Book Report: The Great Gatsby

One of the highlights of my current trimester is my American Literature class. That I'm not actually a student, and it's not actually a class I'm graded for makes it infinitely better than the English classes I took myself in high school (though I did like those best, back then). 

I work as a special education paraprofessional at a high school, and support different students in their mainstream classes throughout the day. This semester I landed in a couple of writing courses, a social studies class, an ecology class, and the contemporary American Literature class. As soon as the teacher handed out the syllabus, I determined that I would read each selection right along with the students, though I'm not really required to as part of my job. But hey, I can better help my student if I'm following along with all the coursework, right?

We started with The Great Gatsby, a book I read on my own time several years ago. I can't tell you how much better I liked it the second time around.

Really, it's all about the American Dream. And it's an interesting time in history to think about the social construction of the American Dream, at least the popular definition of what exactly that is. In this day and age, there just doesn't seem to be anything dreamy about it. We've all been sold this idea that anyone can get anything they want in this country, if only they want it badly enough to work for it. But we were built upon some half-baked idea that freedom and democracy and order add up to equal fairness for all, and that argument just doesn't really hold water. 

That much was evident even back in the 1920s, at least according to F. Scott Fitzgerald. Since he started out as a bit of a nobody himself, and was propelled into "somebody" status with the publication of a popular early novel, he must have had some tender feelings toward the idea that anybody can make it in America with a little gumption and a lot of hard work. But the passage of time must have soured that idea in Fitzgerald's mind, and The Great Gatsby really captured that notion that there is a social class which no American has access to without being born into it. 

The story, for those who've never read it, is about the millionaire Jay Gatsby, a rich and mysterious bachelor who seems to appear out of nowhere one day to become the toast of the opulent east coast, namely the trendy West Egg, just outside of New York City. He is followed wherever he goes by incessant gossip about his past -- it's a favorite pastime even at the man's own parties for guests to sit around guessing at how he came to be the grandiose man he is.

But Gatsby seems to stir up trouble in the posh East Egg, home to those with a long history of inherited wealth. Namely, Daisy Buchanan, with whom he once shared a brief romance, and her now-husband, the spoiled and bigoted Tom Buchanan. The story is narrated by Nick Carraway, neighbor and eventual friend to Jay Gatsby, and cousin to Daisy. 

I love a book with a good twist, or an element of shock that keeps your mind racing for days. The Great Gatsby has that, but it also has a thousand other quieter points to reflect upon. One question seems to ask how far we can really get ahead in this country, on will and determination alone. Back then, there seemed to be an invisible line that, try as you might, you'd never cross without the proper name and bloodline. The same seems so true today. 

I'm not sure how anyone currently defines the American Dream, but I personally think it exists now only as a memory. It's a wistful little piece of propaganda that kept our country afloat for many years by keeping the little human worker bees working, imagining that someday, all that effort would pay off. 

If we could all just admit that, and work towards building and maintaining a somewhat level playing field for everyone, rich and poor, black, white, purple or tan, gay or straight, then I think we'd be on the right track.

But we should definitely read Gatsby before we try to head out there and change the world. It's a sad and fascinating fable about the flimsiness of misplaced dreams.