The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 


The Great Gatsby
by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Pages: 180
My rating: B-
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.
Can you guys believe that I’d never read this until now? I know it’s a staple in most high school and college literature classes (both of which, I took), but somehow I managed to never read it. One of my goals for this summer is to read a few of the classic American novels that I’ve somehow missed. So, this time at the library, I picked up Gatsby along with The House of Seven Gables (which I haven’t yet read).
The Great Gatsby is set during the post-war 1920s golden age. It examines the lives of the upper class, specifically those on Long Island. Narrator Nick Carraway is a 29-year-old bond salesman who recently moved to Long Island from the midwest. He moves into a modest house next to the Gatsby estate, where parties are often raging until the wee hours of the morning. Gatsby uses his relationship with Nick to rekindle his old romance with Nick’s cousin, Daisy.
This is one of those books that makes me feel like a literary failure. I know that there are absolutely a million people that love this novel and could talk about it for hours. I didn’t love it. Honestly, I didn’t hate it, but I really couldn’t immerse myself in it. I appreciate what Fitzgerald did, as far as reporting on the social aspect of that era and making commentary on wealth, but I just didn’t give a damn.