A double whammy of Fitzgerald! And this time I’m… Neither positive nor negative. It’s a mildly terrifying thing to have no strong feelings towards a classic that has been recommended by multiple people you love and respect. Is there something wrong with me that I felt absolutely nothing for this book? Probably. It’s not as bad as the time I read A Picture of Dorian Gray (I cannot describe the hatred I felt for that pretentious drivel of a book) but still, I feel like I’m letting my American friends down.
It’s not that I thought that it was a bad book. There were just some gaps in the narrative that meant that I had to keep flicking back and it simultaneously felt too long and too short. I felt like it was a story that should have either been dramatically written in short story form, or beautifully written in epic form.
Perhaps it’s also a cultural thing. I mentioned in my previous post that I’m used to the twenties of British novels… Perhaps there’s something missing in my cultural awareness that meant things passed me by? Maybe I’m trying to make excuses for why I didn’t feel moved by a novel so wildly loved. I don’t know. In any case I felt something was lacking.
I’m watching the film with my mum this weekend. Perhaps I’ll revisit it after I’ve got a feel for that.