Yeah, that's right, I haven't read The Great Gatsby yet. I just kept putting it off and putting it off all through junior high and high school. But now, in my last days as a high school senior, I will finally read me some Fitzgerald!
I started it last night after putting Interpreter of Maladies aside for a bit (it's an excellent book but whenever I'm reading short stories I need time to digest them individually, and these stories in particular weigh rather heavily on the heart) and got about fifty pages into it. By that time, I was totally hooked (how have I not read this before? Someone remind me?), but it was two a.m. and I wanted to be able to devote my full and wide awake attention to it, so I stopped.
On an unrelated tangent, I found a full time job for the summer, which is both good and bad. It is good in that it will provide me with a source of income to buy books with, but bad in that I will have limited time to complete my Summer Reading Challenge (the details of which I am still contemplating). Oh well, it can't be helped.
Lately I've been reading so fast (about a book a day, give or take) that I worry I'm not actually absorbing anything. My whole life is in overdrive for this last week of school/activities before graduation (oh my god I graduate in a week and two days) and I think my reading has gone into overdrive too. I will probably have to go back and reread the books I've read in the past month. Like Atkinson's Not the End of the World? I picked it up last night thinking that I hadn't read it yet. Then I remembered, after reading the first few pages, that I'd just finished it last week.
Also, I'm sick. That is all.
"If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away." p. 6, The Great Gatsby.
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