Daisy by Katie Cotugno is a psychological thriller that reimagines F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby in contemporary America, picking up two years after Jay Gatsby’s death. Daisy Buchanan is still married to Tom, still surrounded by extraordinary wealth, and still grieving the man she loved. But when her best friend, Jordan Baker, is found murdered in a swimming pool, the circumstances bear an unsettling resemblance to Gatsby’s death. With so many tragedies already connected to Daisy, the police investigation brings renewed scrutiny to her life and the secrets surrounding it. As questions about Jordan’s murder mount, Daisy begins to realize that someone may be watching her, and that the past she thought she had left behind is far from finished.
The magic trick of Daisy is that everyone thinks they’re her best and most beloved. Everyone thinks they know her inside and out.
Katie Cotugno, Daisy
I was immediately drawn to this novel because I love reimaginings of classic literature, and The Great Gatsby has a particularly special place in my heart. Fun fact: it was the first book I actually read for an English class instead of relying on SparkNotes to get me through the test! I wasn’t exactly a stellar English student back then (even funnier now, considering I have a Ph.D. in English literature). But something about Fitzgerald’s novel clicked for me. I scored a 100% on the test, answered every bonus question correctly, and ended up being the curve buster for the entire class. I still remember how proud I felt because, for the first time, I had concrete proof that I could actually be good at literary analysis. It’s a core memory, and I think I’ll always have a soft spot for The Great Gatsby because of it.
Anyway, one of the things I appreciated most about Cotugno’s reimagining is how naturally Fitzgerald’s world translates into a contemporary setting. The extravagant parties, carefully curated social lives, performative marriages, and casual entitlement of the extraordinarily wealthy feel remarkably familiar. There’s something almost reality-TV-esque about this version of East Egg, where appearances are everything and scandal is both a threat to social standing and a form of entertainment. Fitzgerald’s Jazz Age excess becomes a world of conspicuous consumption, manufactured glamour, and carefully maintained public personas. I thought this was a particularly smart creative decision because it demonstrates how little the underlying dynamics of wealth and privilege have changed, even as the cultural markers of status have evolved. The original novel’s critique of a society in which money insulates people from the consequences of their actions feels just as relevant a century later.
What I found even more interesting, though, was how shifting the narrative perspective changes our relationship with these familiar characters. In The Great Gatsby, Daisy exists primarily through Nick Carraway’s narration, filtered through his observations, assumptions, and judgments. We know what Nick thinks of Daisy, what Gatsby believes she represents, and what Tom expects of her, but we have comparatively little access to her own understanding of her life. By placing Daisy at the center of this narrative, Cotugno gives her an opportunity to define herself rather than remain an object of other people’s fascination. That shift becomes particularly compelling in a psychological thriller concerned with surveillance, obsession, and possession. There’s a meaningful connection between the power to tell someone’s story and the belief that you have the right to determine how that story unfolds. The novel explores how easily fascination can become a form of control, particularly when a woman’s desires and autonomy are treated as secondary to the narratives others have constructed around her. I enjoyed how Cotugno uses the conventions of the thriller to reconsider these dynamics within Fitzgerald’s original story rather than simply transplanting its characters into a new genre.
It’s too late for him, she knows, for what they might have had together. But maybe it isn’t too late for her to have a life of her own.
Katie Cotugno, Daisy
I also loved the way Cotugno establishes suspense from the very beginning. The prologue introduces what appears to be someone obsessively watching Daisy, immediately creating the sense that she’s in danger before we even understand what that danger might be. It changes how you approach the rest of the story. Every interaction becomes potentially suspicious, and even familiar characters take on a more unsettling quality. I especially enjoyed how the novel uses our existing knowledge of Fitzgerald’s characters to complicate our expectations. The central mystery itself was somewhat predictable, and I had my suspicions about the person responsible fairly early. But I didn’t find that particularly disappointing because the novel’s appeal extends beyond the question of who committed the murder. The more interesting questions, for me, concerned the motivations behind the violence and what they revealed about the characters’ relationships with Daisy.
And can we talk about that epilogue?! Without spoiling anything, I absolutely loved it. There’s something especially satisfying about a retelling that not only invites us to reconsider familiar characters but also allows us to imagine possibilities that the original story denied them. Fitzgerald’s novel is, in many ways, a tragedy of longing, idealization, and the impossibility of recovering the past. Cotugno’s ending offers a tantalizing alternative to that inevitability, and I am completely on board! I love that it leaves just enough to the imagination while offering the possibility of something I’d always wanted for these characters. It was such a delightful final surprise, and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end this reimagining.
Overall, I had so much fun with Daisy! I loved recognizing the connections to Fitzgerald’s novel, but I also think Cotugno provides enough context for readers unfamiliar with The Great Gatsby to enjoy the mystery on its own. More importantly, I appreciated that this retelling does something interesting with the source material rather than simply recreating its most recognizable moments. By reconsidering who gets to tell the story, whose perspective we trust, and whose desires ultimately matter, Cotugno offers a fresh way to think about characters I’ve known for years. And for someone who has loved The Great Gatsby since that very memorable high school English class, revisiting East Egg from an entirely different perspective was an absolute treat.
Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
