖茨比的父亲去看儿子的遗体。但菲茨杰拉德把最沉重的情感都藏在了细节里，让这些细节自己去说话。 我们先看老人刚被领进音乐室时的状态。“His eyes, seeing nothing, moved ceaselessly about the room.” 他的眼睛什么也看不见，却不停地在房间里转动。这不是观察，而是一种彻底迷失后的机…