A world of misguided ambition.

I'm reading "The Great Gatsby" for what's probably the third or fourth time. To me, Gatsby is the perfect novel. It goes down easy, with it's soft veneer, but beneath the surface lies a world of misguided ambition and rampant wantonness.

That world is America.

I recently watched a documentary on Hunter S. Thompson, also one of my favorite writers. It said Thompson, early in his career, used to type out Gatsby, listening to the music of Fitzgerald's prose. I revisit the novel each summer for the same reason.

While reading Gatsby, I've been listening to Thompson's audio notes, "The Gonzo Tapes," driving to and from work. Thompson understood Fitzgerald. He knew the American dream was warped right from the beginning, but beneath dream itself lurked a rebel instinct that couldn't be extinguished -- even after Vietnam, Watergate and George W. Bush.

Thompson understood that a true patriot lives courageously and speaks boldly. And Gatsby was the first hint at the unseemly side of the dream. I like to think maybe I'm picking up where they left off.