If I were living in bizarre world, I could probably relate with the main character in “The Great Gatsby.” Unfortunately, I don’t live in bizarre world. For one thing, I’m just not that into the music of the twenties. Probably the only song from the nineteen twenties that I’m really familiar with is “The Codfish Ball.” Or maybe also that song from the film “The Shining.” But was that really from the twenties, or just something made to sound like it was from that era? Also, didn’t Shirley Temples sing “The Codfish Ball?,” because I thought she was from the 30’s. This is the essence of how much I know about the music of the nineteen twenties. Plus the fact that most male singers back then seemed to have really annoying, nasally, irritating voices. In fact, the “roaring twenties” seemed to be more of a “meow” when it came to music as far as I’m concerned. Then again, I’m not too “Gaga” about the mainstream music of today either. But I digress.
Other than that, I really can’t relate to this character at all. I don’t live in a mansion. My house is not fit for throwing big parties, and on top of it…I don’t like big parties. Usually when I’m at a party, I’m just standing there alone (usually with sunglasses on) and I get the feeling that by standing there I’m creeping people out. And you know something…I know I’m creeping them out. And I don’t mean to, that’s just me. Because I’m really tall, I have long hair, I’m usually wearing all black, and it’s hard to see my face, other than the sunglasses I wear, which are actually mirrors. So when I’m standing there alone, you can try to look into my eyes, and end up seeing nothing but yourself. You see you and I see you, but you can’t see me. All this just doesn’t seem to help out with the whole social thing.
Another thing is that back then, people didn’t seem to care about their health that much. They didn’t know that you can extend your life by avoiding things that or bad for you. After all, living to be forty was considered a ripe old age. And usually, if you lived to be forty, you looked like you were at a ripe old age. So those people at the parties would probably be smoking a lot and eating foods without preservatives. And on top of it, they looked like they weren’t being preserved. One time I was at a party, and I had a cup of tea that I wouldn’t drink because it had sugar in it. A girl said, “I command you to drink this tea in the name of Jesus!” I thought, “Do I drink the tea and prove for her that there is a God, or do I refrain, and fill her with doubt, and make her skeptical and scientific by not drinking the tea?” She’s probably and atheist now.
Another reason why I can’t relate with this Great Gatsby guy is that if I am going to use big words, I am going to use then when they are needed, which is not often, unless you’re a snob, which the main character of this book seems to be. Snobbery can exist in many forms. One of them being wine tasting, where you smell the “bouquet,” or as I call it, the “scent” of the wine, and put it on your “pallet,” or as I call it, the “tongue.” It can also come in loving all the works of Shakespeare, and poetry that doesn’t rhyme. And of course in waxing beat poetry like what David Crosby did in that CSNY documentary. And in trying to get interested in things that are really boring, because I’ve noticed that if you’re into things that are really boring, people are going to think that you’re really smart. Because I just can’t figure out why else they’d be interested in something so boring!
So in conclusion, maybe I’m just not snobby enough to relate to this guy. I can't relate. But then again, I have only read six pages. Maybe by the time I’m done with this novel, I will be wine tasting (at a legal age that is!) and going to parties (and liking it) and listening to music from the twenties. Maybe it won’t be the great gas bag after all. Maybe to me, it will actually be “The Great Gatsby!,” as the title says. But for now, I just can’t relate.