
I gave a lecture a few months ago that brought together some
elements of literature and art in the development of the environmental
movement.
I am always drawn to
bring out
The Great Gatsby when I speak of the history of the environmental movement in the
United States.
In many ways,
The
Great Gatsby did to romanticism in American literature what Daisy Buchanan did
to Myrtle Wilson in the book.
Thus,
Gatsby, to me, serves as a distinct cultural line between Muir and
Leopold.
But Gatsby delivers some interesting environmental
images that are key to my viewpoint. There are two symbolic
environmental images.
One of course is the ash heap between Long Island and New York City. This area was portrayed
quite nicely in Baz Luhrmann’s new film adaptation of the classic American
book.
The ash heap was a real place, now Citi Field where the
Mets play in Queens. It was a
dumping ground for the coal ash and other waste from New York City. Any of us who drive from Long Island
into New York have driven by the area, just as Gatsby would have back in the
1920’s. Now, of course, we take
the expressway instead of the roadway.
Robert Moses removed the landfill to create space for the 1964 World’s
Fair and the ash heaps are no more.
But the presence of the ash heap in the 1920’s book
symbolizes the cost of excesses of the times. The fact that that Tom Buchanan, representing the old moneyed
elite, finds disposable love with a decadent earthy woman within the shadows of
the heap foreshadows the loss of beauty within our own natural world as a
result of overdevelopment. The
death of Myrtle is the death of nature.
But thankfully, we have resurrected the smoking ash heaps of
the past through the reconstruction of wetlands and construction of parks. We have reshaped nature so that it is a
genderless construction of modernity that would be lost to past symbolic
realism.
The other important natural image of the book is the blinking
green light on Daisy’s dock across from Gatsby’s mansion. To some, the green light represents
Gatsby’s dream of the past with Daisy.
But to me, it has always meant Gatsby’s dream of a simpler world—a world
without the burden of excess, a world without decadence, a world of truth that
he could share with Daisy.
While he wants Daisy in that world, it is quite evident by the end of
the book that while he has hope of the future, Daisy is unworthy of his dream.

Thus the green light represents the hope that all of us have
in the value of others and our dreams for the future. The green light is elusive—seen, but not held. Visible, but not understood. Thus the green light takes the place of
nature in providing a sense of the unknown—it is technological nature
romanticism. Instead of being
inspired by nature to gain the romantic, Gatsby is inspired by
electricity. For the first time in
American literature, a romantic symbol, one typically found in nature, becomes
technologic—a blinking electric light. Nature is not needed to elevate the soul.
I live in the land of Gatsby. After work, when I go out for a run from my modest
neighborhood adjacent to one that is not, I find myself pulled to the
moonshadows of Gatsby’s mansions because of the broad running space and lack of
traffic. I suppose I race against
time among the ghosts with my little LED headlamp. When I get
home, tired but fulfilled, I try to find the green light across Manhasset
Bay. Some evenings it is
there. Some evenings it is not.