It’s been a super busy month, which is why I needed to take a small siesta from blogging. But, last week I went to see The Great Gatsby and it filled me with the kind of confusion/rage/annoyance/I-really-don’t-know-how-I-felt-about-that I can only interpret through venting my views upon the rest of the world.
This is a book blog, so regular readers will have to forgive the following journey into movie territory but this movie was adapted from a book (although what movie hasn’t been recently?) and I feel like that makes it fair game. Plus, in order to make sure my interpretation of the movie was correct, I re-read the book (I’ve been a little remiss in ‘what I’ve been reading’ posts lately, expect a blanket post to cover the last few books in the next few days).
Now before I launch into this – some words of warning- If you have not read/seen The Great Gatsby, and would prefer the ending to remain a mystery, I would advise you to cease reading this post. Secondly, this will not be a review (yes, I know I tagged it as one, but there isn’t really a quick way of saying in depth analysis that focuses on the very nature of interpretation, is there?) as all my review-like feelings about the movie have already been said here at Letters from a Patchwork Wizard (awesome blog run by equally awesome friend).