i willwhen I read it again the great gatsby, I’m glad to see that it lives up to the hype of the memory, which is perfect for a story about how the past can’t live up to its reputation.
Credit for re-reading the book does not go to any of the characters. Gatsby is not good. But its author.
F. Scott Fitzgerald knew he had done something valuable and wanted the public to appreciate it. So he allowed his wife Zelda to veto the original title even though it was the title of the book and the lens through which he saw the entire story. “Trimalchio,” he would be called after a freed slave from the work of Petronius in the first century. Satyricon which became the first example of the laziness of modern money in history. However, “All my serious genius is preserved,” Fitzgerald wrote in a letter after the script was finished.
The result is an animated masterpiece that does not fly, as if it were to be read on a scroll, opening an endless page, saving the reader from turning a page.
Marriage proposal Jay Gatsby’s quest to regain Daisy’s love five years after their separation. It’s a novel as old as time, but the original story is contained in Fitzgerald’s intimate prose. Every word is right where it needs to be, and unlike Jay Gatsby’s comedy parties, none of Fitzgerald’s writings are glamorous or glamorous or inspiring.
“The lights will be brighter as the world flies away from the sun,” says Fitzgerald’s author, Nick Carraway, evoking the idea that the god of real estate himself inspired it. to those groups in the Roaring Twenties. He captures the indifference of the wealthy to search for something that can excite or frighten them, as they talk about Gatsby’s past: “It’s an expression of emotion. so intimate that he fostered whispers about him from those who knew little. must be whispered in this world.”
A woman who is angry with her husband “suddenly appears on her side like an angry diamond.” A reminder that a mask creates, not just hides, what is behind it: “Most things hide something behind, even if they don’t in the beginning.”
A warning not to walk the line between promoting one’s wealth and imposing it on others: “America, while willing and eager to be a people slaves, they were always hard about the peasants.”
And horror – the book is full of horror. Like when Carraway sees a ferry on the Long Island Sound and for a moment he can imagine what he sees: “His lost trees, the trees he went to Gatsby’s house, whispers the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a long time a man has not held his breath before this land, forced into a beautiful fantasy that he that he didn’t understand and didn’t want, face to face for the last time in history with something worthy of his ability to wonder.
Carraway’s novel can also make or break a reader’s love for the mysterious Gatsby on a dime. Listening to Gatsby grumble about his supposed actions “is like flipping through a dozen magazines.” Then again there is Gatsby’s unrelenting loneliness at the end of each night: “A sudden stream was seen from the windows and the great doors, completely separating the form of the host. , standing on the porch, with his hand up. in a token of love.”
At one point, Carraway turns the reader’s attention into the same realization: “He smiled with understanding—more than understanding. It’s one of those rare smiles with a kind of eternal certainty in it that you only get to see four or five times in a lifetime. It faced – or seemed to be – the eternal world for a short time and bound you with a feeling of disdain against your will. He understands you as you want to be understood, believes in you as you want to believe in yourself, and assures you that you’ve got exactly what you, at your best, feel like. tell. At that time it was lost – and I was looking at a beautiful young man, a year or two over thirty, but the expression was not absurd. A few moments before he introduced himself, I had a strong feeling that he was choosing his words carefully.
Finally, Fitzgerald gives us the visual narrative we need to allow us to join the audience: “Tears flowed down his cheeks – but not freely, for what, when they met his eyes, they thought they were ink-colored. and followed the rest of their way through the quiet black streams. The joke was that he would sing the notes in his eyes, then he threw his hands up, fell on a chair, and went into a deep sleep.
The great gatsby It’s been almost a hundred years, and I’ve never read anything like it. Maybe that’s why I read again, “borne back ceaselessly into the past.”