/lit/ - Literature

this is so well written. how is this considered high-school lit when the beauty of the prose would probably go over teenagers' heads?

is this book worth reading?

Please make me understand why is this book good and so appraised.
I read it and got nothing out of it. I didn't even find it entertaining or beautiful, just plain and boring. What am I to take from this book?

I think this book is one of the greatest ever written.

>>9727468
Brave New World is fucking awful. It's okay as a political work (even though Huxley later went off the deep end with that Indian voodoo shit), but it's not literature.

Anyways, pic related.

Was Tom redpilled?

>Americans call it "one of the greatest American novels of all time"
>It's literally High School Lit tier

What did they mean by this?

who was in the wrong here?

Do any of you think Owleyes is actually Dr. Eckleburg? If so does that even matter?

So is this a story of a cuck or an ambiguous man

Does anyone actually enjoy this book? I know its a "classic" and has "literary merit" and whatever, but has anyone here actually enjoyed the story or given a shit about any of the characters?
>inb4 only plebs read for plot or characters.
I get it you're so enlightened and better than me despite being a NEET

Why does nobody realize that Tom Buchanon did nothing wrong?

I've lost a friend and his name is Gatsby

Opinions on this classic

A lot of people say this book is about the futility of the American Dream, or about the decadence of rich people. But does anyone else think the book is about something much more innocent and sentimental? To me the main theme of the book is "nostalgia", trying to capture and hold onto the past. The end of chapter 6 really hammers it home for me

>He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was. . . .

And then a few paragraphs later after recalling the kiss with Daisy

>Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something — an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever.

The book just has this really sad element that the past has gotten away from you and that you can't take it back. Another passage that really stands out

>I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye. I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter into their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness. At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others — poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner — young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

The entire book just seems like it's about always feeling on the outside and failing to grasp what you really want from life. It's always just over the horizon, in view but never attainable. The "green light" is often viewed as very elementary symbolism but I find it profound in its simplicity. It's right in Gatsby's view, it's just across the bay, but forever unattainable. I'm curious if anyone has any thoughts on this?

>>9447191

We got a
>What are some of the ugliest redesign covers for classic novels?
so what are the best covers for classic novels?

It's one of the greatest novels ever written, in my opinion. Absolutely astounding work. But I'm wondering if the plot actually makes sense, or if there are one too many coincidences and contrivances...

But perhaps contrived plots are characteristic of most of the greatest works of literature.

What makes the prose in Great Gatsby so enjoyable to read?

>I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye. I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter into their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness. At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others — poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner — young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

Even the purely descriptive ones just feel so musical and enchanting

>It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York — and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals — like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end — but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.

What is the greatest symbol in literary history?

Spoiler: it's the green light

Essential bourgeois cuck reading

Why didn't they just drive their own fucking cars?