Archive for July, 2007

thin red light

Wednesday, July 4th, 2007

a micLast month for various reasons (mostly as I am somewhat of a curiosity coming from the UK to Poland, when most people travel in the opposite direction) I had few opportunities to be speaking on local radio shows. One was live, others pre-recorded. Before you accuse me of become ever-so-concerned with popularity let me explain that my main motivation was to gain some publicity for the school I am working for.

I have noticed a strange dose of bravery when speaking to a microphone. You see, you don’t see the crowds (well, OK all three people) you are addressing. All you see and hear is a friendly journalist who is asking you questions. It is very easy to forget that you are heard by anonymous (that is until they quote your words back to you on the street or at a party) multitudes. And while it is fine to express not fully precise opinions in a private conversation, it is a dangerous to do so on air. And apart from a small red light in the studio not much reminds you of it.

a fraud

Wednesday, July 4th, 2007

The Great GatsbyThis was a quick read. Starting sometime on an easy-going Saturday and finishing during a lazy Sunday morning. The language is as captivating for me as that of Waugh (and his prose is a pure delight for me to read!). And even though I find the very English Brideshead more captivating and closer to my own skin I think I saw for the first time the charm of the very American Long Island in Fitzgerald’s story.

I knew that with shutting of the covers, after finishing the last page I will not loose the feeling of sadness. Here is a story of a fraud. The great life-excuse: love, is not sufficient and the story does not end happily ever after. Here is a story of a solitary pursuit of a dream which vanishes upon closer inspection. The dream is too much of an illusion to survive the reality check. And the Great Gatsby sells his identity to become, or rather to pretend he is, someone who will win the prize. And hence the impossible choice: either he is not himself, he acts, and then cannot get close enough, real enough, to win and enjoy the prize. Or he stretches out his hand for the prize, but then he cannot keep his mask on and is disqualified. An impossible choice. A loose-loose situation.

What a privilege it is to be true to oneself.

F Scott Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby