The Death Of The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald

“I want her to be safe.” Nick whispered. It wasn’t a lie, but Nick just had a horrible way of going at it. “She’s my friend.”

“We brought you here because Anna is studying you in class, and needs to ask you some questions .” Paisley said with a smile. “

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald is the compelling story of the lengths one man goes to in order to try and win back the love of his youth. In order to do so, the titular figure of the novel, Jay Gatsby, reinvents himself from the hardscrabble soldier of his younger years into an enigma of a millionaire; during his time living at West Egg, Gatsby is revered by all, but known by none. Despite the lavish lifestyle which has made him ever so well known, Gatsby is never able to win back Daisy, the girl who has for so long represented the culmination of all of his desires. To convey the complex themes of the novel, Fitzgerald makes use of the literary techniques discussed in How To Read Literature Like A Professor by Thomas C. Foster, especially in his portrayal of the geography of the Eggs and in Gatsby’s quest to win Daisy’s affection. In his novel The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald uses Gatsby’s desperate struggle to ingratiate himself into Daisy’s life to illustrate how one can never overcome the socio-economic barriers placed upon them at birth.

  Released in 1925, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby cleverly demonstrates the manners and morals commonly practiced throughout the time period. The plot revolves around several main themes and effectively expresses Fitzgerald’s unique perspective. With an objective standpoint, Nick Carraway narrates the story as Jay Gatsby, a foolish racketeer, tries to win over his lifelong love, Daisy Buchanan. Although pecuniary matters can often be too large of an influence on human relationships, the novel unveils several powerful battles entangling love, morals, and money.

Sybil Isabel Dorsett, a shy, twenty-two-year-old substitute teacher, became an interesting case, when the Sybil came into a mental health facility complaining of severe memory loss that resulted in unknown store bought items, “waking up,” in strange place, and severe social anxiety that again resulted in a loss of time, and memory, blackouts, and emotional breakdowns, in public places. What was first thought to be hysteria, turned into another problem, after experiencing some of the patients, “hysteria.” Born, and raised in the suburbs of Dodge Center, Minnesota, to a very successful and well respected carpenter, and architect, Walter Mason, and an often described as, “bizarre,” stay-at-home mother, Martha “Mattie” Atkinson. Sybil seemed to have the all-American family, but reports sexual abuse at the hands of her well-respected mother, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia years before Sybil was born. A much respected art teacher at Columbia university, Sybil often teaches art classes to university students.

“Eh, anywhere is fine as long as it’s a place you know I don’t like.” We both laughed.

When the two goons see three more cars coming down the road, thankfully, they decide to let their captives free. As we roll out, they make it clear to us we are not welcome back. The group decides to just go back to Austin’s house. We should have never left that house in the first place. I do not even turn the radio on as I drive back because all I can think is “I knew something bad was gonna happen tonight.” Never again will I ignore my gut and blindly follow my doltish friends. When we finally get home I ask Micah and Seth, the leaders of this train to Crazyville, what

About two thirty that afternoon, up pulls Willie and he almost fell as he was getting out of his truck; one, because it had not come to a complete stop yet and two, because he was as drunk as a skunk and trying to do a two-step as soon as his boots hit the ground. He was toting a toy popgun and my Little Marcus’ eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as he squealed with delight when his uncle Willie picked him up and threw him into the air like he always did, especially when he was about drunk or in a good mood. However, this time he almost dropped Marcus and it severely pissed me off. It was all I could do not to give him a good cussing, but in order to once again, keep the peace I bit my tongue and avoided him until he left. I was hoping that everything would go smoothly, but that, too, was not about to happen.

When he’s in his cell for the first night, stripped of his armour and with cuffs of steel on his legs and arms he sleeps only fitfully.

"Okay, and yeah I know where that is, I had my first date there. Here will this work."

“For the baby Eva. You've thought about where you want to go to take her?”

“I don't know who she is anymore, or who she was, but I need to find her.”

“We’ll stop there for the time being and figure out what we’re going to do,” Evan said as he nodded towards a brown-brick building just off to the right.

The sounds coming from the crowds in Boston were like silent growls coming from an hungry lion. Parliament continued to take their money, tax after tax. Boston squirmed with people trudging through the cold with faces holding nothing but hard frowns. Patriots filled the streets dressed in long coats and mittens. Some rode in buggies blocking the wind with their quivering hands. Others walked slowly dreading to purchase the food for their meals. Everyone was already paying the taxes from Sugar and Stamp acts, which was more than enough. Everything we bought, everything we needed, there was a tax.

“Please-e-e-e help her!” Evan carried on putting on a show for the officers. “Felicia, No, Don’t Leave Me!”