10 Books That Aren't "The Great Gatsby"

F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby is a classic of American Literature. A cautionary look at the American Dream through the lens of The Jazz Age, The Great Gatsby remains a popular choice in school curriculums, and occupies a place of honor in the American Canon. Plus, there are totally naked women in the irises on the cover.

Surprisingly though, all books are not The Great Gatsby. It can be truly shocking the first time you pick up a copy of The Great Gatsby and it isn't. To help prepare for the shock, here are 10 books that it might not be.

10.  The Wind in The Willows

Although this book was also published in the early 20th century, you'll notice that it isn't actually The Great Gatsby. If you are reading The Great Gatsby, but one of the characters is a giant toad, you may have picked up The Wind In The Willows by mistake.

9. Das Kapital

Both Das Kapital and The Great Gastby have some things to say about the excesses of capitalism, but only one is considered a foundational text of Communism. If, at any point, Gatsby begins to extol the downfall of the bourgeoisie, check to make sure your copy of The Great Gatsby has not been switched for Das Kapital.

8. Everyone Poops

While this is certainly true, Fitzgerald made the (shocking at the time) decision not to include any lengthy descriptions of Jay Gatsby's bowel movements.

7. Beowulf

The similarities between Beowulf and The Great Gatsby are too numerous to recount here - suffice it to say that without his loyal band of Thanes, Gatsby would never have been able to make himself Shield-Warden of West Egg. It is important to not confuse the two stories though, as Beowulf managed to beat The Great Gatsby to print by a mere 12 centuries. If you struggle to tell the two stories apart, remember that Beowulf tears off Grendel's arm before following him to his lair.

6.  On The Origin of Species

On The Origin of Species was written by Charles Darwin following his 5 year voyage on the HMS Beagle, and serves as a seminal work for the scientific theory of evolution. While birds are mentioned from time to time in The Great Gatsby, it is unlikely that they are the Galapagos finches which served to inspire Darwin's theories. Maybe if Fitzgerald had spared, like, one fucking chapter describing their beaks we would know for sure. But he didn't, so we don't.

5. The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers

As you likely know, speculation that Nick Carraway was actually a wizard began soon after The Great Gatsby was published, and continues to this day. Even those who accept this theory admit there is little evidence that Nick was a member of White Council, or that he bore one of the rods of the Five Wizards. Because of this, The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers must, for the time being, be considered separate from Gatsby canon.

4. Twelve Years A Slave

Although much of Gatsby's past is left as a mystery to the reader, he almost certainly was not pressed into slavery in Louisiana at any point in his past. Some have pointed out that the name Solomon Northup, the author of the autobiographical Twelve Years A Slave, is in fact an anagram of The Great Gatsby, while others have pointed out that no it isn't.

3. True Tales from the Annals of Crime & Rascality

Many characters suspect that Gatsby's massive fortune was amassed through less-than-legal means; unfortunately True Tales from the Annals of Crime & Rascality neglects to mention Gatsby even once. Personally, I think that omission is the real crime here. Add that to your Annal and smoke it.  

2. How to Avoid Huge Ships

How to Avoid Huge Ships is perhaps the second best known book in the world, behind The Great Gatsby. Before its publication, thousands of people died each year after being hit by absolutely massive ships. Thankfully, that number has dropped to nearly zero now that the secret of "move out of the way of the giant object coming towards you" has been shared with the world. One important thing to note is although the long standing interpretation of The Great Gatsby holds that Gatsby dies after being shot in his pool, more recent scholarship indicates that he may actually have been hit by a huge ship while lounging in the water. 

1. The Mediocre Gatsby

In this unpublished prequel to The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald focuses on this one weekend when Gatsby got super drunk, and repeatedly asked passer-byes if they "have a henway". This continues for several hundred pages, until someone finally responds "What's a henway?" and Gatsby slurs "abou' fouror fife pounds" before passing out.

 

Part 11 - The End

Rory led us to the place where the final confrontation would be - that is to say, Hell. For some reason the journey took us just over 3 years of real time, none of which I documented. You'll just have to deal with it.

Just like we had to deal with the horrors of Hell.

