If you see me breaking into swing kicks during my neighborhood walks, it’s because I’m listening to the Great Gatsby soundtrack. I admit it—I’m in love with all things Gatsby right now.
This affair started around 15 years ago though I can’t remember exactly when I first read the book or when I read it a second time. In fact, I recently had to admit to myself that I couldn’t remember much about it at all minus some passages I liked and a general story line. So, when I walked over to my glorious bookcases, with the intention of plucking it out for a quick re-read before seeing the new Baz Luhrmann film, I stared at my Fs in disbelief. (Yes, most of my fiction is alphabetized, one of the very few areas of true organization in my life.) In fact, I found nothing from F. Scott Fitzgerald there except a collection of short stories. I walked away disturbed and confused, wondering what had happened to my book in which some favorite passages were underlined.
Amazon Prime comes fast but not as quickly as my opportunity to finally go see the new film ended up presenting itself. With two pre-schoolers, it is rare that “no kids” coincides with a specific movie’s schedule, so these opportunities must be seized quickly. Thus, my re-reading was, gasp, going to have to wait until after the film. I cringed at this literary faux pas.
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went something like this:|