Comparing The Great Gatsby And Nella Larsen's Passing

Idealism, or Seeing Life Through Rose Coloured Blinders

Viewing the world through rose coloured glasses will undeniably allow one to believe that they can never fail, and that all the universe exists solely to actualize their hopes and dreams -- but at what price? While idealism is among the most powerful of driving forces towards progress and innovation on earth, it can often lead one to forget to assess whether or not their dreams are safe, or even practical. Nella Larsen and F. Scott Fitzgerald in their novels “Passing” and “The Great Gatsby”, both explore great tragedies caused by main characters having their heads too far into a dream to understand that their lifestyles are neither realistic nor safe. Characters in both novels are living

life as idealists remaining oblivious to the fact that their lifestyles could be detrimental to themselves and all involved and ultimately suffer great tragedy as a result of refusing to see past their rose coloured glasses.
In the 1920’s, as racism and classism were rampant in the United States, many people of ethnic descent made the decision to pass as white in society.

Hence is the subject matter of Nella Larsen’s “Passing”. In the short yet entirely poignant novel, protagonist Irene Redfield finds herself encircled in the ring of deceit and idealistic views belonging to Clare Kendry. Clare is a woman who has decided to “pass” as a means of achieving a life more luxurious than that of a black woman in her society. This choice is risky alone, paired with superficial reasoning, makes for a potentially volatile situation if not handled with delicate precaution and constant awareness. Clare is, however, a frivolous and self destructive character who we see throughout the novel as being someone who does not give a second thought towards the trace she leaves on the world so much as she gets what she wants. In a conversation about having children, Clare speaks about how she “nearly died of terror the whole nine months before [her daughter,] Margery was born for fear that she might be dark. Thank goodness, she turned out alright” (Larsen 27). In this scene, Irene, Clare and Gertrude, a childhood friend of theirs, are talking about the fact that there is no predicting how dark or light a black child’s skin may be upon birth; meaning that the risk of her secret being revealed was made dangerously precarious as a result of her recklessness. The danger she has put herself in but has willingly chosen to

ignore is further contextualized upon the introduction of Clare Kendry’s husband, John Bellew, who, both the reader and Irene soon learn, is incredibly racist. “No niggers in my family”, Bellew says to Clare when she asks what if she were black, “never have been, and never will be”(Larsen 29). He says this in front of guests at their first meeting, so presumably Clare must have always known that John is a racist man and not only risks betrothment to him, but has a child who, as previously mentioned by Clare Kendry, could have turned out dark and completely outed her.
Jay Gatsby, the titular character of “The Great Gatsby”, is no more different. Gatsby lives with the dream of reinstating a past he once shared with the love of his life, Daisy Buchanan. His efforts to re-woo her extend those of a normal person; he forges a livelihood as a bootlegger during the prohibition, buys a gaudy house in New York’s West Egg (directly across the bay from Daisy’s in East Egg), and even attempts to pursue an affair with Daisy, who is married to the brutish and presumably abusive Tom Buchanan. In all of these acts to attempt to live a life that he was clearly not cut out for, Gatsby remains wholly oblivious to the details that sell out the fact that he is an outsider within this life he’s made for himself solely to gain the attention of Daisy. The character, so-called “Owl Eyes”, who is seen as a large figure of wisdom in the novel remarks on Gatsby’s impressive collection of books; “‘See!’ he cried triumphantly. ‘It's a bona-fide piece of printed matter. It fooled me. This fella's a regular Belasco. It's a triumph. What thoroughness! What realism!’” (Fitzgerald 46), after he had given the library a closer inspection upon initially believing the books to be merely empty cardboard boxes. It is a decadent display of Gatsby’s wealth of course, but, Owl Eyes finds, “‘[he] didn’t cut the pages’” (Fitzgerald 46), meaning he never read the books. Gatsby has the problem of viewing life on a purely surface level dimension. This will go on to cause him greater problems later on in the novel, when he believes that having an affair with Daisy is as simple as him having the desire for it to happen. What’s standing in his way is of course that Daisy is already married, and more than comfortable with Tom and also that Tom has established himself to be a largely unpredictable and hot tempered character within the novel, and eventually, Gatsby’s motives are seen clearly as crystal by Tom who is of course, not pleased.
It is one thing to merely engage in risky behavior out of blind idealism, but another entirely to have one’s life put in grave danger as a result. This is precisely what the reader observes of Clare Kendry and Jay Gatsby. Clare’s secret was a highly hazardous one to keep from the start, but the final straw comes when John Bellew comes across Irene, who has previously been described as able to pass for white, while shopping with her friend Frelise. “[John] had, Irene knew, become conscious of Frelise, golden, with curly black Negro hair, whose arm was still linked in hers” (Larsen 79), and the interaction strangely fizzles out with Irene grabbing Frelise’s arm and walking away briskly. But the damage is done-- Clare’s secret is no longer intact. Days later, Clare Kendry attends a party at the apartment of Frelise and her husband. It is here that John busts in, wild with rage and claiming to have been following his wife all day. In a whirlwind of excitement, rage and deceit (during which, Irene swears she could see a “hint of a smile” (Larsen 91) on Clare’s lips), Clare ends up several stories down in the cold after either falling, jumping, or being pushed out of the window. The partygoers and reader alike are left to decide what the true cause of Kendry’s death was, but one thing can be concluded: the sacrifice Clare paid was “death by misadventure” (Larsen 94). By choosing to willingly participate in a life and world she had no place in, decieve everyone she came across and then attempt to cross over her two lives, all the while never paying even the slightest bit of mind to what could happen if everything is not pulled off flawlessly, Clare opened herself up to many huge hazards that all crashed together at once and indeed caused death by misadventure.
Gatsby’s sense of realism evaded him until he met his bitter end.

