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The Great Gatsby - Chapter Two | Full Audiobook · Chapter by Chapter — The Lost Library

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Welcome back to chapter by chapter, the audiobook
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experience. We're continuing The Great
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Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald. If this is your first time here,
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start from the beginning of this season and follow Nick
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Carraway's story from the very start.
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And if you've been with us since Chapter 1, welcome back.
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The story is just getting started.
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Follow the show so you never miss a chapter and drop a
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comment with the classic you want us to read next.
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Now sit back and let's continue the story.
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Chapter 2. Midway between West Egg and New
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York, the highway abruptly converges, with the railroad
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running parallel for a short stretch before veering away from
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a bleak expanse of land. This is the Valley of Ashes, A
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surreal landscape where ashes rise like crops into ridges and
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mounds, forming grotesque gardens where they shape
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themselves into houses, chimneys, and spiraling smoke,
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and ultimately, with an extraordinary exertion, into ash
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Gray figures of men who shuffle dimly and already disintegrating
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through the dusty air. Occasionally a line of Gray cars
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creeps along an unseen track, emitting A ghostly Creek before
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halting, prompting the ash Gray men to swarm with heavy spades,
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stirring up an impenetrable cloud that conceals their
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shadowy labor. Yet above this Gray wasteland
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and the relentless drift of desolate dust, you eventually
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notice, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor TJ Eckleburg.
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The eyes of Doctor TJ Eckelberg loom large and blue, their
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retinas towering a full yard in height.
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They peer out not from a face, but from a pair of massive
1:52
yellow spectacles that rest upon an imaginary nose.
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It seems some eccentric optometrist erected them here to
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boost his business in Queens, only to later vanish into
2:04
obscurity or simply abandoned them as he moved on.
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Yet these eyes, slightly doled by countless days exposed to the
2:12
elements, continue to gaze solemnly over the desolate
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wasteland. This valley of ashes is bordered
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by a small polluted river and when the drawbridge rises to let
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barges pass, passengers on the waiting trains are left to
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contemplate the bleak landscape for up to half an hour.
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There's always a pause of at least a minute, and it was
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during one such pause that I first encountered Tom Buchanan's
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mistress. The fact that Tom had a mistress
2:42
was common knowledge wherever he went.
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His friends were irked by his habit of appearing with her in
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well known cafes, only to leave her at a table while he wandered
2:52
around chatting with acquaintances.
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Although I was intrigued to see her, I had no real wish to meet
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her. Yet meet her I did.
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One afternoon I traveled to New York with Tom, and when our
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train halted by the ash heaps, he sprang up, grabbed my elbow
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and practically dragged me from the car.
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We're getting off, he insisted. I want you to meet my girl.
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I suspect he had indulged quite a bit at lunch, and his
3:19
insistence on my company was almost aggressive.
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He seemed to assume, with a touch of arrogance, that I had
3:26
nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon.
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We climbed over a low, whitewashed railroad fence and
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walked about 100 yards back along the road, all the while
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under the unyielding gaze of Doctor Eckleburg's eyes.
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The only structure insight was a small block of yellow brick
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perched on the edge of the desolate landscape, resembling A
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compact Main Street that served no one and stood isolated.
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Of the three shops it housed, one was available for rent,
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another was an all night diner accessible via a path of ashes,
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and the third was a garage repairs.
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George B Wilson cars bought and sold and I trailed Tom inside.
4:09
The interior was bleak and uninviting.
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The only vehicle insight was a dust covered wreck of a Ford
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huddled in a dim corner. I briefly entertained the notion
4:20
that this unimpressive garage might be a front concealing
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luxurious and romantic apartments above when the owner
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appeared in the doorway of a small office wiping his hands on
4:31
a rag. He was a blonde, lifeless man,
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pale and somewhat handsome in a whan way.
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Upon seeing us, a faint spark of hope flickered in his light blue
4:43
eyes. Hello, Wilson, old man.
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Tom greeted him, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder.
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How's business? Tom asked.
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Wilson replied. I can't complain, though his
4:55
tone suggested otherwise. When are you going to sell me
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that car? Next week.
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I've got my guy working on it now.
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Seems like he's taking his time, doesn't he?
