The Great Gatsby Reflection Essay

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I used to be a bookworm, but as my years went by my interest and appetite for books went through a rapid decline. Sooner rather than later the only time I would find myself turning the pages again and imagining the scenes that take place on them would be for class assignments. Sure a few of them from time to time caught my eye: The Odyssey, To Kill a Mockingbird, Frankenstein, but they were all more of a chore than any pleasure. Junior year however we were assigned a book that actually subverted my previous expectations and had me begging to read the next page and discuss I was appalled. The glitz and the glam, the insistence on the past, the strenuous tensions of the world built, I felt alive, I felt great, I felt greater than titular character himself; I WAS the Great Gatsby, but I was also the Greater Gatsby for in the end I turned out far better than he. The summer of 1922, wondrous parties are being thrown, green lights are beckoning, legs are being spread in extramarital affairs, and the narrator Nick Carraway, unbeknownst to himself, walks right into the fray. Yes, The Great Gatsby is not narrated by Gatsby himself, as why would someone as great as Gatsby sink below the mantle to narrate his own tale, this is only a testament to how much of a larger than life character Jay Gatsby is, for now. So Nick coming back from World War I moves into West Egg, Long Island next to the titular Gatsby and across the Island Sound from his cousin Daisy Buchanan and her husband Tom

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