The Great Gatsby: A man whose wife is fucking Gatsby shoots Gatsby to death in his swimming pool, and even though tons of assholes used to come to Gatsby's parties, no one goes to his funeral.
Gah! That is not the plot of The Great Gatsby.
True story: Years ago, someone asked me what my favorite novel was and feeling uncreative I said The Great Gatsby, and the questioner said something like, "What happens in that again?" Lots of symbols and sentences came to mind—the eyes, the eggs, the woman's breast getting sliced off in a car accident (not entirely off; it dangles from a flap)—but for the life of me I couldn't remember who was sleeping with whom and who wanted to be sleeping with whom and who was driving the car that got into the accident and who was said to be driving the car even though they weren't and all that stuff. It's just complicated, the tight little plot of that perfect little book. But I was humiliated that I couldn't recite the plot of my "favorite" book, so I went back and reread it JUST TO TEACH MYSELF THE PLOT, so that if anyone asked me again I'd be ready.
Well guess what? I forgot it again, because when the current books editor (Mr. Constant) turned in this synopsis to the former books editor (me)...
The Great Gatsby: George Wilson, a man whose wife is fucking Gatsby, shoots Gatsby to death and commits suicide. Almost nobody attends Gatsby’s funeral.
...I read it carefully, added some stuff, took out some stuff, and meanwhile completely missed the point that Wilson's wife isn't fucking Gatsby, Wilson just thinks his wife is fucking Gatsby. She's actually fucking Tom Buchanan, Daisy's husband.
We regret the error and apologize if getting the plot wrong has caused harm to your romantic overtures with English majors.