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Tom's voice turned cold. No, he's not, and if that's how
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you feel, maybe I should sell it to someone else.
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Wilson quickly backtracked. I didn't mean it like that, I
5:17
just meant. His words trailed off as Tom
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impatiently surveyed the garage. Footsteps echoed from the
5:23
stairs, and soon a woman filled the doorway, blocking the light.
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She was in her mid 30s, slightly plump, yet she carried herself
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with a sensual confidence that some women possess.
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Her face above a dark blow crepe de chine dress lacked
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traditional beauty, but she exuded A palpable vitality, as
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if her very nerves were alive with a slow burn.
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She smiled languidly and without turning, addressed her husband
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in a voice that was soft and rough.
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Why don't you get some chairs so people can sit down?
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Oh, sure. Wilson agreed hastily,
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disappearing into the small office blending with the cement
6:05
colored walls. A fine layer of ash and dust
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covered his dark suit and pale hair, as did everything except
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his wife, who moved closer to Tom.
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I want to see you. Tom said with intensity.
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Catch the next train. OK, I'll meet you by the
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newsstand on the lower level. She nodded and moved away just
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as George Wilson appeared, carrying two chairs from his
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office. We waited for her down the road,
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hidden from view. It was a few days before the 4th
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of July and a thin, scrappy Italian child was lining up
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firecrackers along the railroad track.
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Terrible place, isn't it? Tom said, sharing a grimace with
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Doctor Eckleburg. Awful.
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It's good for her to get away. Doesn't her husband mind Wilson?
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He thinks she's visiting her sister in New York.
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He's so clueless he doesn't even know he's alive.
7:02
So Tom Buchanan, his girl, and I headed to New York together.
7:06
Or not quite together. Since Missus Wilson sat
7:09
discreetly in another car, Tom respected the sensibilities of
7:13
any E Eggers who might be on the train.
7:16
She had changed into a brown patterned muslin dress, which
7:20
clung tightly over her rather wide hips as Tom helped her onto
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the platform. In New York.
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At the newsstand, she picked up a copy of Town Tattle and a
7:29
movie magazine, and at the Station drugstore she bought
7:33
some cold cream and a small bottle of perfume.
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Upstairs, in the solemn, echoing Dr. she let 4 taxis pass before
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choosing a new one, lavender with Gray upholstery, and in
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this we slipped out from the station's throng into the bright
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sunshine. But then she abruptly turned
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away from the window, leaned forward and tapped on the front
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glass with intent. I want to get one of those dogs,
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she said with genuine enthusiasm.
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I want one for the apartment. It's nice to have a dog around.
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We reversed towards an elderly man who bore A striking
8:09
resemblance to John D Rockefeller.
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Hanging from his neck was a basket filled with a dozen very
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young puppies of uncertain lineage.
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What kind are they, Missus? Wilson asked eagerly as he
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approached the taxi window. All sorts.
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What kind are you looking for, ma'am?
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I'd like to get a police dog. You don't happen to have one of
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those, do you? The man squinted into the
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basket, reached in, and pulled out a squirming puppy by the
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scruff of its neck. That's not a police dog, Tom
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remarked. No, it's not exactly a police
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dog, the man admitted, his voice tinged with disappointment.
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It's more of an Airedale. He ran his hand over the puppy's
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soft brown fur. Look at that coat.
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That's quite the coat on that dog.
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You'll never have to worry about it catching a cold.
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I think it's adorable. Missus Wilson exclaimed with
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enthusiasm. How much does it cost that dog?
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He admired it. It'll be $10.
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The Airedale, though clearly mixed with its surprisingly
9:11
white paws, was transferred to Missus Wilson, who cradled it in
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her lap, delighting in its sturdy, weatherproof coat.
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Is it a boy or a girl? She asked with a touch of
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delicacy. That dog, It's a boy.
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It's a girl, Tom asserted firmly.
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Here's your money, go buy 10 more dogs with it.
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We drove over to 5th Ave. which felt warm and gentle, almost
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pastoral on that summer Sunday afternoon.
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I have expected a flock of white sheep to round the corner.
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Hold on, I said. I need to leave you here.
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No, you don't, Tom interjected quickly.
