At the close of tenth grade, my high school English teacher set us a book to read over the Summer. That book was The Great Gatsby. I had never heard of the book, or even F. Scott Fitzgerald before, but I didn't care because I was so put out that I would have to read a "school" book over the holidays. While my holidays were, as always, filled with reading other books, I left Gatsby until the last week of holidays, when I popped into a book store and ordered it over the counter. I then went home and had a staring competition with the cover of the book, debating whether to actually read the thing, or to jump online and read the Cliff's notes.
I am so glad I opened it.
Had I read an overview, I would probably have never returned to the book again. I also would not have been so enchanted with it when I saw it at the movies tonight. Because half of what makes the story so wonderful is the language. While the story is quite beautiful, and emotional, it is the language that makes up the story. For the first time in my reading life, I understood what it meant to taste words.
He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.
One of the things that made watching the movie such a pleasure for me was that Luhrmann's script sprung so directly from the books. I found myself squeezing Wade's hand whenever my favorite quotes were spoken. Isn't it funny what poetic language can do to us?
So please read the book, if you are planning on seeing the film, if only to increase your movie-going pleasure tenfold. I promise you won't regret it.
- H
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