I had heard a lot about this book by F. Scott Fitzgerald and was looking forward to reading it, but it proved to be another novel that failed to live up to the hype. The fact is that there is nothing great about Jay Gatsby. I found his character shallow and unconvincing. This is supposed to be a man who does well in the violent world of bootlegging and dealing with corrupt politicians and police officers, but he can’t bring himself to say hello to a girl he once knew. Instead, he concocts a preposterous plan in buying a large house directly opposite hers and throwing extravagant parties in the forlorn hope that one day she will walk through the door to see what’s going on, but she never does. Perhaps she is not a party animal? Gatsby might have found that out if he had bothered to just call on her, either by telephone or in person.

The failure of his first preposterous plan leads Gatsby into a rather puerile ruse of befriending the woman’s cousin who just happens to have rented a more modest abode within walking distance of the millionaire’s mansion and getting him to act as a go-between as if they were high school lovers. Although this does lead to a meeting between the two it also serves to annoy and raise the suspicions of the woman’s husband, also a wealthy man. Throughout all of this none of the characters emerge with any attractive qualities. They all seem shallow as if that were a social requirement of the time. The only person I felt any empathy for was the garage owner, Wilson. I do not necessarily agree with his final actions, but I can understand his pain at the thought that he had lost everything due to the carelessness of rich people.