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Myrtle will be upset if you don't come up to the apartment,
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won't you, Myrtle? Come on, she insisted.
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I'll call my sister Catherine. People who know say she's very
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beautiful. Well, I'd like to.
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But we continued looping back through the park toward the West
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Hundreds. At 158th St. the cab halted in
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front of a segment of a long white row of apartment buildings
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with a regal air. Missus Wilson gathered her dog
10:12
and her other purchases, casting a queenly glance around the
10:16
neighborhood before entering with an air of haughty
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ownership. I'm going to have the Mckees
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come up, she declared as we ascended in the elevator.
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And of course, I need to call my sister, too.
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The apartment occupied the top floor, a compact living room,
10:31
dining room, bed and bath. The living room was crammed with
10:35
a set of tapestry furniture far too large for the space, making
10:39
it impossible to move without tripping over scenes of ladies
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swinging in the gardens of Versailles.
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The soul artwork was an over enlarged photograph that at
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first glance appeared to be a hen perched on a blurred rock.
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From a distance, however, the hen transformed into a bonnet
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and the face of a stout old lady smiled down into the room.
11:00
Several old issues of Town Tattle were scattered on the
11:03
table alongside a copy of Simon Called Peter and some small
11:07
scandal magazines from Broadway. Misses Wilson's first concern
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was the dog. A reluctant elevator attendant
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fetched a box filled with straw and some milk, adding on his own
11:18
initiative a tin of large hard dog biscuits, one of which
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languidly dissolved in the saucer of milk throughout the
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afternoon. Meanwhile, Tom retrieved a
11:27
bottle of whiskey from a locked Bureau drawer.
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I've only been drunk twice in my life, and the second time was
11:34
that afternoon, so everything that happened is shrouded in a
11:37
dim, hazy fog, even though the apartment was bathed in cheerful
11:42
sunlight until after 8:00. Perched on Tom's lap, Mrs.
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Wilson made several phone calls. Then, finding ourselves without
11:50
cigarettes, I went out to buy some of the corner drugstore.
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When I returned, they had both vanished, so I discreetly
11:56
settled into the living room and attempted to read a chapter of
12:00
Simon Called Peter. Either it was dreadful writing
12:03
or the whiskey muddled my exception because it made no
12:06
sense to me. Just as Tom and Myrtle after the
12:10
first drink, Misses Wilson and I were on first name basis,
12:13
reappeared, guests began to arrive at the apartment door.
12:17
Catherine, the sister, was a slender, worldly woman around
12:21
30, with a solid, sticky Bob of red hair and a complexion
12:25
powdered to a Milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked
12:28
and redrawn at a more daring angle, yet nature's attempts to
12:32
restore their original alignment lent her face a blurred quality.
12:37
As she moved, there was a constant clicking from the
12:40
numerous pottery bracelets jangling up and down her arms.
12:44
She entered with such proprietary urgency, surveying
12:47
the furniture with such possessiveness, that I wondered
12:50
if she lived there. When I asked her, she burst into
12:54
laughter almost uncontrollably, echoed my question with
12:57
amusement, and mentioned she was staying at a hotel with a female
13:00
friend. Mr. McKee, a pale, somewhat
13:03
effeminate man from the apartment below, had just
13:06
shaved, evidenced by a lingering spot of shaving cream on his
13:10
cheekbone. He greeted everyone in the room
13:12
with utmost respect. He mentioned he was in the
13:15
artistic game, and I later understood he was a photographer
13:19
responsible for the dim enlargement of Mrs. Wilson's
13:21
mother that loomed like a ghostly presence on the wall.
13:25
His wife was a striking yet unsettling figure, both shrill
13:30
and languid. She boasted that her husband had
13:32
taken her photograph 127 times since their marriage.
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Mrs. Wilson had changed outfits earlier and was now wearing an
13:40
elaborate cream colored chiffon afternoon dress which rustled
13:44
continuously as she moved around the room.
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The dress seemed to transform her personality.
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The vibrant energy she had displayed at the garage morphed
13:53
into a commanding arrogance. Her laughter, gestures and
13:56
declarations grew increasingly exaggerated with each passing
14:00
moment, and as she asserted herself, the room seemed to
14:03
shrink around her, making her seem as if she were spinning on
14:07
a noisy, creaking axis through the smoky air.
