Why do I love the Great Gatsby so much? Like, most of me just wants to say it’s some stupid bourgeoisie novel about rich people problems and blah blah blah, but I can’t help constantly thinking that it’s so good.
Seriously. Love that novel.
Sterling, that’s because it is so good! And, I mean, it’s not so much “rich people problems” as much as they are human condition problems of love, and happiness, and blahblahblah. I FREAKING LOVE THAT BOOK!
I just always go back to Fitzgerald’s description of Daisy as someone who speaks quietly so you have to lean in closer to her to hear her. That’s the most succinct and intimate description of a character I’ve ever read. And you learn everything you need to know about Daisy from it too; you don’t even really need her physical descriptions or anything after that, it’s all just garnish.
I hope to be awesome enough one day to be worthy of such a good description.
Also, too tired, if I keep this up I’m just going to keep rambling incoherently about how great the Great Gatsby is. Blergh.
(Source: sadteenlesbian)