Rory, bearing the fabled Golden Fiddle, approached the Gates of Hell. His face was set in grim determination as he walked up to the twisted doors of bone and metal that marked the entrance to the underworld.  

Rory stopped just before the gates, took a deep breath, and yelled, "Let the Lord of the Black Lands come forth, that justice may be done upon him."

"Wait, isn't that from Lord of the Rings? We can't use that," I shouted to him from my spot next to O'Brien/O'Brian/O'Bryan.

"Yeah we can, it was only the extended edition, so I don't think it's technically copyrighted."

"I'm pretty sure Aragorn says that in the Theatrical cut."

"Nope, he says if before the Mouth of Sauron appears, and that scene is definitely only in the extended editions. I know because my grandma only has the regular editions, so I watch them when I go and feed her cats, and the Mouth of Sauron isn't in them."

"No, no, you're right about the Mouth of Sauron, but Aragorn totally still says that in the Theatrical cut. They just cut out the Mouth of Sauron and go straight to the Battle of the Black Gate."

"Look, I can settle this for you guys right now," interjected O'Bryan. "I'll pull the scene up on youtube right now."

We all stood around while he fiddled with his phone for a minute or so.

"Shit. The WiFi down here is password protected. Anyone happen to know the log-in info?" O'Bryan asked.

"Do any of us know Hell's WiFi password? No. I am going to go with 'no' on that one," I responded.

"Hold-up. I think it is 'fluttershyrocks'" said The Devil.

"Thanks man," said O'Bryan, "let me get this loaded u-OH MAN, OH GEEZ OH MAN, OH GEEZ, GUYS, IT'S THE DEVIL!"

And it was. 

The Devil looked super spooks; we were all pretty freaked out when we saw him. O'Brian and O'Brien ran off, but O'Bryan was still trying to load the Youtube video and didn't want to loose his signal. I was very thankful that I had had the foresight to wear adult diapers on this journey, because I lost control of about 60% of my bodily functions. Mainly the gross ones. Rory handled it better than the rest of us, managing to contain his reaction to a series of terror-pukes.

The Devil was actually pretty considerate, and caught up on some paperwork while waiting for us to regain control of ourselves. The paperwork was mainly W-2's for the Hell's massive workforce. 

After a while, Rory, O'Bryan and I had recovered enough to confront The Devil. 

"Satan," began Rory, "Many years ago..."

Rory stopped as the Devil held up a finger, imploring him to wait a moment. He was right in the middle of completing his Quarterly Performance Review of Azazel, Dark Master of Lies Told To You By Customer Service Representatives.

"There," said the Devil, setting down his pen, "all finished up. Guess who didn't hit their productivity goal for the quarter." He chuckled softly to himself while slowly shaking his head. 

Rory cleared his throat nervously.

"Oh yes," said the Devil, "terribly sorry for cutting you off like that, I just hate to lose my train of thought when filling those out. Please, continue."

"Satan," Rory started once more, "many years ago, you took something from me, and I have felt its absence every moment of my life. When I traded it to you for the ability to always guess the correct number of jellybeans in a jar, I thought I wouldn't even miss it. I was wrong. It has left a hole deep inside me, that no number of prizes from guessing the number of jelly beans in a jar can fill."

"Oh Rory," I murmured, "you sold the Devil your soul for that?"

"No." answered the Devil. "He gave me something much more valuable. I have many souls, but until Rory came along, I didn't have a 1st Edition Holographic Charizard card." The Devil smiled as he pulled the card from his pocket. It was in pristine condition, preserved in one of those plastic card holders. The flames of hell reflected off the shiny part of the card, and made it look way bitchin'. 

The sight of it brought tears to Rory's eyes. "I want it back you son of a bitch," he choked, the words catching in his throat. 

The Devil eyed the Golden Fiddle in Rory's hands. "Ah, you know the wager I see. If you truly think you can beat me, then let the games begin."

The Devil stood, and turned away from us. He lifted one of his clawed hands, and clenched it into a fist. The air around him began to crackle with energy. In front of him, the ground split, and a stage began to rise up from the earth. 

Suddenly, Rory dashed forward and swung the Golden Fiddle directly into the Devil's head. 

"SHIT" the Devil cried out, as he stumbled forward and fell to the ground. 

