The Great Gatsby Novel Review Novels & Stories

My mother passed it on to me once realized that I love reading. To be fair I did watch the movie once I was a bit older. They included most of the famous line from the book, but there were a few things that I didn't like about the movie. I mean The great gatsby was written in a different time. but they included modern music in the movie. I wished that they would have used music from the time the book was written in. Everything else in the movie was just over the top for me.

"Alright. If you're serious, we're diving straight into the heavy material. We are covering the themes of illusion versus reality in The Great Gatsby. Specifically, Chapter Six." "Ah, yes. Gatsby," Evans sighed dramatically, rubbing his jaw. "A guy who throws massive, ridiculously expensive parties, fills his house with strangers, and risks everything he has built just to get the attention of one specific girl. A completely unrelatable concept. I have no idea how to connect with this character." I felt a hot flush creep up my neck, betraying my calm facade. He was doing exactly what he promised not to do blurring the lines. I pointed the tip of my pen directly at his chest.

I sat myself down on the thin bed she had on the floor, seeing an alarm clock that had a setting of 3:30 am while she had a few books scattered throughout the area. 'The Great Gatsby' 'Nicholas Nickelby' 'Catcher in the Rye' along with a few I didn't recognize, yey they were all classics. All things that just showed how truly remarkable she was. Thumbing through the novels I was taken aback by the amount of notes she had within the margins, she was truly a remarkable person, brilliant at that. Her compassion through her hardships, her sheer unwavering love or want to be kind to others even when shunned for most of her life just proves that she was always meant to be Luna, my Luna.

About how I needed to ditch the black facade and act more like my twin. The thought made my stomach do something strange. I hated it. A couple of minutes passed again, and by past five, I found myself opening our conversation yet again. I re-read the entire thing. Fifteen minutes passed, and I was still reading it. My thumb swiped, and I went searching for any e-book copy of The Great Gatsby. The search came up dead. I went back to our entire conversation at around six in the morning, and yet again, I read the whole thing.

I asked softly, clearing my throat and sitting upright. "In "The Great Gatsby," F. Scott Fitzgerald uses the motif of the green light to symbolize various themes throughout the novel. How does the green light evolve as a symbol and its significance in relation to Gatsby’s character and his pursuit of the American Dream?" he asked. His eyes never left mine. I swallowed. I tried to wreck my brain for that answer, but I had been caught up in so many things, "I'm not sure what the answer is to that," I replied. I refused to look at Cris, I felt so small.

But I didn't know why they were making such a big deal, if anything I'm helping them. The professor crossed his arms, just staring at me like I’d ruined his whole day. “Alright then,” he said, voice low but sharp. “Since you seem to know better, Miss…” “Lena Hart,” I replied quickly, my heart already beating fast. “Miss Hart,” he repeated, slowly, like my name tasted bitter in his mouth. “Tell me, what’s the deeper meaning behind the green light in The Great Gatsby?” I froze. Shit. I knew what most people said it meant—hope, dreams, blah blah—but the way he was staring at me told me that wouldn’t be enough. He wanted something deeper. Something more.

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.

Since she had woken me up from sleep and I couldn't go back to bed, I decided to read my favorite novel of all time – The Great Gatsby. I closed the book as soon as I heard loud sounds coming from Justin's apartment. "Is that? Oh my God, that is Grace moaning." I said with the realization. How shameless can they both be? I had a feeling she was deliberately doing that to spike me up and it was working. I tried to concentrate and go back to the book I was reading but her moans were just getting louder – I needed to get out of here. I picked up my phone and dialed Stella's number. It was the only thing my head could come up with at that time.

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.