The Great Gatsby   by F. Scott Fitzgerald

A quarter of the book is taken up by an academic-written introduction, which sets it up as the best American book ever. This rather puts expectations on a high level, and initial reading feels kind of disappointing: simple story, slightly daft.

The book itself is short.

An extremely rich man--Gatsby--besotted by a woman moves into the neighbourhood (actually the next one along; actually the next peninsula along a river) so that he can overlook her abode, and he throws grand parties to make himself famous in the neighbourhood and hopefully, ultimately, to attract the lady along. The story is told from the viewpoint of the actual next-door neighbour, who is initially just a by-stander but eventually becomes a good friend of Gatsby.

Things turn when a motor accident kills an innocent pedestrian, and it is Gatsby’s car driven by the man of the lady of his dreams.

[I need to read this book again. The gist of the story is subtly hidden beneath layers of interactions.]