the senses, inflamed

THE GREAT GATSBY.

what an iconic piece of writing.

i’m re-reading and enjoying the text for the ? time. what i’m noticing? attention to the senses.  here’s a selection:

We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end.  The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the green grass outside that seemed to grow a little into the house.  A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in one end and out the other  like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling–and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.

The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as through upon an anchored balloon.  They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house.  I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall.  Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.  (p. 12)

i don’t know about you but i can feel the wind.

yes, it’s iconic; yes, it’s dated.  but the magic is there and it occurs on the level of the sentence.

what are you re-reading?