Nick dating jordan
Yet here is how Nick, a distant enough cousin to lust for her with impunity if he had such impulses, describes her: I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice.It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you might come across four or five times in your life.It faced — or seemed to face — the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on with an irresistible prejudice in your favor.I’m reading like a writer, in Francine Prose’s phrase.As an adjunct professor, I always include the novel on my syllabus.We can easily imagine Jordan, a prototype of the modern-day female athlete: sporty, fit, trim, and a bit flirty.Even reading this in high school I came away thinking that she was hot.
After I moved to New York, I read the book again and finally understood its geography.
Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward.
Not even the effeminate swank of his riding boots could hide the enormous power of that body — he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat.
She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can.
Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crêpe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty, but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.
To Tom, Myrtle is the smouldering portrait of voluptuousness, but Nick is not taken with her at all.