14:10
My dear to her sister in a high affected voice.
14:14
Most of these guys will cheat you every time.
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All they care about is money. I had a woman come by last week
14:20
to check on my feet, and when she handed me the bill, you'd
14:23
think she'd performed surgery on me.
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What was her name? Missus McKee inquired.
14:28
Missus Eberhardt. She visits people at home to
14:32
examine their feet. I love your dress, Missus McKee
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commented. It's absolutely charming.
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Missus Wilson dismissed the compliment with a disdainful
14:42
lift of her eyebrow. Oh, it's just an old thing, she
14:46
replied. I throw it on when I don't care
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how I look, but it really suits you, if you know what I mean,
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Missus McKee insisted. If Chester could capture you in
14:55
that pose, I think he could create something special.
14:59
We all turned our attention to Missus Wilson, who brushed a
15:02
strand of hair from her eyes and flashed us a dazzling smile.
15:06
Mr. McKee studied her closely, tilting his head to one side,
15:11
then slowly waved his hand in front of his face.
15:14
I should adjust the lighting. He said after a pause.
15:17
I'd like to really capture the contours of the face, and I'd
15:21
make sure to gather all the hair at the back.
15:24
I wouldn't dream of changing the lighting.
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Exclaimed Mrs. McKee. I think it's just her husband
15:29
interrupted with A and we all turned our attention back to the
15:33
subject. At that moment, Tom Buchanan
15:36
yawned loudly and stood up. You Mckees should have something
15:40
to drink, he suggested. Myrtle, get some more ice in
15:43
mineral water before everyone falls asleep.
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I already told that boy about the ice, Myrtle said, raising
15:50
her eyebrows and exasperation at the unreliability of the lower
15:54
classes. These people, you have to
15:56
constantly supervise them. She glanced at me and laughed
16:00
without reason, then dramatically moved over to the
16:02
dog, kissed it with delight, and swept into the kitchen as if a
16:06
team of chefs awaited her commands.
16:09
I've done some impressive work out on Long Island.
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Mr. McKee declared. Tom looked at him with a blank
16:15
expression. We have two of them framed
16:17
downstairs. Two what?
16:19
Tom asked sharply. 2 paintings. One I call Montauk Point the
16:24
Gulls, and the other Montauk Point the Sea.
16:28
Catherine, the sister, settled beside me on the couch.
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Do you live on Long Island too? She asked.
16:34
I live in West Egg. Really.
16:36
I was at a party there about a month ago at a man named
16:39
Gatsby's. Do you know him?
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I live next door to him. Well, they say he's a nephew or
16:45
cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm. That's where all his money comes
16:48
from. Really.
16:50
She nodded. I'm a bit afraid of him.
16:52
I'd hate for him to have anything on me.
16:55
Our conversation about my neighbor was cut short when Mrs.
16:58
Mckees suddenly pointed at Catherine Chester.
17:01
I think you could do something with her.
17:03
She exclaimed, but Mr. McKee merely nodded with disinterest
17:07
and turned his focus to Tom. I'd like to do more work on Long
17:10
Island if I could get an opportunity.
17:12
All I need is a start. Ask Myrtle.
17:15
Tom said, breaking into a sudden burst of laughter as Mrs. Wilson
17:19
came in with a tray. You'll write him a letter of
17:21
introduction, won't you, Myrtle? Do what?
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She asked, caught off guard. You'll give McKee a letter of
17:28
introduction to your husband so he can do some sketches of him.
17:31
His lips moved silently for a moment as he concocted George B
17:36
Wilson at the gas pump. Or something like that.
17:39
Catherine leaned close and whispered to me.
17:41
Neither of them can stand their spouses.
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Really can't stand them? She glanced at Myrtle, then at
17:48
Tom. I mean, why stay with them if
17:50
they can't stand each other? If I were them, I'd get a
17:53
divorce and marry each other right away.
17:56
Doesn't she like Wilson either? The response was unexpected.
18:00
It came from Myrtle, who had overheard the question, and it
18:03
was harsh and vulgar, you see? Catherine exclaimed
18:07
triumphantly. She lowered her voice again.
