I found myself on Gatsby’s side, and alone.
To Nick, and perhaps to the reader, it seems hard to believe that a man who hosted endless parties filled with endless people could be so quickly forgotten. Yet the West Egg people, and the upper class in New York, have revealed themselves as utterly blind to anything but their own needs and pleasure.
Nick Carraway, who still (by his own account) carries the straight-shooting Midwestern values his father had instilled in him at an early age, is left standing as the only person to pay proper respects to this man’s life. Saddened by the ugly truth of human nature in the East, he packs his bags and heads home.
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