This is an ineffable task.
I decided to write a review to this masterpiece two weeks ago, when I finished reading the book. So effusive with the intensity of the story, I have been meaning to write this in a while. But…but anything I write or say or think doesn’t so nicely explain the state of my heart as I followed the roller-coaster, which was the life of Mr. Jay Gatsby.
But I’ll try.
Jay Gatsby was a man of charisma, of humbleness, and a man who truly loved no one other than Daisy all his life. Having lost the chance of being with her in the past, Gatsby made himself from scratch just to be worth a man for Daisy. All his riches, all his reputation, all his parties were all in the name of Daisy. And when he finally gets together with Daisy…he is back in the past, to the time he spent with her, to the time he first kissed her.
Daisy, overwhelmed with her love for Gatsby, wants to run away and be with him forever, static in a time when love is all that is required. But Gatsby wants her to stay with him in this time and claim her love for him by telling her husband that she never loved him. But Daisy was stuck between the love she felt both for Gatsby and her husband, Tom, and could not say so; and after seeing the altercation between Tom and Gatsby, she just wants to go back to her already existent life.
While Daisy is in the mindset of getting away from this mess, Gatsby is too deep in love with Daisy, only waiting for her call, for all his dreams to fall into place. All Gatsby is waiting for is Daisy to understand…to understand that all he did in his life was done to lead him to her, all he has become is for her, all the riches are for her, all his love, just everything, it’s for her. But he finds it so hard to make her understand, the way she did five years ago.
On Gatsby’s funeral, the realization Nick faces is the truth. Nobody from those lavish parties cared to attend Gatsby’s funeral. Nor did any of his business associates. Daisy didn’t even bother sending a flower.
People just walk in your life and do what they please, not realizing how fragile a heart is. And these people, careless as they are, walk out of the mess they make as if everything is just shimmering stars. And you, with the heart that loves, keep chasing after the shimmering light from the past, so that one day it can fit into your vision of the future. But it only drags you down, into the place where the past has long far gone.
In the end, I would like to thank Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald for writing this masterpiece.