18:10
It's really his wife that's keeping them apart.
18:12
She's Catholic, and they don't believe in divorce.
18:15
Daisy wasn't Catholic, and I was taken aback by the complexity of
18:19
the lie. When they do get married,
18:21
Catherine continued. They're heading West to live for
18:24
a while until things settle down.
18:26
It would be more discreet to go to Europe.
18:29
Oh, do you like Europe? She exclaimed unexpectedly.
18:32
I just got back from Monte Carlo, Really.
18:35
Just last year I went over there with another girl.
18:38
Stay long. No, we just went to Monte Carlo
18:41
and back. We traveled through Marseille.
18:43
We had over $1200 when we started, but we got swindled out
18:47
of it all in two days. In the private rooms.
18:50
We had a terrible time getting back, I can tell you.
18:53
God, how I hated that town. The late afternoon sky blossomed
18:57
in the window for a moment, like the blue honey of the
19:00
Mediterranean. Then Mrs. Mckee's sharp voice
19:03
pulled me back into the room. I almost made a mistake, too,
19:07
she declared with vigor. I almost married a guy who'd
19:10
been chasing me for years. I knew he wasn't on my level.
19:13
Everyone kept telling me, Lucille, he's beneath you.
19:17
But if I hadn't met Chester, he would have gotten me for sure.
19:20
But yeah, but listen, said Myrtle Wilson, nodding
19:23
emphatically. At least you didn't marry him.
19:26
I know I didn't. Well, I did, Myrtle said with a
19:30
hint of irony. And that's the difference
19:32
between your situation and mine. Why did you, Myrtle?
19:36
Catherine asked. No one made you do it.
19:38
Myrtle paused to think. I married him because I thought
19:42
he was a gentleman, she finally said.
19:44
I thought he had some class, but he wasn't worth the dirt on my
19:47
shoes. You were crazy about him for a
19:50
while, Katherine remarked. Crazy about him?
19:53
Myrtle exclaimed incredulously. Who said I was crazy about him?
19:57
I was never any more crazy about him than I am about that man
20:01
there. She suddenly pointed at me and
20:03
everyone turned to look at me accusingly.
20:06
I tried to convey through my expression that I wasn't
20:09
expecting any affection. The only time I was truly out of
20:13
my mind was when I married him. I realized immediately it was a
20:16
mistake. He borrowed someone else's best
20:19
suit for the wedding and never mentioned it to me.
20:22
One day the owner came to collect it while he was out.
20:25
Oh, is that your suit? I asked.
20:27
This is the first I've heard of it, but I handed it over and
20:30
then lay down and cried my heart out all afternoon.
20:34
She really should leave him. Catherine continued speaking to
20:37
me. They've been living above that
20:39
garage for 11 years, and Tom's the first real romance she's
20:43
ever had. The bottle of whiskey, a second
20:46
one, was now in constant demand by everyone except Catherine,
20:50
who claimed she felt just as good without it.
20:52
Tom called for the janitor and sent him to fetch some renowned
20:55
sandwiches, which were practically a meal in their own.
20:59
I wanted to escape and walk eastward toward the park through
21:02
the gentle twilight, but each time I tried to leave I got
21:06
caught up in some wild, loud argument that seemed to pull me
21:09
back into my chair as if bound by ropes.
21:12
Yet high above the city, our row of yellow lit windows must have
21:17
added their own layer of human mystery to the casual observer
21:20
in the darkening streets below, and I imagined him looking up,
21:23
wondering. I was both inside and outside,
21:27
simultaneously captivated and repelled by life'll endless
21:31
variety. Myrtle moved her chair closer to
21:34
mine and suddenly her warm breath enveloped me as she began
21:38
to recount the story of her first meeting with Tom.
21:41
It was on those two little seats facing each other, the ones
21:44
always left until last on the train.
21:47
I was heading up to New York to visit my sister and stay the
21:50
night. He was dressed in a tuxedo with
21:52
shiny patent leather shoes, and I couldn't take my eyes off him,
21:56
but every time he glanced my way, I had to pretend I was
22:00
interested in the advertisement above his head.
22:02
As we pulled into the station, he stood right beside me, his
22:06
crisp white shirt brushing against my arm.
