This novel written by F. Scott Fitzgerald was published in 1925.
A narrator (Nick Carraway) tells the story of a man named Jay Gatsby.
Nick Carraway moves to West Egg. His new neighbor happens to be a mysterious man, Jay Gatsby. After attending several of his parties Gatsby asks for his help. Carraway’s cousin Daisy and her husband Tom Buchanan live just across the bay. It turns out Gatsby once was in love with Daisy and wishes to see her again. Nick arranges for them to meet and they begin an affair. The situation escalates when Tom forces Daisy, Gatsby, Nick and Jordan Baker, one of his wife’s girlfriends to go to New York. In a hotel suite he confronts them and the two men start arguing about Daisy’s love. Still in a state of rage, Tom sends Gatsby and Daisy home. When the rest of the group drives back the learn that a tragic accident has happened. A woman was hit by a car that hasn’t even stopped and she died. The woman was Myrtle Wilson whom Tom had an affair with. His gives her husband a tip that the driver who killed Myrtle was Jay Gatsby. The next day Wilson shoots Gatsby and himself, not knowing that it was actually Daisy who drove the car.
Nick arranges his funeral. although always being surrounded by heaps of people, Gatsby was a lonely man. His funeral is only attended by his father, Nick and a strange man Nick once met at a party of Gatsby’s.
I know this book is a classic and considered as one of the best books ever. Therefore I was excited to finally get to read it and ended up disappointed. They characters all were unlikable, they remained shallow. You could hardly relate with them as you never really got to know them. The story didn’t suck you in or capture you. There were no real surprises or a storyline that makes it impossible to put the book down. What kept me reading was the mere fact that the book is considered to be so great. I was hoping that maybe it gets better but suddenly I reached the last page and was more than disappointed. To me it’s a mystery why this book is a classic. I wouldn’t bother to read it again. One time was more than enough. “The Great Gatsby” is one of the few books I’d never recommend to anyone.