The study hall in my high school was a large open area with beige desks lined in a row. Fluorescent lights dumbly hummed over the linoleum floors and trapped me in between. I mostly put my head on the desk, but occasionally, I’d read for pleasure, and one clear memory amidst the wasted days sticks out: reading The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel of American opulence, nostalgia, and the dream of self-determination, which turns 100 years old today.
Read Full Article »
