The end is near. On May 27th, I will finally be leaving India; 12 days short of a full year.
It has been, by and far, the most intensive year of my life. When I first arrived in Mumbai I was mesmerized by the hustle and intensity of the place.
By the middle of the year the novelty and initial…
Holy shit, this is too true.
1) There is a nagging suspicion in your brain that there’s something missing. Not missing as in “Shit I lost my cell phone.” But missing as in, you wake up in the morning not really sure of your path in life, if this is really what you want to do, and if this perpetual hangover is…
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald troubled me at first, because for the better part of the novel I couldn’t really figure out why it held such literary significance. Sure, it was extremely readable and the characters proved to be engaging and intriguing. However, soon I was mid-way through the book and feeling as though the end was coming on way too early. The characters and plot seemed to develop in the blink of an eye. Nothing was drawn out, which unsettled me at first, but looking back, I realize that this economy of story was what made it so readable.
It also left plenty of room for the final denouement of the story, which is also where the novel really proves its worth. Narrating through the seemingly-detached character of Nick Carraway, Fitzgerald consistently makes penetrating observations of the other characters and of the scenes around him. The images produced are vividly sublime, yet in a very subtle, artistic way.
After all the characters finally collide and the dust settles, Fitzgerald makes the deepest and most powerfully profound observations. The physical imagery thoroughly reflects the somber tragedy of the unfolded story. However, its not the kind of melodramatic tragedy that brings about major catharsis, but one that is even deeper; because of its dull, subdued actuality. It’s difficult to clearly determine what Fitzgerald is trying to relate, but putting down this novel, there is no doubt that you’ve just witnessed something of unequivocal anguish. The sort of anguish that comes with nostalgic memories long forgotten.