on a rainy library trip today i decided to foray back into some great american classics of literature. i really wanted to read something that i have never read, and when i tell people i’ve never read it they usually gasp aloud: catcher in the rye by salinger. apparently, though, this is a popular choice, seeing as it was completely absent from the library shelf. so instead i picked up the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald and of mice and men by john steinbeck.
i’ve now read the great gatsby (it is way shorter than i remember from english class), and i loved it all over again. the man sure had a way of creating mood, environment, visceral texture. the plot is interesting and dynamic in all of its own ways, but i really just love it for how it immerses me in the jazz age so fully. it’s just so wonderfully jazzy and breezy and swishy fabrics and expensive classic cars and cigarettes and dual worlds and mistresses and death and just well done. well, well done, f. scott.