The Great Gatsby

The last time I had an obsession about a book, it was for Normal People. My current obsession is The Great Gatsby. A lot of people had it as required reading at some point in their schooling, but not me, and I thought I should read it. That's when I remembered it was set in the 1920s (I love 1920s fashion) that I dove in. Yesterday I spent something like five hours straight reading (which I don't often do) and shortly after I was listening to the movie (available on Netflix). The movie is good, but the book is a gem that is worth a lot of money.

Summary

We are in the 20's, in the middle of the roaring twenties and of the prohibition. Nick Carraway, a young man who doesn't know what to do with his life, moves to New York to work in finance. He rents a small house that happens to be next door to the gigantic Gatsby mansion. Every Friday, his neighbor throws huge, phenomenal parties where no one is invited but everyone shows up. And then, one day, Nick receives an invitation. He goes to the party and meets his host, a fabulous but also rather shady man. There are rumors about him in the crowd. Where does all this money come from? Why is he throwing these huge parties for all these people he doesn't know? Some even say he killed a man. But Nick, fascinated by Gatsby, gets closer to him, becomes his closest friend, and discovers his secrets.

Impressions

It took me about a page to understand why this book is a classic. The writing is so beautiful, I was almost transfixed. The narrator, with whom you sympathize a lot, describes what is happening around him in a way that is precise and evocative enough that you know what he thinks of the situation without him even having to say it explicitly. I felt like I was in the action with him, seeing the qualities and flaws of all the characters like him, perceiving everything that was grotesque and beautiful and admirable, without him even saying it. I called that mastery.

I'll give you an example: while Gatsby is telling Nick about all his larger-than-life exploits, and while Nick is hesitating whether to believe him or not, he says:

My incredulity was submerged in fascination now; it was like skimming hastily through a dozen magazines.

Or to describe the naturalness of two of his hosts:

They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.

That's what I prefered about the novel. But the story is very interesting too: Gatsby is mysterious and fascinating and you want to know his secrets, the luxury is stunning, no character leaves you indifferent, and there is not a dead moment in the book. I was just a little disappointed that (spoiler alert) Gatsby does all this for love. It suddenly made me feel like it was a bit cliché. But at the same time, it's not a love story: it's a story about a man who got burned trying to pursue a dream that wasn't worth it. It's not quaint at all. In any case, my admiration is boundless, and I'm very sad that 1920s dresses are no longer in style.