The Great Gatsby by F Scott FitzGerald

Believe it or not, the book came first, not the film ! I read The Great Gatsby a long, long time ago and loved it. Prompted by going to see the glorious Luhrmann version that’s showing everywhere, I’ve just re- read it. 

As so often is the case, the film doesn’t hold a candle to the book. It could never capture its breathtaking, almost poetic language. I had to keep stopping along the way to admire sentences ! 

Fitzgerald manages to weave a brilliant story around the shadowy Jay Gatsby. who says little of interest in the whole novel, but holds the best of parties. There’s something exotic and enigmatic about him. Why is he such a liar ? Where did he make his money ? Why, when he was complicit in such a terrible crime, do we forgive him ? 

Gatsby’s living a dream that all comes tumbling down and barely anyone attends his funeral. The fragility of it all is captured beautifully and economically. Second time round, I’ve appreciated the book even more.