The Great Gatsby Graphic Novels & Stories

I didn’t laugh at it, I was no master locksmith, but even so I was inside the house in less than thirty seconds. I had climbed in through the window into what could only be described as the study and moved across to a desk. Initially, I found myself tiptoeing. Ridiculous. I half laughed at myself and put my feet down flat on the soundless carpet. There was nothing on the desk top except a blotter without blots, a tray of pens and pencils, a green telephone, a photograph of a young woman in a silver frame, a desk diary closed and a leather bound copy of The Great Gatsby.

I replied. Carl grinned. “And I'm Carl” We all shifted into a small circle by turning the chairs to form a loose square around my desk. “Alright,” Carl started, tapping his pen on the table. “Let’s go with something easy. I don’t want us dying overnight over this thing.” Amber leaned in with a flick of her hair. “We could do The Great Gatsby. I already know half of it,” she said, smiling at Carl so brightly. I looked between them. The Great Gatsby, that was a good one. It was famous, interesting, and deep enough to analyze. “That could work,” I said. “We can focus on Gatsby himself and his illusion of love.”