So, i admit it. It was as if the spirit if F. Scott Fitzgerald picked up a copy of his beloved masterpiece and chucked it at my face. As I sat staring at "The Great Gatsby," the many possible outcomes that undoubtedly would occur from rereading one of my favorite novels passed through my mind. Would my 21-years-young self hate what my 16-years-old self loved? I determined that the risk was too great and, instead, resigned to crack open the cover of Fitzgerald's short story "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." After a solid 42 minutes of reading, I found myself in a state of wanting as if Fitzgerald's words were made of some illicit drug that I desperately needed...heroine, perhaps? (Disclaimer: no offense intended with the drug reference.) Whatever the case, I surrendered myself to my curiosities and began to cruise through the familiar pages of "Gatsby."
I did not intend for it to happen, but it did. As i continued reading over the next (not so subtle) 4 and a half hours, I could not help but draw parallels between Gatsby's world and my own. After five years, Daisy no longer possessed nor deserved any part of Gatsby's idealized dream of her. Captivated by the grandeur of Gatsby's world, the bustle and fervor of New York, I thought about all that had happened to me in the last five years since I last visited with Nick, Gatsby and Daisy. I, myself, had travelled the world and embarked on my own new adventures. Five years had changed who I was. Five years had also passed since Gatsby left Daisy to fight in the Great War. Suddenly, what puzzled Gatsby about Daisy ceased to confuse me as it did when I was 16. Time and experience bred understanding as the story took on a whole new meaning, impacting me in a way that it never had before.
Typical of many of the Modernist works, "The Great Gatsby" sings the sad song of the Lost Generation and their need for acceptance, a hope for belonging and their disillusion with any explanation of the terrible. Today, the story still rings true in the hearts of many and shines out against the dark cloaking of superficiality as all of us reach out for our own green lights at the end of the dock.
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
I loved your description. This novel rings true for me as well and makes me realize how much time I spend wanting things of my past. Fitzgerald captures the emotion of nostalgia perfectly.
ReplyDeleteTime and experience bred understanding as the story took on a whole new meaning, impacting me in a way that it never had before.
ReplyDeleteExactly. I, too, was 16 when I first read Gatsby. Revisiting it the month I turned 24 is one of the most visceral (dare I say spiritual?) experiences I had that year.