Review The Great Gatsby Book Novels & Stories

When they said it was themed I didn't think it would look this great. The Jazz music player my softly in the background, beautiful people in beautiful clothes, the decoration in its own was just out of this world. I have read The Great Gatsby and tonight I felt like Daisy Buchanan. "This place looks amazing, must have cost a fortune to put together." I said. "Well it didn't even put a dent in their bank account, they throw parties like annually." Nick said and took two glasses of champagne from one of the waiters that was passing. "Here you go beautiful lady..." He said and gave me a glass of champagne.

"Sure, thanks." Gabby's face suddenly turned grim. She reached over the counter, subtly pulled Eleanor closer and whispered to her, saying "Dear, return this book to me. Only me and no one else. Hold unto it till you see me. If not, don't let anyone else have it." Eleanor listened intently and nodded. Something very important was embedded in the book. Something crucial enough to scare Gabby. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Gabby." "Leave now."

"Shakespeare happens to be one of my favorite novelists." Eniola laughed in disbelief. "Like you actually read Shakespeare? Most guys don't give a shit about his works." "I'm not most guys," he pointed out. "How many times have you read this?" she asked, holding a worn copy of F. Fitzgerald's 'The Great Gatsby'. "I don't know," Dayo shrugged. "Several times, I guess. I just love the mystery that surrounds the main character. No one really knows much about him." Eniola grinned. "Gatsby's obsession with Daisy has me torn between deciding if he was simply naïve or just so blinded by his desires." she voiced out.

I have a class to attend, he is in detention, his punishment can’t get any worse than that but mine can. Hurrying to the literature section, I pick out the first copy of The Great Gatsby I find on the rows of shelves with first edition novels. A crumpled note falls out as I am about to tuck it into my bag, I look around to see if anyone is here but there’s no one within walking distance. I open the note and frown. It is a letter. A handwritten letter.

CHAPTER 1 — THE LATE RETURN I really shouldn’t have been there after closing time. The sign on the door already read “Closed” in elegant gold letters, and the lights inside Marcus Vale’s bookstore were dimmed to that soft amber glow he always left on for the night. I stood outside for a full minute, debating whether to just slip the book through the mail slot and run. But the book was rare — a 1923 first edition of The Great Gatsby with handwritten notes in the margins, and I couldn’t risk damaging it.

***ESTHER*** I sit in the chair in the garden in front of the university. Honestly, I don’t know what do I want from Caden. I hate him coming nearer to me. It makes me feel like he is going to read everything that I have been hiding from everyone but the uninteresting fact is that I hate him when I told him to stay completely away from me. What does my heart want actually? I unpack my bag and take out a book from my bag. It’s THE GREAT GATSBY. I have read this book several times and every time, I read this book, my heart cries for Jay Gatsby. But I don’t think I can do that anymore.

with African literature " Come one babe , I trust you , you are going to smash it really hard so don't fret, you are going to nail it " he reassured her " Well Mirabel and I chose to review Open City by Teju Cole and The great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald, these books are marvelous I had mad fun while reading them because Mirabel kept making fun of the characters, I also enjoyed how she imitated most of them' she explained in an excited tone. "Wait, why are you so happy?" he asked. " I have a literature review class tomorrow , is that not enough reason to be happy?" she said. "I love the books you chose by the way, they are good reads" he said. "Thank youuuuu," she said. "Baby girl, in as m

But still, the effect it had on me was unexpected. He was now carefully inspecting my books on the shelf Hayden and Drew had built for me. I couldn’t help but watch him as his fingers brushed over each spine. “Why were you at my school earlier?” The words rushed out before I could stop them, curiosity winning out caution. He pulled out a copy of the Great Gatsby and started flipping through. “Why are you hanging out with a doucebag who clearly only wants to get into your pants?” His counter remark was so casual I almost didn’t believe he had just said that.

The sixth form college had its last week before Christmas break. Theo argued about the ending of The Great Gatsby on the penultimate day with the specific furious investment of someone who had decided the question mattered and wasn’t going to let it go until it was resolved. I let him argue for twenty minutes before I said, “Fitzgerald didn’t give you resolution because resolution would have been a lie, the green light stays green because some things are supposed to stay out of reach.” Theo looked at me. “That’s depressing,” he said. “It’s honest,”

Far enough to give her the space her body was still asking for. Should say something. Something helpful. Something that proved I wasn't just muscle and anger and a stick on ice. Something wise. Had nothing wise. The book was on the counter. Gatsby. The only book I owned – the one she'd made me read, the one I'd gotten a B+ on, the one that had rearranged something in my head I didn't know could move. Dog-eared. Coffee-stained. Spine cracked at the part we'd argued about during our first tutoring session.