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Genre Apprentice: You will create a narrative that shows Nick at some point during his journey with Daisy Buchanan, Tom Buchanan, Jay Gatsby, and Jordan Baker during the “Roaring Twenties.” YOU ARE WRITING IN NICK’S VOICE; this should feel like an integrated part of the story.
Starting Point:
• You may choose to do one of the following:
• Create an alternate ending.
• Re-write a scene from the novel.
• Create an extra chapter or scene.
• Other idea have checked with me first.
You will create a journal entry of two to two and a half pages:
The entry will be authentic to Nick’s voice as we have come to know it:
___He must describe where he is, both physically and mentally-- specifically mentioning places and events. (How he became the way he is)
___He should talk about some of the ideas that are most important to him.
___He must reference to a symbol or a thematic topic; this needs to be done seamlessly.
___He must mention in some detail his relationship with other important characters.
The journal entry/chapter must use the language of Fitzgerald and The Great Gatsby.
The book is your greatest reference.
Look at the sections that best exemplify Nick’s voice.
It cannot be a “rant” or a simple journal entry. There needs to be a purpose and a single focus.
Informal slang should only be used the way Nick uses it.
Part 1 should REALLY help you with the creation of this writing piece.
The annotations are a great way to see all the stylistic elements Fitzgerald uses to create Nick’s voice.
Consider the following:
• Do not make “2023 assumptions” –the slang and expressions of 2023 are NOT Nick’s language!
Use the language and the conventions of the 1920s as you have learned them while reading The Great Gatsby.
• *****Consider how we have seen Nick behave and talk in the book. Is he scared? Hurt? Afraid? Feeling guilty? Feeling angry? Hopeful at this point? Some of each?
What insights can be revealed in Nick’s words?
___Nick must use hyperbole. (Requirement : 2 different examples)
___Nick must use similes and metaphors to make a point. (Requirement : 4-5 examples)
___Nick must use expressions similar to how he speaks in the rest of the text. (Requirement : 4 examples)
___Nick must make detailed, meaningful references to some experience that involves one of the other main characters- Daisy, Tom, Gatsby, and/or Jordan. (Requirement: 2 extended examples—at least a paragraph each.)
___Nick must talk about and reference one symbol.
___Nick must incorporate one of the key thematic topics.
___The narrative must make sense in terms of the novel as we have read it; in other words, it could be something F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote as supplement to the novel.)
___Length—two to two and one half pages! Broken into paragraphs!!!!
___You must mark each required element neatly above the word or phrase and highlight it!
___Format information:
o Times New Roman12 font, double spaced
o No huge margins! No huge spaces!
o Set up in proper academic fashion. To left of page, top.
All Answers 1
Answered by
GPT-5 mini
AI
Nick Carraway — Journal — Summer, 1922
[PHYSICAL & MENTAL PLACE — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I SIT ON THE LONELY VERANDA OF THE SMALL HOUSE I RENTED IN WEST EGG, THE SEA LIKE A DRY, DISTANT RUMOUR BEHIND ME; MY MIND IS A TIGHT-CLASPED LETTER, SEALED AND YET WITHIN ME THE INK STILL WET.
It is something to be compelled to write when the nights are empty and the air smells of damp grass and spent cigars. I have come to this seat as one comes to a confessional bench, not because I expect absolution, but because the habit of observing will not sleep. I have always been, as I told myself once and perhaps more than once, inclined to reserve all judgments; yet now I find judgment roomy in my chest, like a house with many rooms, each a memory with its portrait hung askew.
[IDEAS IMPORTANT TO NICK — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I CHERISH HONESTY AND TRANQUILITY; THE SIMPLE COMFORT OF DECENCY IS FOR ME A LIGHTHOUSE IN A SHALLOW SEA.
It occurred to me—an idea that will not be shaken—that character, more than circumstances, governs the fate of men and women. I have seen the glitter and the smoke and learned that brightness often masks rot. I confess that I am both repelled and fascinated by the spectacle of their lives; I cannot entirely shake the habit of being within and without, watching the parade and yet keeping my shoes on the steps.
