The Great Gatsby was just a better fake. His Gothic library didn’t have cardboard facades of books, but the books themselves. Yet all the pages were uncut and unread.
We try to talk smart or act pious. We create salons and recite poetry and collect art. But we really are just snake-handlin’ “bumpkins” making God over into our own image.
It’s going to stop very soon. The Gatsby’s great-grandchildren have cut the pages and are reading those books. And the illusion can’t last. The chaff will blow away. The goats will be separated from the sheep.