Rory grabbed the Charizard card from his hand as the Devil struggled to get up. "Run!" Rory yelled as he began to sprint off the way we came. O'Bryan and I exchanged a confused look before taking off after him. As we ran off, I looked back over my shoulder. The Devil looked super pissed, but wasn't following us. Probably because of the gaping head wound.

Once the Devil was out of sight, we stopped to catch our breaths. 

"What the hell was that?" I asked Rory. "I though the plan was to challenge him to a musical duel."

"Are you insane? You wanted me to try and outplay the Devil with a golden fiddle? That would have sounded like shit. There is no way in Hell I would have won that contest, and in case you weren't paying attention, Hell is exactly where we were" Rory shot back. "Look. We have the card, and that is really all that matters."

"Is it though? Won't the Devil come after us?"

"Nah." 

  

Minutes! Get Your Minutes Here!

The power of today's modern technology has allowed us to perfectly recreate a two hour meeting in a video under four minutes long.

Part 10 - The Fiddle

O’Bryan’s Music Emporium was certainly impressive. Guitars, fiddles and mandolins lined the walls, and expensive drum kits and keyboards filled the floors. O’Brian and O’Brien were childhood friends of O’Bryan, and had recommended the place, a quaint little shop in a suburb of Atlanta.

Rory pulled a Gibson off the wall and began to strum a few notes of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ before receiving a dirty look from O’Bryan. Rory then turned his attention to me, still holding the expensive guitar.

“So no hard feelings, right” he said, picking the guitar quietly.

“None,” I muttered. In reality, I still felt more lost and angry than after the first time I saw Donny Darko.

Rory must have sensed my confusion. “It’s simple,” he said flatly, putting the guitar back up on the wall. “In order to not be bound by the constraints of humanity, I first had to be killed. Regrettably, I had to pretend to be a member of the Sweeney family to trick you into doing it. Otherwise, would you have?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. You would have never killed me willingly. I am, after all, The Benefactor, The Lord of the Earth, He Who Laid the Foundation of the Universe, He Who Vanquishes Evil But Also Vanquishes Good If He Wants To, He Who Can Slow Roast A Rotisserie Chicken In Under Four Minutes, He Who Is Really Good At Bowling Left Handed, He Who Recently Adopted A Stray Cat Named-“

“Okay,” I interrupted. “I get it.”

It was certainly true that Rory had become very powerful ever since being freed from the chest. On one occasion, he had assumed the form of the beast with one hundred arms and twenty mouths so that he could win a hot-dog eating contest handily.

“Why exactly was it necessary for you to become not of this world?” I enquired, watching as Rory picked up an expensive fiddle from the wall. Elsewhere, O’Brian, O’Brien and O’Bryan were arguing over the proper way to play ‘Philadelphia Freedom’ on keyboard.

“There is somewhere that I need to go. Somewhere mortals cannot go whilst they are still alive.” He strummed a few more notes on the fiddle. The music was strangely soothing.

Clearly attuned to the sound of Rory’s fiddle playing, O’Bryan walked over. “That’s one of our finest models,” he said, shrewdly trying to make a sale.

“It certainly is nice,” replied Rory, “but I’m going to need something a little nicer.”

He eyed O’Bryan. “Money is no object.”

O’Bryan then preceded to lead myself, Rory, and the others to the back of the store. A nondescript, wooden door was situated behind a large drum set, almost impossible to see from the front of the store. Behind the door was revealed not a room cluttered with instruments, or some kind of stock room, but simply an empty room save for one fiddle sitting on a pedestal in the center of the space. The instrument was made entirely of gold, and was truly a beautiful piece to behold.

Rory picked up the fiddle, examining it. It was covered in runes, but then again, so was pretty much every other object I’d been dealing with lately. Goddamn runes, I thought. Why wasn’t I taught those in kindergarten?

Rory then began to lead us in a masterful, foot-stomping rendition of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’. I found myself square dancing with O’Brian/Brien/Bryan, the latter of which quickly proving himself to be an accomplished dancer. The sweet melodies pouring from the fiddle were truly ethereal, and I found myself wishing that the music would never stop. When it finally did, Rory took me aside.