[SYMBOL — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: THE GREEN LIGHT STILL BURNS IN MY MEMORY, A DISTANT BEACON ON DAISY'S DOCK, LIKE A STAR DRIFTING JUST BEYOND ANY HAND.
Gatsby's light haunts me; it is less an object than a weather. It stood, as he stood, at the end of the dock — an emblem of yearning, a midnight lamp for impossible arrivals. I think of it now not as an emblem of vulgar aspiration but as of a human soul trying, with the poor tools it possessed, to stitch the past to the present.
[HYPERBOLE 1 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: HE HAD HOPES SO GREAT THEY MIGHT HAVE MOVED MOUNTAINS IF MOUNTAINS HAD BEEN MADE TO MOVE FOR MEN.
[GATSBY — EXTENDED REFERENCE — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I REMEMBER HIM AS I KNEW HIM — A MAN WHO MADE HIS OWN AUTUMN; HE HAD THE SORT OF FAITH THAT WOULD MAKE THE WEATHER CHANGE IF HE INSISTED.
He was not merely a romantic; he was an architect of illusion, and in that architecture he was magnificent. At the end, when the pool lay like a broken mirror and the lush gardens were mute, I thought of his admissions and of his small, naive insistence that the past could be recaptured as one might re-tie a ribbon. His devotion to Daisy was like a lantern swinging through fog — persistent, a little ridiculous, but honest. I feel, with that peculiar tenderness which is part witness and part complicity, that I have failed him in the only thing that might have been expected of me: to make people understand him.
[SIMILE/METAPHOR 1 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: HIS DREAM WAS A MOTH BEATING ITS WINGS AGAINST THE GLASS OF DAWN.
[DAISY — EXTENDED REFERENCE — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: AND DAISY—SHE WAS A VOICE, NOT A WOMAN; A VOICE THAT CARRIED THE WARMTH OF A MILLION SUMMERS AND THE FRAGILITY OF A CHINA CUP.
I remember her sitting in that chair in the little drawing-room, laughter like silver bells, yet when you leaned for the substance it turned to smoke. In her presence I was like a man who has been invited to look at jewels through a glass case; the dazzle is meant only to be seen, not to be touched. She stood at the center of a web of careless people, and I think of her with no malice but with a sorrow that tastes faintly of disapproval. It is incredible to say — and yet I will say it — that her voice could undo a man's life as easily as a seamstress unthreads a dress.
[HYPERBOLE 2 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: HER LAUGH COULD HAVE DROPPED THE EMPIRE OF A THOUSAND NATIONS HAD IT WANTED TO.
[TOM & JORDAN — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: TOM WAS AS COARSE-AS A STEAM WHISTLE; JORDAN AS DETACHED-AS A PLAYBILL LEFT IN A RAIN.
Tom moved as if the world were his because he had made it; he enforced his rights with a brute politeness. I have never forgiven him his air of proprietorship over another man's life. Jordan, on the other hand, was of a more modern stripe — cynical, half-amused, and ready to mislead when it suited her. My relationship with her is of a peculiar sympathy; I liked her because she was frank about her faults, and yet I could not marry my temperament to hers without losing something precious: the capacity for small, private reverence.
[SIMILE/METAPHOR 2 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: LIFE HERE IS LIKE A LONG DRESS, RUFFLED AND STAINED AT THE HEM.
I have exaggerated perhaps — all observers do, in the effort to make meaning — yet truth lies in the caricature sometimes. Thematic of all this is the carelessness of the rich: they move through life with the same imperiousness as a ship cutting its wake, leaving others to clear the wreckage. "They were careless people," I wrote once, and I find that sentence walking beside me still.
[EXPRESSION 1 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I AM ONE OF THE FEW HONEST PEOPLE I HAVE EVER KNOWN.
