One of the finest stories about American life written and presented not as a criticism but a commentary. Fitzgerald gives us an account of decadence, revenge, love, and the unfulfilled American promise in this witty account of a young man's summer with his cousin. While this book has been doubtlessly beaten to death by many an English teacher before me looking to find one possible symbol her compatriots might have chanced to overlook (fat chance!) what annoys me is that the main thesis is often ignored in many classes. Fitzgerald's commentary on American is not that we aren't a great nation, nor that we are a weak nation. To the contrary he commends us as one of the greatest nations, inhabited by possible gods. However these gods have fallen into decadence appreciated only by the finest Roman Mythologies. These American Gods (see, see what I did there?) are lazy, selfish and vain. They are guided by a heathen existence of lax morals, emotional despondency and left culturally bankrupt. They are easily compared to the culture of 1950s America. The culture that came back from fighting a horrible yet necessary war and quickly decided to stick its head in the sand when faced with change. Please do yourself the favor and READ THIS BOOK!