The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s exalted novel, is a very rich, moving story. From it’s interesting characters to its rather original plot, this book kept me hooked until the end. However, it is not a wholly unique or amazing novel. Rarely is there a book that I read that does not require a physical struggle for me to put down. And its plot is not completely without exception. Many books have quirky storylines with the death of a main character signifying the climax. Of Mice and Men, Romeo and Juliet, and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince to name a few. The characters are linear, never truly evolving from their experiences. At most, only hidden attributes were unveiled.
Yet, despite the criticism, I did enjoy the book. The scenes of Gatsby’s parties were amazing; they were ripe with imagery, analogy, and altogether amusing events. The characters, too, were humorous. In the scene where the narrator introduces Ms. Baker and Daisy and Tom Buchanan, at first I was perplexed; then I was intrigued; finally, I ended the issue by laughing over the outlandish posse. And yet, I must again point out a fault in the characters: the ease of which Tom and Ms. Baker discussed Tom’s affair. By nature, affairs are scandalous; the guilty parties try to avoid scrutiny and discovery. And yet, after not having seen the man for years, Tom takes Nick, our protagonist, to meet the mistress. Another impossibility: Tom and his lover have their own apartment. That they spend enough money and time for their own abode surely must be suspicious to their respective spouses.
But, alas, a final decision must come. And it is a positive one. While I could point out many elements that would enhance this book far beyond its current ken, I admit that I enjoyed it. It made me laugh; it made me sigh; it made me groan; and, most importantly it held me in suspense. Congratulations, Mr. Fitzgerald, for you have earned my approval.