[EXPRESSION 2 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I WAS WITHIN AND WITHOUT, SIMULTANEOUSLY CURIOUS AND APPALLED.
[EXPRESSION 3 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: IT OCCURRED TO ME THAT I WAS NO BETTER THAN THE REST.
[EXPRESSION 4 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I WAS, IN A SENSE, A NONPARTISAN OBSERVER.
[SIMILE/METAPHOR 3 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: MY MEMORY OF THEM HANGS LIKE A PAINTING IN A ROOM TOO OFTEN DARKENED.
I leave tomorrow. Not from hatred, but from a settled distaste, as one withdraws from a party whose music has become a shriek. My purpose in writing this is to set a small record: that I bore witness, that I saw Gatsby's heart laid plain, and that I shall carry his light like a private relic. If the green light fades now, it will be because the world was never ready to love dreams made of paper and hope.
[THEME — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I SEE IN ALL THIS THE FALLEN IDEA THAT ILLUSION CAN BE ANYTHING BUT A SHORT-LIVED SHELTER—THE TRUTH IS THAT ILLUSION USUALLY BURNS DOWN THE HOUSE.
So I shall go. The Midwest will take me back into its honest routines; there, perhaps, I shall find that quiet integrity which I value so highly. Yet even as I turn my face homeward, the figure of Gatsby will remain — enormous in the little room of my memory, as if he were a beacon that refuses to be doused.
[PHYSICAL & MENTAL PLACE — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I SIT ON THE LONELY VERANDA OF THE SMALL HOUSE I RENTED IN WEST EGG, THE SEA LIKE A DRY, DISTANT RUMOUR BEHIND ME; MY MIND IS A TIGHT-CLASPED LETTER, SEALED AND YET WITHIN ME THE INK STILL WET.
It is something to be compelled to write when the nights are empty and the air smells of damp grass and spent cigars. I have come to this seat as one comes to a confessional bench, not because I expect absolution, but because the habit of observing will not sleep. I have always been, as I told myself once and perhaps more than once, inclined to reserve all judgments; yet now I find judgment roomy in my chest, like a house with many rooms, each a memory with its portrait hung askew.
[IDEAS IMPORTANT TO NICK — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I CHERISH HONESTY AND TRANQUILITY; THE SIMPLE COMFORT OF DECENCY IS FOR ME A LIGHTHOUSE IN A SHALLOW SEA.
It occurred to me—an idea that will not be shaken—that character, more than circumstances, governs the fate of men and women. I have seen the glitter and the smoke and learned that brightness often masks rot. I confess that I am both repelled and fascinated by the spectacle of their lives; I cannot entirely shake the habit of being within and without, watching the parade and yet keeping my shoes on the steps.
[SYMBOL — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: THE GREEN LIGHT STILL BURNS IN MY MEMORY, A DISTANT BEACON ON DAISY'S DOCK, LIKE A STAR DRIFTING JUST BEYOND ANY HAND.
Gatsby's light haunts me; it is less an object than a weather. It stood, as he stood, at the end of the dock — an emblem of yearning, a midnight lamp for impossible arrivals. I think of it now not as an emblem of vulgar aspiration but as of a human soul trying, with the poor tools it possessed, to stitch the past to the present.
[HYPERBOLE 1 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: HE HAD HOPES SO GREAT THEY MIGHT HAVE MOVED MOUNTAINS IF MOUNTAINS HAD BEEN MADE TO MOVE FOR MEN.
[GATSBY — EXTENDED REFERENCE — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I REMEMBER HIM AS I KNEW HIM — A MAN WHO MADE HIS OWN AUTUMN; HE HAD THE SORT OF FAITH THAT WOULD MAKE THE WEATHER CHANGE IF HE INSISTED.
