I found myself on Gatsby’s side, and alone.
To a reader it is hard to believe that a man who hosted endless parties filled with endless people could be so quickly forgotten for that matter. The sad truth is that West Egg people, and the upper class in New York seem utterly blind to the use of good manners and morals. The selfishness of the people is appalling to the reader. Nick Carraway, one of the few I’m sure who came from the midwest, still carried the values his father had instilled in him at an early age. Unsurprisingly the reader sees Nick as the only person to pay proper respects to this man’s life. Slowly, over deep reflection, Nick is saddened by the ugly truth of human nature in the east, and consequently he packs his bags back to the place where he first learned his midwestern values. His home.
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