22:09
I jokingly said I'd call a policeman, but he saw through my
22:12
bluff. I was so caught up in the moment
22:15
that when I climbed into a taxi with him it I felt like I was
22:18
stepping onto a subway train. The only thought echoing in my
22:21
mind was you can't live forever. You can't live forever.
22:26
She turned to Missus McKee, her laughter filling the room with a
22:29
hollow, practiced sound. My dear, I'm going to give you
22:33
this dress as soon as I'm done with it.
22:35
I need to get a new one tomorrow.
22:37
I'm going to make a list of everything I need.
22:40
A massage, a hair wave, a collar for the dog, one of those
22:44
adorable ashtrays with the spring mechanism, and a teeth
22:47
with a black silk bow for my mother's grave that will last
22:51
all summer. I have to write it all down so I
22:54
don't forget everything I need to do.
22:56
It was 9:00. Almost immediately after, I
22:59
checked my watch and realized it was 10:00.
23:02
Mr. McKee was slumped in a chair, fists clenched in his
23:06
lap, resembling a photograph of a man poised for action.
23:09
I took out my handkerchief and wiped away the dried lather from
23:13
his cheek that had bothered me all afternoon.
23:16
A small dog sat on the table, staring blankly through the haze
23:20
of smoke, occasionally letting out a faint groan.
23:24
People came and went, made plans to head somewhere, only to lose
23:29
track of each other, search, and then find one another just a few
23:33
steps away. Around midnight, Tom Buchanan
23:37
and Misses Wilson stood face to face, their voices heeded,
23:42
arguing over whether Misses Wilson had the right to mention
23:45
Daisy's name. Daisy.
23:48
Daisy. Daisy, Misses Wilson shouted
23:52
defiantly. I'll say it whenever I want to,
23:55
Daisy Day. With a swift, practiced motion,
24:00
Tom Buchanan struck her, breaking her nose with his open
24:04
hand. After that, the bathroom floor
24:07
was littered with bloody towels. Women's voices rose in scolding
24:11
tones, and above the chaos, a long, broken wail of pain
24:16
echoed. Mr. McKee awoke from his nap,
24:19
disoriented, and began to shuffle toward the door.
24:23
Halfway there, he paused, taking in the chaotic scene.
24:27
His wife and Catherine were bustling about, alternating
24:31
between reprimanding and comforting as they navigated the
24:34
cramped room, laden with items meant to help.
24:38
On the couch lay a forlorn figure, bleeding profusely,
24:43
attempting to shield the ornate Versailles tapestry with a copy
24:47
of Town Tanel. After a moment, Mr. McKee turned
24:51
and continued out the door. I retrieved my hat from the
24:55
chandelier and followed him. Join me for lunch sometime.
24:59
He proposed as we descended in the elevator with a groan.
25:03
Where? Anywhere.
25:05
Keep your hands off the lever. The elevator boy barked.
25:09
My apologies. Mr. McKee replied with
25:11
composure. I didn't realize I was touching
25:14
it. Sure, I said.
25:16
I'd be happy to. I found myself beside his bed,
25:20
where he sat up in his underwear, nestled between the
25:23
sheets, holding a large portfolio.
25:26
Beauty and the Beast, Loneliness.
25:30
Old grocery horse. Brooklyn Bridge.
25:33
Later, I was half asleep in the chilly lower level of
25:37
Pennsylvania Station, gazing at the morning Tribune and waiting
25:41
for the 4:00 train. And that brings us to the close
25:45
of this chapter of The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald.
25:50
What began as a detour through the Gray wasteland of the Valley
25:54
of Ashes ended in a smoky New York apartment, whiskey,
25:58
strangers, and a night that spiraled out of control.
26:03
We met Myrtle Wilson, vivid and restless, reaching for a life
26:08
she believes she deserves. We watched Nick get pulled into
26:12
a world he didn't ask to enter, and we saw exactly what Tom
26:17
Buchanan is capable of. When someone steps out of line,
26:21
the cracks beneath the glamour are widening.
26:25
Thank you for listening to chapter by Chapter, the
26:28
audiobook experience. If this story is pulling you in,
26:32
follow the show so the next chapter finds you automatically.
26:36
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waiting for you.