The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he really is very good, in spite of all of the people who say he is very good.
So opined Robert Graves. I could make a similar remark about something many of you have read: The Great Gatsby really is a fine novel in spite of generations of teachers pounding just how fine it is into their students’ heads.
A few years ago, I winced when I learned that when my freshman and sophomore college students told me that, when they were in high school, they had to write essays about the symbolism of the green light Jay Gatsby sees across the harbor, on Daisy's dock. Before those students' parents—and, possibly, grandparents—were born, I had to write an essay on the same topic. While I found it interesting—it was one of the first things that made me realize literary interpretation wasn’t just a pursuit for people with too much time on their hands-- it probably “killed” the novel, and perhaps any interest in literature, for many other students.
So why am I talking about such things today when spring “classics” are in progress and there’s all sorts of important news in the world of cycling? Well, 100 years ago today, The Great Gatsby was published.
To me, it’s an appropriate time to invoke my “Howard Cosell Rule
