One book down, one to go. Let’s say I am extremely relieved to be done with The Great Gatsby. Not to say that I did not enjoy the book but it will definitely not go on my favorite books self in my room. Plus, who likes a book where the man in the title dies alone and depressed? I should hope not too many people out there enjoy that sick twist on literature. It was a let down that he didn’t have an enormous funeral however I believe his death did not go unnoticed, despite whatever Britney tries to argue.
Maybe it proves a fact that once you are gone society doesn’t really care about you. They might care about what you accomplished in your life but not about you personally. So, perhaps it is not sad that Gatsby died and only a few came to his funeral because those were the couple that actually cared about him and not what he had done in life, or how many awesome bangers he threw in his mansion. Daisy obviously never cared and needed to focus her attention on her marriage which was slowly dissolving. Although I found it a tad hypocritical that Mr. Gatz came because he had not even talked to his son in a couple of year’s minimum, it was still a nice gesture.
All I know is when I die, I hope a lot of people come to my funeral, even if they are not going to miss my presence or celebrate what I once was, I would never want my parents seeing me with no one in the end. That would hurt them too much. Is that not the point of funerals anyways: To provide closure for the living, and allow one last glimpse at a soul you once loved? The most difficult thing to cope with is that you do not know what time you will leave. I mean that no one can predict their death down to the very millisecond. In a morbid way, people who are diagnosed with terminal diseases are lucky. Well, their friends and families are. They get the privalige to cope with their loved ones dying away. They know the time is coming and they brace themselves from the pain. People like Mr. Gatz and Nick had to endure the pain suddenly. Their stages of shock will be different then those who know death is knocking.
I wish there was a novel that was written in the perspectives of Daisy or Mr. Gatsby himself. Hopefully that novel would include some insight as to what people felt and thought some time after Mr. Gatsby’s death. Does nick ever have the memories of Gatsby pop into his thoughts during a sunny day or does Daisy ever look out the window and dream of a life with Mr. Gatsby despite the fact it would have been too late to ever find out. I wish questions such as these were answered, but I suppose that is the magic of literature. It provokes thought without resolving it. Literature forces one to think and never promises a happily ever after; never promises a false reality.