The Great Gatsby (Penguin Critical Studies Guide)

This is a tremendous indictment of the superficiality of elite society. Surprisingly, it is Gatsby himself who is both the most real and the most fake of the elite described within. Gatsby utterly invents himself to become a part of elite society, and as a result his pretensions of cultured society remain mere pretensions. However, throughout all of this pretended culture Gatsby has a singular very real purpose in mind, and in so doing becomes thoroughly real because of those pretences. By showing us Gatsby's defined purpose, F. Scott Fitzgerald shows us the reality of Gatsby far more than is ever seen of Jordan Baker or Tom and Daisy Buchanan. (Admittedly, Nick Carraway is the most real character within the novel, but he not actually part of the elite he describes.)

That indictment of elite society aside, the real beauty of "The Great Gatsby" is its lesson that life cannot be relived. Gatsby devotes his life to recapturing a period of happiness from his life and recreating it exactly as it was, trying in the attempt to obliterate the years and events that have fallen between. In this attempt he comes very very close - close enough to be forgiven his belief that it was possible - but in the end his dream is impossible. Had he been willing - or able - to accept the changes that the intervening years necessitated then this more realistic dream might possibly have been achieved, but by insisting on a return to events as-they-were Gatsby dooms himself to an inevitable failure of his dream. It is said that you can't go home again; "The Great Gatsby" is an almost perfect metaphor for that maxim.

Ultimately, this is a beautiful and tragic novel. It is eminently readable, and its status as an American classic is well-deserved.

Well written and researched book on the Great Gatsby by an insightful and thoughtful scholar. I found it interesting to see her take on a major, popular, male American author during an intriguing time of change in American society. For the Gatsby afficcionando, the Fitzgerald student, as well as the individual interested in American social thought post WWI, will find this study, particularly since it is done from a British viewpoint, a valuable perspective. Many insightful footnotes and asides. References are made to Penguin's edition of the Great Gatsby but it is not necessary to have this edition. For the general reader who wishes more understanding about this tremendous novel I suggest Kathleen Parkinson's fine study an important companion.

I thought this was the real Great Gatsby book with additional commentary, but it is primarily a commentary with little of the original text.
This version does not include the complete text of the book like some of the other editions do.


The commentary is okay, but not as helpful as some other study guides.

I read this in high school and remember wishing the book would end quickly. That was fifteen years ago. By some whim, I picked it up again...and wished it would never end. Maybe it's a sign of maturity. God willing.
Fitzgerald's writing style is so fluent and enjoyable that you want to read his words aloud. I began to read Tender is the Night after being so enthralled with The Great Gatsby, and though it still had the same poetic flow of words, the story seemed to crawl unbearably (I didn't get past page 75). The Great Gatsby is a masterpiece though. The more books I read, the more I realize that there are no "great authors," only authors with moments of greatness. The Great Gatsby was Fitzgerald's great moment.

I finished reading "The Great Gatsby" two days ago, an endeavor that took me more than a week to complete. Not that the novel is voluminous; in fact it's a rather slight 172 pages. It took me that long because for the most part I was bored silly. I didn't care a whit about the characters, and that's all there really is to the book: a bunch of vapid characters. You'd think that a book so highly acclaimed for so long would have at least some semblance of story to hang its hat on. Alas, it is not so. And Fitzgerald's prose, and I know I'm in the minority opinion here, never reached me. Many times I caught him trying too hard, reaching for poetry but landing short on dogged doggerel.

That being said, after 48 hours of contemplation, I realize that I really do like the book. Mostly.

Why? First of all, it features a finely realized paradoxical title character. Gatsby (both the character and the novel, as it turns out) isn't so great. Is the title ironic? He doesn't appear for the first fifty or so pages, and then when he does he's introduced through a misunderstanding: it turns out he was sitting right there all along! He's a cipher, filled to the brim by the gossip and stories told about him during the parties in his own house. But nobody, save for narrator Nick and delicate Daisy, really gets to know him. The reader does, and finds him to be a prissy and pretentious fakir, prone to calling everyone "Old Sport" without ever meaning that term as an endearment. Not great at all, I'd say.

The book's second saving grace is that it ends on a spectacular note. The last thirty pages or so hold some of the best writing I've ever read. While the novel opens with a constant barrage of strangers welcomely crashing the elaborate parties that Gatsby gives every night, the novel ends with a scenario exactly opposite to that. I'll leave it to your reading to discovery what that might mean. Without giving away any of the content of these chapters, I will say that they are filled with tangible pathos, visceral emotion, spare but vivid prose, and heartbreaking reality. It makes me wish that Fitzgerald had focused his pen more on these poignant moments than on the abject flightiness that dominates the book's first three quarters. He does show throughout that he is more than capable of this. His flair for dramatic moments sporadically rears its head. There's a moment when Tom suddenly breaks Mrs. Wilson's nose. It comes out of nowhere for the reader, but upon reflection, it doesn't feel contrived. It's one of Fitzgerald's strengths that I wish he'd have utilized more often.

His other strength, and the third of the book's great features, is the way he uses his narrator. Nick Carraway at one point says, "I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known." It's a curious statement for a narrator to make. "Believe me," he appears to be saying. "All of this is true." It's the unreliable narrator (his recollections may or may not be clouded by his affection for Gatsby) protesting against his inherent unreliability. Nick is beneath, in terms of class, the people he socializes with, which makes him less self-involved and more perceptive of others. At one point he suddenly remembers that today is his 30th birthday! Imagine this story told through the eyes of that uber-solipsist Daisy Buchanan? Or, for that matter, the self-deluded Gatsby himself? We'd never have gotten past the narrator's own eyelids. Nick goes much further than that, and is very effective in his role. And so is, as it turns out, Fitzgerald.