By Stuart Mitchner
One of my most vivid memories is of coming back West from prep school and later from college at Christmas time.
—F. Scott Fitzgerald
My preferred Santa of the moment is the one trudging up the Union Square subway stairs on the cover of the December 16 New Yorker, a heavy red bag slung over his shoulder, one hand on the railing, snow falling. I like the noirish urban darkness of Eric Drooker’s image, the way the Con Ed building is framed, the fading portrait of a beloved city against a blank sky. I also like the touch of mortal menace. Will Santa make it to his next stop before he’s mugged or run down by a drunken driver?
The Poetry of Gatsby
The epigraph I’ve used here comes from F. Scott Fitzgerald and may sound routinely autobiographical, but is actually crucial to The Great Gatsby, which will celebrate its centenary next year. Nick Carraway’s line about coming home from college at Christmas sets the stage for the concluding reference to Gatsby’s dream, “which must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.” That’s where the poem that is The Great Gatsby truly ends; the two short paragraphs that follow, about the “orgastic future” and “boats against the current,” are prosaic and workmanlike by comparison. more