He was not merely a romantic; he was an architect of illusion, and in that architecture he was magnificent. At the end, when the pool lay like a broken mirror and the lush gardens were mute, I thought of his admissions and of his small, naive insistence that the past could be recaptured as one might re-tie a ribbon. His devotion to Daisy was like a lantern swinging through fog — persistent, a little ridiculous, but honest. I feel, with that peculiar tenderness which is part witness and part complicity, that I have failed him in the only thing that might have been expected of me: to make people understand him.
[SIMILE/METAPHOR 1 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: HIS DREAM WAS A MOTH BEATING ITS WINGS AGAINST THE GLASS OF DAWN.
[DAISY — EXTENDED REFERENCE — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: AND DAISY—SHE WAS A VOICE, NOT A WOMAN; A VOICE THAT CARRIED THE WARMTH OF A MILLION SUMMERS AND THE FRAGILITY OF A CHINA CUP.
I remember her sitting in that chair in the little drawing-room, laughter like silver bells, yet when you leaned for the substance it turned to smoke. In her presence I was like a man who has been invited to look at jewels through a glass case; the dazzle is meant only to be seen, not to be touched. She stood at the center of a web of careless people, and I think of her with no malice but with a sorrow that tastes faintly of disapproval. It is incredible to say — and yet I will say it — that her voice could undo a man's life as easily as a seamstress unthreads a dress.
[HYPERBOLE 2 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: HER LAUGH COULD HAVE DROPPED THE EMPIRE OF A THOUSAND NATIONS HAD IT WANTED TO.
[TOM & JORDAN — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: TOM WAS AS COARSE-AS A STEAM WHISTLE; JORDAN AS DETACHED-AS A PLAYBILL LEFT IN A RAIN.
Tom moved as if the world were his because he had made it; he enforced his rights with a brute politeness. I have never forgiven him his air of proprietorship over another man's life. Jordan, on the other hand, was of a more modern stripe — cynical, half-amused, and ready to mislead when it suited her. My relationship with her is of a peculiar sympathy; I liked her because she was frank about her faults, and yet I could not marry my temperament to hers without losing something precious: the capacity for small, private reverence.
[SIMILE/METAPHOR 2 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: LIFE HERE IS LIKE A LONG DRESS, RUFFLED AND STAINED AT THE HEM.
I have exaggerated perhaps — all observers do, in the effort to make meaning — yet truth lies in the caricature sometimes. Thematic of all this is the carelessness of the rich: they move through life with the same imperiousness as a ship cutting its wake, leaving others to clear the wreckage. "They were careless people," I wrote once, and I find that sentence walking beside me still.
[EXPRESSION 1 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I AM ONE OF THE FEW HONEST PEOPLE I HAVE EVER KNOWN.
[EXPRESSION 2 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I WAS WITHIN AND WITHOUT, SIMULTANEOUSLY CURIOUS AND APPALLED.
[EXPRESSION 3 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: IT OCCURRED TO ME THAT I WAS NO BETTER THAN THE REST.
[EXPRESSION 4 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I WAS, IN A SENSE, A NONPARTISAN OBSERVER.
[SIMILE/METAPHOR 3 — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: MY MEMORY OF THEM HANGS LIKE A PAINTING IN A ROOM TOO OFTEN DARKENED.
I leave tomorrow. Not from hatred, but from a settled distaste, as one withdraws from a party whose music has become a shriek. My purpose in writing this is to set a small record: that I bore witness, that I saw Gatsby's heart laid plain, and that I shall carry his light like a private relic. If the green light fades now, it will be because the world was never ready to love dreams made of paper and hope.
[THEME — HIGHLIGHT] ABOVE: I SEE IN ALL THIS THE FALLEN IDEA THAT ILLUSION CAN BE ANYTHING BUT A SHORT-LIVED SHELTER—THE TRUTH IS THAT ILLUSION USUALLY BURNS DOWN THE HOUSE.
So I shall go. The Midwest will take me back into its honest routines; there, perhaps, I shall find that quiet integrity which I value so highly. Yet even as I turn my face homeward, the figure of Gatsby will remain — enormous in the little room of my memory, as if he were a beacon that refuses to be doused.
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