“The devil has something that belongs to me, Abdul-Mannan,” he whispered. “I will use this golden fiddle to get it back.”

I chose my next words carefully. “Huh?”

“I will use my newfound immortality to go to the devil in Hell, and challenge him to see who can play the better version of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’. If I am victorious, he will give me back what he took from me many years ago.”

“Well then,” I said, putting on a pair of sunglasses, “It looks like you’re gonna have to play the hell out of that fiddle.”

Part 9 - The Awakening

I stood as O'Brian's car pulled up to the Sweeney estate, carefully holding the chest at my side. O'Brian and another man cautiously exited the car, both heavily armed. O'Brian was wielding a huge double bladed axe called Fraathryngr, which was as tall as he was and had electric eels attached to it so that he could say things like "shocking, isn't it?" when he hit people with it. The other man had a whip in each hand. The right whip was made entirely of snake fangs, dripping with poisonous ichor, while the one in his left hand was made of glass shards and barbed wire. I instantly recognized them as the fabled pair of whips know as "Cymon" and "Gaarfonkle" which were forged at the dawn of time by the ancient order to which I belonged. How he had obtained them would likely remain a mystery, since I had left them in the possession of the leader of my order, an ancient and powerful figure known only as 'The Master.'

"Abdul-Mannan, this is O'Brien," said O'Brian. "You like our weapons?" He asked, noticing my stare. "We killed this old guy who called himself 'The Master' on the way here. Can you believe he was just carrying these around? These things are awesome!" He enthusiastically cut down a small sapling to demonstrate his excitement.

The news of The Master's death shook me, but there would be time for grief later. Now I had to fulfill the purpose for which I had been trained from birth. It was time to wake He Who Ruled Before And Will Reign After. The Chest was finally to be opened.

"It is good you are here," I said to O'Brian. "It is time for the chest to be opened. I trust you have brought the pendant?"

O'Brian nodded and pulled the black stone from his pocket, its surface glimmering in the moonlight.

"Good. Guard the chest, I must get the materials from my vehicle to break the seal."

O'Brian and O'Brien exchanged a quizzical glance, but assumed their guard duties faithfully. In a matter of minutes I returned to them carrying the ancient book that would free He Who Was Named In A Thousand Tongues And Speaks With The Voice Of One Million. The Benefactor's names were many indeed.

O'Brian and O'Brien looked questioningly at the book as I opened it.

"This," I explained "Is the ancient text of our order. The instructions which will free The God Who Slumbers. It is for obvious reasons called 'The Book of Babyfaces,' mainly due to the materials used in its production."

O'Brien vomited as I said this, and O'Brian turned sharply towards me and sputtered, "Bu- but you don't mean... You're saying that that book is made out of-"

"Yes" I responded, not waiting for him to finish. "The book is made out of 100% pure recycled cardboard." I could tell they had more questions, but time was of the essence. "Steel yourselves," I instructed the men, "I will now begin chant that shall ensure the emancipation of He Who Was The Abomination of The Desolation of The Founders."

I then opened The Book of Babyfaces and began to read the ancient chant which was passed down since the founding of the world. At the top of my lungs I bellowed, "HIGH ON A HILL WAS A LONELY GOATHERD"

From inside the chest came the response. "LAY-EE ODL-LAY-EE ODL-LAY HEE-HOO"

O'Brian and O'Brien clasped their hands to their ears, for the piercing sound of that terrible noise seemed to twist men's minds and shred their sanity. For a moment I feared to go on, afraid of what the next chant would bring. O'Brian screamed for me to stop, but I was honed all my life for this one task; I would not fail in it. I clenched my fists and continued, "LOUD WAS THE VOICE OF THE LONELY GOATHERD"

Again a response rang out from the chest "LAY-EE ODL-LAY-EE ODL-OO" The ground itself bucked and twisted in response.

I could feel blood pouring from my ears and eyes, but still I continued, "FOLKS IN A TOWN THAT WAS QUITE REMOTE HEARD"

"LAY-EE ODL-LAY-EE ODL-LAY HEE-HOO" The Sweeney mansion buckled and crumbled. The earth around us erupted into great pillars of flame.

