Chapter 3: The Deconstruction of Amory Blaine

JARED: So. That was bizarre. I'm largely writing this now so I can see what you thought about Chapter 3. Or, put another way: So I can see if you understood what just happened better than I did.

The end of the last chapter clearly suggested that things were going to take a turn, but it seems Amory's fortunes have turned in at least four different ways: His relationship with Isabelle has seemingly soured (at least for now); he's no longer quite so rich; his status at Princeton is plummeting, and lastly... um... he's losing his mind?

I'm really not sure what to think about the last several pages of the novel. I was reading it rather quickly, eager to get to the point where it all makes sense, but I don't think I ever found it.

Aside from all that, it seems like a bit of a roller-coaster for Amory's character. The opening bit with Isabelle made him perhaps harder to like than ever. For instance, like the part about how he wanted to kiss her, but only because then he could leave her the next morning and feel good about himself.

"On the contrary, if he didn't kiss her, it would worry him... It would interfere vaguely with his idea of himself as a conqueror. It wasn't dignified to come off second best, pleading, with a doughty warrior like Isabelle."

Then we get to his failure at his test at Princeton. By the way, I loved the line about him yawning, "scribbling the honor pledge on the cover"of his test, and leaving. Not that I'm against writing an honor pledge on every test. Just that it's so Princeton.

Anyway, the whole part with Monsignor Darcy gave me some home that a more contemplative Amory would emerge, one with better priorities and a better sense of how he ought to make a life for himself. And perhaps that will re-emerge later in the book. But for now, what to make of the strange man (apparition?)

Maybe I missed something important, but it seems our friend Amory was having himself a bit of a psychotic break. A symbolic break, but also a real one, right?

It's really interesting, though, that Fitzgerald introduces the episode thusly:

"Amory's envy and admiration of this step (Holiday's departure for the Lafayette Esquadrille) was drowned in an experience of his own to which he never succeeded in giving an appropriate value, but which, nevertheless, haunted him for three years afterward."

Which prompts two questions in my mind. First, what does it mean that Amory "never succeeded in giving (the experience) an appropriate value?" Does that mean he never fully understands it? Does that mean it never recurs?

And what does it mean that it haunts him for three years afterward? What happens in that three years?

Alright. I'm curious to hear your brilliant take on all this. Hit me.