This was a book I bought on a recommendation of sorts and it sat (with many others) by my bedside for a few months, unread. I tried to start it but never got anywhere with it - the first couple of pages somehow just didn't draw me in.
I can't remember how it happened but at some stage I was drawn, slowly at first and then without any reserve. There are many layers to why I enjoyed the book so much: an enthralling story of deep human tragedy; the Jazz-age context; the New York setting. It has a lot going for it.
But it's the quality of the writing that really did it for me. Fitzgerald's writing by turn dazzles, intrigues and astonishes. He had a rare gift for conjoining words and images that seem at first sight thoroughly incompatible but which, on further reading, disclose a deep awareness of the possibilities of language.
Surely one of the greatest shorter novels of all time.