My eyesight was gone but the next words were burned into my brain. "LUSTY AND CLEAR FROM THE GOATHERD'S THROAT HEARD"

"LAY-EE ODL-LAY-EE ODL-OO" The final response rang out and my vision returned. The ground round the chest was blackened and a great light flashed out as the lock was sundered. The chest swung open and a beam of light shot straight into the sky. The light twisted and folded back onto itself, forming a circle in midair. It's surface undulated and began expanding, pusing itself into three dimensions. Now a perfect sphere hovered above the chest, shining in the growing darkness. Again the surface shifted and the sphere grew into something more, something the human mind was not meant to understand, like magnets or Bieber Fever. From inside the new shape something began to grow. I watched as a tiny dark spot pushed itself into our dimension, growing into something terrible to behold. The light grew brighter and brighter as the darkness within it grew. Before the final flash blinded me I saw the thing inside take shape. It was a beast not of this world. It stood on three legs and had a hundred arms. Its four heads were ringed in flame and each bore seven eyes and five mouths. It looked like the kind of thing that eats dreams and shits nightmares. It looked like it would cut across a four lane highway with no turn signal. It looked like it preferred dark chocolate to milk chocolate, like it liked 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' more than the clearly superior 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." It looked evil as hell is what I'm trying to say. And as it looked upon us it laughed, and in that laugh I heard the beast's purpose. I heard the end of mankind.

There was a final flash, and when I looked back the beast was gone, but what had taken its place was even more unbelievable. Standing there in the smoldering pit was Rory. He looked at me and laughed. "Such a faithful servant," he said. "I couldn't have done any better myself. No, really. I couldn't have. How was I supposed to free myself from the chest when I was already out of it? Can't have two Destroyers running around, that would just be silly. No, you killed me and opened the chest so that I could be free of my ties to this world. Now I shall take what is rightfully mine."

Part 8 - The Fight

The world before me was illuminated with a brilliant light, a light emanating solely from the chest cradled in Gibbs’ rubber hands. The goggles were allowing me to see its contents, and it was all as beautiful as it was mysterious. The Benefactor was right, I thought to myself. He is inside the chest. I couldn’t fully explain what I was seeing, but I knew that I was seeing it with perfect clarity.

As my gaze turned to Gibbs and the boy, I realized that the goggles’ majestic power didn’t end with the chest, and I found myself completely unprepared for what I witnessed next. Gibbs is a machine. Through the goggles, I unblinkingly stared into the core of a massive, intricate robot, a robot that I had previously considered a human being. Instead of muscle and tissue, I saw only wires and hard drives. Instead of a brain or a heart, I saw only servers and processors, whirring and blinking under Gibbs’ synthetic human flesh. The entire spectacle was disgusting, and I then became acutely aware of the source of Gibbs’ unnatural strength and cunning. Who had built him, and for what purpose?

My gaze turned next to the boy Sweeney. The goggles revealed not an awesome machine, or some divine light, but simply a tummy filled with macaroni and hot pockets. I became filled with rage as I wondered why the boy’s palate wasn’t more mature. Just like his filthy uncle Rory, I thought.

Gibbs’ discomfort with my penetrating stare had reached its zenith, and in an instant, he made his move. He handed the chest to Sweeney, entrusting him to begin flying the helicopter. Gibbs’ charge seemed sluggish, and I realized that wearing his goggles had put me on an equal plane. I am prepared to fight you now.

“I calculate that you have only a 16 percent chance of beating me,” Gibbs shrieked.

A giant pair of mechanical wings grew out of his back. Like a giant, goggled hawk, he leapt into the air and circled the Sweeney property a few times. I dug my feet into the dirt, preparing for the inevitable aerial attack. How does he digest his food, I found myself wondering. Can robots love? These were questions for another time. Gibbs swooped down at me with incredible speed, even through the goggles. I caught a piece of his wing in my hand, and I used the unexpected leverage to drive him into the earth.

I pinned him down. I could see the light of a computer monitor beneath his wetsuit. I had been away from my own personal computer for a while, and would use this opportunity to check my Facebook. I peeled back the rubber wetsuit, unmasking his true nature. I had many friend requests to accept, and Gibbs was forced to struggle beneath my newfound power.

