Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Gatsby - 14 Years Later

New York - High Line Park

Hello Lemon Ricotta Cookie Bakers!

I hope your cookies are turning out well - has anyone discovered a way to make them not quite as flat?

This year blogging got off on the wrong foot. I didn't even post my annual Kat Recap. I still intend to post it, but every time I think about doing it - something gets in the way.  I think it's something that has to do with pictures, but I can't remember.

Anyway, the year is off to a pretty good start, but since I never posted the recap, I felt like I couldn't write about other things.  So that means that our AJP trip to LA, Dare to Dance, San Francisco, my Birthday, the Glee Flash Mob, Sock Puppets, Easter, and New York (oh, New York) will just have to wait.

But tonight I will write about Gatsby, because I read it and now I feel like writing.  Actually, I feel like writing most days, but I feel like I can't because I don't have the time, and if I have the time to write, certainly I have time to clean my apartment or do any of the million things on my To Do List.

I started Gatsby over the weekend and then read the majority of it between Sunday and Monday.  Why?  "Book Club" is tomorrow and we're going to see the new movie.  Technically I didn't have to read the book for book club...because that's the kind of book club we are, but since I have always sucked at book clubbing, I thought it would be nice to pretend like I CAN be a person who reads the book and then...possibly contributes to a discussion about it.

I fail at book clubbing because I don't have opinions that I care to defend regarding the "issues" that "matter" in a book.  I don't care to discuss themes or intention - or perhaps I'll discuss them but I'm not going to argue with you about it.  I also can't always articulate why I liked or disliked something. It does not make for lively discussion.  Plus I get bored of people just sharing "interesting" points or guessing at what certain things mean.  See?  This is why I don't usually book club.

But I really do enjoy reading!  While it seems like my reading pattern comes down to poor planning, I think I subconsciously enjoy burying myself for hours in a book rather than reading a few chapters a day.  I like the feeling to emerging from a story and having to remember where I am.  Then it can take hours or days for me to fully recover; it's like I walk around in the fog of the story - it surrounds me until it slowly dissipates over time.

Of course it worked to my favor this time that The Great Gatsby is a short novel.  I have to say, it was refreshing to read something that jumps to the point - "...and then THIS happened.  Now let me tell you about this other day - in the middle of the page.  Oh, you thought I had more to say about that first night?  You would be wrong.  Moving on."  I can appreciate the concise.

One thing I always notice in books is when authors use the similar phrases to describe things.  Fitzgerald uses a lot of color in his descriptions ..but leans heavily toward the white, grey, and silver.  I don't want to discuss what that means - I just notice it.  The author is always either making a point or was stuck on ways to describe things.

14 Years Later..? This book was of course on our high school reading list.  Supposedly I read it my senior year.  I'm not certain that actually happened.  I remember having the book; I even remember taking it on an airplane to read over spring break....but honestly it was like reading it for the first time this weekend.  I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't actually read it senior year...I was really busy that spring! :-)

The Movie.  There are mixed reviews.  I don't care - it will be beautiful.  Leo will be perfect for the role. (I basically feel that he can do no wrong.  I can't wait until some day when my kids make fun of him and I'm all "you don't understand!!!!")  It's so hard for me to actually imagine the opulent 20's - did they really exist?  Of course the movie will add an element of fantasy, and that afterward I'll still never fully comprehend that the roaring 20's were real and not fiction.

...someone told me once that I was their Daisy.  Not an very flattering comment.  I can assure you that it had nothing to do with wealth or my driving abilities and that it had more to do with being sought after from afar and my inability to meet [unrealistic] expectations.  Not much I can do about that one, is there?  I wonder if that will come up at book club.

*Cheers to tomorrow - [and since I don't believe in running] Here's to stretching out your arms farther!*


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