Hailed as one of the greatest works of fiction - and F. Scott Fitgerald's - The Great Gatsby is a story of complete and utter absorption, from the main character, Nick's, preoccupation with the ostentation neighbor, to Gatsby's unhealthy infatuation with a woman he knew long ago, Daisy. The intense imagery and plethora of metaphors transport the reader back to a different era that keeps them plenty occupied while they wait for the actual story to begin.
Just shy of halfway through the short 180-pages, the story actually begins; a pretty messed up one at that. More of a short story, Fitzgerald's tale lack a lot of the drama, mystery, and mystique we've come to know and love with contemporary novels. Just as quick as the story begins, it's over and we're left wondering why we were participatory.
The span of several months, and even years, reads much like the length of only one day, and our knowledge of the main character - our accomplice, if you will - is startlingly limited. Even our knowledge of the would-be main character, Gatsby, is rather limited and sporadic and is seems like we're only left with the attributes of him that are grossly unflattering and downright sad. DiCaprio's Gatsby, however, will no doubt melt even the coldest hearts to pools of rich butter while his predecessor couldn't melt anyone's, even with a hearty helping of the finest champagne, the finest food money can buy, a mansion, and an air of mysterious, intriguing, possibly troubling past.
For most, this was required high school reading and in the beginning I could for the life of me fathom why; "spectroscopic gayety," really?! And, "...[she] began to cry stormily. 'They're sure beautiful shirts. It makes me sad because I've never seen such beautiful shirts before.'" Then, as the story gets moving, I realized walking through the world of The Great Gatsby (more specifically, his somewhat nosy neighbor) is an over-analytical individual's utopia. What better way to waste an hour than sit in a classroom and hypothesize why this book takes us through the various twists and turns, and analyze the supposed symbolism in the plenitude of metaphors? Perhaps, then, I might have liked and appreciated it more, and why my friends who did read it in high school think it's "AMAZING."
This might be the very first case where I enjoy the movie considerably more than the book. At least if the story is told equally as bad, I'll get to preoccupy myself with looking at all the pretty outfits.
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