Classics can be strikingly frightening albeit - I’m sure we can all agree - their popularity provokes certain bewilderment of excitement, trepidation and mass hysteria in all of us. And that is why I first read “The Great Gatsby”.

I’m sure all of us have experienced this moment when we take out a classic - say, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - and let it sit on our night table for a month before returning it, for we do not have the courage to take off in such a glorious adventure/story. Well, let me share a little secret with you: The Great Gatsby is not as difficult to read as some might claim! Though, evidently, Gatsby le Magnifique¹ is no Cinderella. You could even bet on my dim inexperienced mind to be able to acknowledge that. In his time, F. Scott Fitzgerald (Worthy of comparison to John Green in my literary world) craved to show his people the refinement in the blindness of the American Dream; the never-ending threat that death imposes on us; and the sinister end to our pursuit of happiness. The novel - published by Penguin Books in 1935 - is the tale of a man who built himself an illusion to live by.

Mr. Gatsby went from being an impoverished young man in North Dakota to creating himself a kingdom of wealthiness in West Egg; a kingdom where only silver cutlery shall be used; where raising your voice at supper is frowned upon; and every room, every office is off limits. But there was something missing. Something the young, prominent and astonishingly prosperous man never seemed to be able to get. His Daisy. A dignified lady: the striking image of a 94 carat diamond. Daisy Buchanan turned Gatsby into a melancholic puppy.

As well as the captivating characters, I was absolutely blown away by the writing style of the author. Every phrase, every word has a given meaning, every page makes you want to hear what the narrator Nick Carraway - a typical wallflower, naive enough to let himself be manipulated and used for other fellows’ benefits - has seen or heard and every chapter leaves your mouth hanging open. Whilst the artist the author is employs paradoxical words (“Paradoxical” for example) that my mind does not have the capacity to comprehend, altogether the masterpiece is simply thrilling. I could neither keep my eyes off the words nor my mind from pondering on the story. My heart sped off (Without my permission!) to 120 beats per second, leaving me unarmed in front of a daunting chef d’oeuvre².

Let me ask you, have ever felt this tingle of excitement when reading an accomplished author’s work? Have you?

I have. And it is the most inspiring feeling of all times, and as a consequence: only when reading the most excessively captivating stories, do I ever discern that intensity. It lights my heart on fire, and as I read The Great Gatsby... BAM! The novel lured me into this parallel universe where that scarcely familiar sentiment overtook the parliament of words.

I think as readers, we must embark on an excursion to another genre that we may not yet have discovered sometimes. I believe that it is essential for us to persevere when traveling to other literary worlds, which is why I never gave up on this story. So, to reiterate: by no means reject literature’s crowning accomplishments for the sole reason being that they intimidate you. The Great Gatsby is a phenomenal novel and I recommend it to anyone with the capacity to read - if not the world...

¹ The Great Gatsby

²  Masterpiece