You’re wasting your time reading this, trust me. Absolutely nothing of importance lies ahead for you. No spoilers, no poetic ramblings of how great the 20’s were, and certainly no discuss of literary biases. In fact, there is going to be absolutely nothing of substance here and I am just delaying actually writing about the fact that I read this book because I have nothing to say, but here we go.Ugh.
This really should be titled “Read The Great Gatsby.” In high school I hated every single book they made us read. The Crucible? Lame. Lord of the Flies? Too many dudes. Old Man and the Sea? JUST THE WORST. Alright, you caught me. I only read Lord of the Flies because the worksheets Ms. Clair handed out were easy. I’ve always hated being told what I should read. I stand by the idea that as long as you’re reading, it doesn’t matter what it is. You’re learning something and increasing your vocabulary. I should know. I read eight wrestling biographies last year.
Out of all the books I was supposed to read The Great Gatsby seemed like the only one that would keep my interest. And I would be lying if I said that the Gatsby inspired party in “Fever Pitch” didn’t put this idea in my head. People in the 1920’s boozed, danced, and dressed in sparkly outfits without a care in the world. They were way more interesting than any of us could ever hope to be. They also sat around and did nothing , which is a concept I will never understand.
So, armed with only this knowledge about the novel and the small desire to read it, I forged on. Every night before I went to bed I would try to read a little off of this website that offered the book for free. I didn’t want to pay for it! (Do you really want to keep reading this? I’m boring myself and struggling for content).
Let’s just jump to it shall we? Without further ado, the worst review of any book ever.
I didn’t like it. I had a hard time following it. The first fifty pages just felt like some masturbatory name dropping of characters that I would later learn I didn’t need to give a shit about. None of them. I’m aware there are characters I am supposed to care about but they are incredibly annoying.
I couldn’t follow it. Maybe I’m dumb, or I just don’t give a shit, but I found myself having to constantly go back to figure out what was going on.
There. That’s your review.
I can take a few things away from this…
1. There are pros and cons to reading on my ipad. There is something awesome about being able to hold a book in my hands. And it’s a welcome distraction from the type face that I see all day every day at work. I like being able to measure my process. Psychologically, not being able to do that played a number on me. However, being able to read without having to have a light on was awesome. Once again technology is making me feel conflicted. (Having an iPad is the best, though. Seriously.)
2. It doesn’t matter if something is rated as “the best ever”; I don’t have to like it. Plenty of things have been rated as the best that I haven’t cared about, but for some reason people are really passionate about their books. Passion is great. Embrace it, but don’t push your literary ideals on my literary ovaries, man.
3. I should’ve stopped reading it when I first got annoyed (page one), but my undying commitment to this project prevented me from giving up. I used to be someone that gave up on things a lot of the time when they became boring or uninteresting. Over the last few years I have tried to make more of an attempt to give things a chance. I’ve realized that life is too short to spend time on recreational activities that you don’t like. Do/read/love/write/watch/eat what you enjoy.