I was nearing the fast money round of an online Family Feud game when Gibbs escaped my hold, spiraling back into the night sky. Proving himself inept at piloting aircraft, Sweeney unsurprisingly collided with the robot midair, and both fell to the earth under a mess of destroyed helicopter, flames and smoke.

I sprinted over to the smoldering rubble, causally tossing Sweeney’s limp body aside so that I could grab what rightfully belonged to The Benefactor. The chest felt warm to the touch, and I cherished the fact that I would be the one to deliver it. My birth name, Abdul-Mannan, meant ‘Servant of the Benefactor’. Tonight, I would do honor to my name. I would fulfill my purpose, my entire reason for being.

Across the yard, Gibbs was floating face down in the pool of a fountain, the water shorting his many circuits. He won’t be a problem any longer, I thought. It was time to deliver the chest.

Part 7 - The Bar

That same evening, O'Brian was pulling up to a bar far outside the city limits for his meeting with The Benefactor. The flashing neon sign announced "O'Brien's Food and Spirits" to the surrounding wastes. O'Brian got out of the car and steeled himself for the upcoming meeting. His hand instinctual went to the pendant, its cool weight reassuring him.

O'Brian pushed the doors open and walked int O'Brien's. As much as O'Brian liked O'Brien, he couldn't stand his bar. It wasn't the location or the decor that put him off so much as it was the clientele. O'Brien had been failed pretty spectacularly by the education system, and had reached adulthood with a very basic misunderstanding of the various ways the term 'Spirits' could be used. As such, O'Brien's bar was sort of a mystic watering hole. There was a werewolf sipping whiskey at the bar while a Poltergeist with a glass of Port was chatting up a Banshee drinking a bottle of Blue Moon near the pool table. A very drunk demon was at the karaoke machine, belting out a version of "Tiny Dancer" in an eldritch tongue.

O'Brian walked up to the bar and asked the bartender where he could find O'Brien. The vampire bartender finished straining a cocktail for the impatient looking cockatrice clucking in his direction and pointed O'Brian towards the office in the back. O'Brian walked over to O'Brien's office and walked in.

"O'Brian?" asked O'Brien, looking up from his books.

"Hey O'Brien," responded O'Brian, "It's been a long time."

O'Brien stood up and gave O'Brian a hearty hug. The two men had been fast friends ever since O'Brian had helped O'Brien out of a jam in Burma. Ever since then O'Brian had helped O'Brien finance O'Brien's and in return O'Brien maintained an open conduit to The Benefactor for O'Brian.

"I need to speak with Him" said O'Brian

"This soon?" asked O'Brien. "You were in here only a few months ago."

"I know O'Brien," said O'Brian, "but something's come up that He needs to hear about."

O'Brien nodded, and wordlessly moved to the bookshelf in the back of his office. Pushing it out of the way, he revealed the stone door hidden behind it. Rough hewn of an onyx like stone, it lacked any discernible features, save the round indentation at its center. O'Brien stepped to the side, allowing O'Brian to come forward. O'Brian took the pendant from his pocket and fit it in the indentation. It fit in with a strangely loud 'SNAP' and the world shifted.

O'Brian was no longer in O'Brien's office. He was standing in an empty, white expanse that seemed to stretch forever in every direction. From behind him he heard a voice roll out from the expanse.

"Ah, O'Brian. I have been expecting you. Sit."

O'Brian turned and where there was nothing a moment before, there was suddenly something. Two leather armchairs sat in the expanse, one occupied and one empty. O'Brian sat in the vacant chair and looked at The Benefactor. He had appeared in many forms to O'Brian over the years, but today He was wearing his most common shape; that of a tall man in a white suit whose face was covered by a mask, gold on the left and silver on the right. That was unsurprising; O'Brien had never seen His face no matter what form He had taken.

O'Brian began to speak, but was cut off by The Benefactor. "I know why you are here, and I know that you have many questions. Don't bother asking them because we are very nearly out of time. You must get Me the chest." O'Brian moved to speak again, but The Benefactor continued. "I've already told you, there is no time for questions. The chest is even now beginning to slip from your grasp. I know you though. You will not leave Me without some answers. You wish to know what is in the chest, why it is so important to me. The answer is quite simple: I am."