The Great Gatsby

Once a year, our book group reads a classic novel.  We’ve read books like “To Kill a Mockingbird”, “Little Women” and “My Antonia” among others.  I always sort of grit my teeth when its time for a classic.  I read many of them in high school or college and always remember why I didn’t like them the first time.  Often the language was too dense, or the Victorian obsession with class and manners bored me to death.  Sometimes the teacher was not able to make the book come alive for me.  The end result has always been a private cringe the moment someone says, “Let’s read a classic!” 

Many of the members of my book group are retired teachers or librarians, so they laugh at my reaction and try to find classics that are readable so I don’t revolt.  I mean, who can find fault with “To Kill a Mockingbird”?  Personally, I count that book as one of my Top 5 all time favorites. 

When one of our members said “Ooh, how about the Great Gatsby!” I felt my face form into the scrunched up expression of a teenager who has been asked to make their bed.  I approached the book as one would when asked to take yucky medicine – I held my nose and swallowed. 

Surprisingly, the medicine was really quite good.  Gatsby is such a small book (only 189 pages) but is filled with beautiful writing and a whole lot of action.  There is much more to it than I remembered.  The fact that all I really remembered about the book was a night time party scene at a big house is telling.  The book is really more about so much more.  I had no recollection of the fatal car accident and final murder, no recollection of the shady characters from the Jewish mob that are lurking in the background and no recollection of the bigoted Tom Buchanan that beats his wife.  I had no understanding of how well Fitzgerald wrote and how sparingly he was able to tell so much story. 

Our book group leader for the month did a wonderful job of providing insight into Fitzgerald’s life and his writing process.  She made connections between Gatsby’s world and that of Sean P. Diddy Comb’s parties that take place on The Hamptons today.  We discussed how Fitzgerald provided the picture we associate with The Jazz Age and how he actually coined the phrase.  Really interesting stuff.  I wonder if high school kids who are asked to read “The Great Gatsby” are able to understand all the subtleties of the book at their tender age.  I wonder if college kids have the world view and life experience to get the irony of Fitzgerald’s words. 

This happens sometimes with book group.  I am exposed to a book that I never would have read and learn how much I was missing.  Yucky medicine becomes a lovely dessert with raspberries and chocolate.  I love Book Group.