Chapter 2

           AbouthalfwaybetweenWestEggandNewYorkthemotorroadhastilyjoinstherailroadandrunsbesideitforaquarterofamile,soastoshrinkawayfromacertaindesolateareaofland.Thisisavalleyofashes—afantasticfarmwhereashesgrowlikewheatintoridgesandhillsandgrotesquegardens;whereashestaketheformsofhousesandchimneysandrisingsmokeand,finally,withatranscendenteffort,ofmenwhomovedimlyandalreadycrumblingthroughthepowderyair.Occasionallyalineofgraycarscrawlsalonganinvisibletrack,givesoutaghastlycreak,andcomestorest,andimmediatelytheash-graymenswarmupwithleadenspadesandstirupanimpenetrablecloud,whichscreenstheirobscureoperationsfromyoursight.Butabovethegraylandandthespasmsofbleakdustwhichdriftendlesslyoverit,youperceive,afteramoment,theeyesofDoctorT.J.Eckleburg.TheeyesofDoctorT.J.Eckleburgareblueandgigantic—theiririsesareoneyardhigh.Theylookoutofnoface,but,instead,fromapairofenormousyellowspectacleswhichpassoveranonexistentnose.EvidentlysomewildwagofanoculistsetthemtheretofattenhispracticeintheboroughofQueens,andthensankdownhimselfintoeternalblindness,orforgotthemandmovedaway.Buthiseyes,dimmedalittlebymanypaintlessdays,undersunandrain,broodonoverthesolemndumpingground.

           Thevalleyofashesisboundedononesidebyasmallfoulriver,and,whenthedrawbridgeisuptoletbargesthrough,thepassengersonwaitingtrainscanstareatthedismalsceneforaslongashalfanhour.Thereisalwaysahaltthereofatleastaminute,anditwasbecauseofthisthatIfirstmetTomBuchanan’smistress.

           Thefactthathehadonewasinsisteduponwhereverhewasknown.Hisacquaintancesresentedthefactthatheturnedupinpopularrestaurantswithherand,leavingheratatable,saunteredabout,chattingwithwhomsoever