Gatsby? What Gatsby?

Assigned to me to read the summer before my sophomore year, Gatsby initially went right over my head. While it was my favorite summer reading book to me that year, that's all it was: summer reading. It wasn't until I re-read the novel just now that I realized its sheer brilliance.

Reading it before had been a bore, a necessity. I had to force myself to sit down to read only five pages. The way that I lay down just now for four and a half hours and read it cover to cover means either that I just had preconceived notions of the novel because it was summer reading, or that I'm older now and with more life experiences the material didn't fly right over my head. I have a feeling it's a little bit of both.

And when I say that it flew over my head when I initially read it, I mean it flew. It started with the way I didn't know how I was supposed to envision the West and East Eggs. The descriptions of the city didn't draw me in as they did now. The color imagery was so vivid - and Gatsby reaching for that green light. I didn't have any recollection of why that pair of "eyes" was such a big deal to the novel - probably because I had so much trouble then with the concept of the Eggs and the valley of the ashes. The eyes of T.J. Eckleburg thoroughly creeped me out every time they were mentioned because I knew it was supposed to be sort of God or morality frowning upon the characters who in such a short amount of time I was able to grow to love (for what they were).

I have a tendency to cling to the sweet, naive female characters in stories, and Daisy was no exception. I loved her from her first scene. But as I got past the mid-point of the novel, I stopped loving Daisy so much. After finishing I needed to contemplate that. It's not normal for me to lose faith in a character like I did Daisy. I felt like a disappointed parent. But then I realized: that was the entire point. While at first all we see of Daisy is her sweet, quirky demeanor and the outpouring of love from others to her, later she takes a different, crooked path, leaving Gatsby in his time of need. Gatsby was willing to stand below her window until four in the morning to make sure that her husband didn't hurt her and she wouldn't even acknowledge his death. Daisy herself is a personification of how vapid the wealthy could and still can be. I still love her for what she is - a beautiful little fool. And I only grew to like Jordan (who'd been my favorite character upon my first read-through two years ago) even more.