I have always had this theory that certain book characters have to die– that the narrative relies so heavily upon them and they are so integral to the story that an author can not release them to the reader’s imagination.
To me, Gatsby fits this category, if not forms it entirely. The namesake of the novel, Gatsby is what guides the plot forward, first with the suspense of the mysterious man next door and then with his pursuit for love. He draws us in with his grand displays of wealth, blind idealism, and cinematic backstory. As readers, we can not help but want more and find ourselves disappointed when we are denied it.
By the novel’s end, Gatsby is dead and, though I might feel a certain sadness at his death, there is no other end that I can conceptualize. Jay Gatsby is a man of mystery, but of mystery that is held tightly in check by Fitzgerald. As a reader it is hard to imagine Gatsby beyond the confines of the book. Gatsby isn’t the type of character you can see going on with his life, settling down, and growing old. He has no purpose other than being exactly what he is and where he is. He has done what he was made to do, and he can do nothing more. And so he has to die.
I do not believe that this is what compelled Fitzgerald to give Gatsby the end that he did. I can not pretend to know what was going on in his writer’s brain– perhaps he was at a loss and chose the easy way out or perhaps he wanted to emulate Wharton’s The House of Mirth with its tragic ending. We will never know exactly why Fitzgerald killed Gatsby, but I will say that to me, both a reader and a writer, it seems the only ending that makes sense because without Fitzgerald, Gatsby can not go on.