Following a particularly emotionally strenuous encounter between he and Gatsby, Tom recommends that the whole group (Gatsby, himself, Nick Carraway, Daisy and Jordan Baker), head downtown, but insists that the two men swap cars. Daisy and Gatsby, who have unknowingly been suspected of their affair by Tom take off and, drunkenly, run over a woman who has run out into the street. Daisy’s hands were on the wheel. When the husband of the deceased woman inquires what really happened to Tom, as she was killed with his car. Tom blames Gatsby, and why should he not? As far as Tom knew, Gatsby was a frivolous, careless and untrustworthy man-- and all of this as a result of Gatsby’s own actions. Gatsby lives a gaudy and attention-seeking life solely for the recognition of one woman, he blatantly lies about his past and does not believe that he will be caught, and made passes at Tom’s wife right in front of him. A mix of retribution and mistaken identity take George Wilson, the woman’s wife, to Gatsby’s home, where he patiently awaits a phone call from Daisy-- presumably professing her love for him or something of the like-- that will never come. Gatsby is shot by Wilson, believing until the very end that his forbidden fruit was not lethal, and that he possessed the innate right to all of his greatest desires. It is remarked by Nick that Gatsby “paid a high price for living too long with a single dream” (Fitzgerald 163);

however additionally, the price was set on his belief that this dream was only inches within his reach, not miles away as it truly was. Above all, Gatsby paid for his refusal to see the unpleasant yet safe actuality of his situation.
Undeniably, idealists have furthered innovation in ways that the common realist may have quite literally never thought possible, but the danger appears when the idealist refuses to see themselves as such and, in turn, believe that their grand ideals are practical. This is precisely what readers have found to be within F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” and Nella Larsen’s “Passing”. The main characters of either novel are inarguably idealists, and consequently find themselves living lives that are neither realistic, nor appropriate for them and subsequently paying the highest price for their inability to think or see in realistic terms. H.L. Mencken once described the idealist as “one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup”, perfectly depicting the jeopardy that arises as a result of their unawareness. The question will ever remain; is it better to have seen the beast that is reality for all of it’s ugly truth, or to protect one’s peace of mind behind a pair of rose coloured glasses? Either will bring forth peril, but which choice holds the heavier burden?