Nick Carraway decided to get into the bond business. He moves into a little house just outside of New York and reconnects with his cousin Daisy who lives nearby after getting married to Tom who comes from a whole lot of old money. Nick’s next door neighbor is a man called Gatsby, who is filthy rich as well, but from new money. Gatsby celebrates grand parties every weekend. When Nick is invited to one, he finds out that Gatsby and Daisy are somehow connected.
I pretty much loved Gatsby. It’s beautifully written and tells an interesting, many-layered story. And you can read it pretty quickly.
When I started reading the book, I was under the misapprehension that it was about nobody actually knowing whether Gatsby exists or not and that most of the book will be spent with people looking for him (much like Waiting for Godot, just with actual searching). [I don’t know where that came from, but teashoe thought the same thing. Deadra said that it might be due to the SNES game where it took forever to meet Gatsby.]
Anyway, that wasn’t the case. The plot was quite different. Not that I minded. I also didn’t have the problem with disliking the characters so much that many people seem to be having (apart from Tom. Dammit, I hated Tom). That’s not to say that they were the most likeable people but they felt very real and I did understand their decisions, even if I didn’t agree with most of them.
But the most outstanding thing to me was Fitzgerald’s language. It was close to poetry. Beautiful, delicious, amazing poetry. Anytime he described Daisy’s voice I just wanted to learn it by heart. But that’s not the only part that I loved. There were just lovely turns of phrases and descriptions throughout.
And of course you can interpret the hell out of this book, which is always fun.