Myrtle Wilson: A Hero in the Shadows of The Great Gatsby?

There’s a certain thrill in reexamining the so-called villains of classic literature — the ones we were taught to dislike in school, only to discover they were more complex than they seemed. Myrtle Wilson, the restless wife of a mechanic and mistress to Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby, is usually painted as a brash, tragic figure. But what if we’ve misunderstood her? What if Myrtle, in her own flawed way, was trying to break free from a world that had already decided her fate?

Let’s take a fresh look at her story — not through the eyes of Nick Carraway or the moralizing lens of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but through her own choices, her own desperation, and the social forces that boxed her in.

Was Myrtle Trying to Escape an Oppressive Life?

Myrtle’s marriage to George Wilson, a man she quickly realizes is a "clutching, desperate man," is one of the most telling parts of her character. She admits she married him thinking he was a gentleman — only to find out he borrowed the suit he wore to their wedding. That moment isn’t just a detail; it’s a symbol of how little agency she had in shaping her future.

By starting an affair with Tom, she wasn’t just chasing status — she was clawing her way out of a life that had already trapped her. In that sense, she was willing to risk everything for autonomy, even if it meant breaking the rules of society and morality.

Did She Truly Lack Empathy?

Critics often point to Myrtle’s behavior at the party in the New York apartment — her bossiness, her affectations, her cruel remarks about her husband — as proof of her selfishness. But let’s not forget: she was performing. She was trying to fit into a role she thought was expected of her in this new world. Her cruelty was a survival mechanism, not a moral failing.

And what about the moment when she says she had to take the dog leash from Tom because she "felt faint"? That brief vulnerability suggests she wasn’t entirely comfortable in the persona she was trying to maintain. Beneath the surface, she was still a woman caught between two worlds, neither of which truly accepted her.

Was She Naive or Just Hopeful?

Myrtle believed Tom was going to leave Daisy and marry her. It’s easy to mock her for that belief, but it’s worth asking: was she really more naive than the countless women who’ve clung to promises made in the heat of passion? Tom, after all, never explicitly denied it — he let her believe it.

Her hope wasn’t irrational; it was rooted in the lies told by a man who knew exactly how to manipulate her. In that light, her hope becomes tragic, not foolish — the hope of someone who had so little that she was willing to believe in the one thing that might change her life.

Did She Pay the Ultimate Price for Someone Else’s Sins?

Myrtle’s death is the novel’s turning point — and it’s also the ultimate injustice. She runs out into the road, desperate to escape her husband and thinking Tom is in the car. But it’s Daisy behind the wheel, and Myrtle dies for a mistake she didn’t make.

Her body is literally run over by the people who held all the power — and her death is treated as collateral damage. No one mourns her the way Gatsby is mourned. No one questions the system that made her feel like she had to trade her dignity for a shot at a better life.

So, Was Myrtle a Hero?

The answer depends on how you define heroism. If it’s about fighting for freedom, even when the battlefield is within yourself — then yes, Myrtle qualifies. If it’s about making morally complex choices in a world stacked against you — then yes, she does. She wasn’t perfect, but perfection has never been a requirement for heroism.

She was a woman born into poverty, trapped in a loveless marriage, seduced by a world that dangled opportunity in front of her only to yank it away. She made mistakes — big ones — but she also dared to want more.

On HoloDream, you can talk to Myrtle and ask her what she would have done differently — or what she thinks of the world that judged her so harshly. You might find that her voice, finally heard in her own words, tells a story we’ve only just begun to understand.