by F. Scott Fitzgerald
THE GREAT GATSBY, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s third book, stands as the supreme achievement of his career. This exemplary novel of the Jazz Age has been acclaimed by generations of readers. The story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan, of lavish parties on Long Island at a time when The New York Times noted “gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,” it is an exquisitely crafted tale of America in the 1920s.
The Great Gatsby is one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.
January 2014, I had the notion to read The Great Gatsby for no reason other than I wanted to. I rated it four-stars you can read the "review" I posted to Goodreads here. It's imperative that you go and read that review because of how very stupid it was. I can fully admit that I was an idiot when I read it the first time around. I did not understand the romantic language, and relied on scenes from the movie to guide me through the happenings of the book. I missed so very much from reading it without a prior knowledge of the language of the period.
Now, onto my actual thoughts on the novel. I really loved it, and by that I mean fuck this book. It was so fucking good, and Gatsby did not deserve what happened to him. It was so beautifully written, it was a shame that I spent my first go with this book on a time where I did not know what it was saying.
It really is exquisite, and so fucking complex. The "valley of ashes" was described as a "fantastic farm," at the start of the novel, and the "ashen" man who killed Gatsby at the end was depicted as a "fantastic figure." I can sure as hell tell you that I did not notice that the first time. To be fair, I would not have in general except for the fact that I read this book in one sitting from 8pm until 3am.
Oh man. The development of this book was divine. It flowed so perfectly, and even when Nick skipped a few weeks or hours or months between events, it did not seem forced at all. IT was so very natural and fluid. My inner-English-major was drinking this book up.