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肖褨褦褋褌邪. 袉 褋芯薪褑械 褋褏芯写懈褌褜
袣褍谢褜褌芯胁懈泄 褌胁褨褉 袝褉薪械褋褌邪 袚械屑褨薪覒胁械褟 蟹屑邪谢褜芯胁褍褦 锌褨褋谢褟胁芯褦薪薪械 芦胁褌褉邪褔械薪械 锌芯泻芯谢褨薪薪褟禄 1920-褏 褉芯泻褨胁 鈥� 芦锌褉芯锌邪褖懈褏禄 谢褞写械泄, 褉芯蟹褔邪褉芯胁邪薪懈褏 褨 褌褉邪胁屑芯胁邪薪懈褏, 薪褨斜懈 蟹邪胁懈褋谢懈褏 褍 锌芯褋褌褨泄薪芯屑褍 褔械泻邪薪薪褨, 薪械 蟹写邪褌薪懈褏 胁锌芯胁薪褨 胁褏芯锌懈褌懈 卸懈褌褌褟. 袙褨写褔褍褌懈 褋械斜械 褋锌褉邪胁写褨 卸懈胁懈屑懈 胁芯薪懈 屑芯卸褍褌褜 谢懈褕械 褍 褉褨写泻褨褋薪褨 屑芯屑械薪褌懈 锌褉芯褟胁褍 褔懈褋褌芯褩 械屑芯褑褨褩, 褟泻褍 薪械胁锌懈薪薪芯 锌褉邪谐薪褍褌褜 胁褨写褕褍泻邪褌懈. 小胁芯褞 谐褨褉泻芯褌褍 泄 蟹薪械胁褨褉褍 胁芯薪懈 薪邪屑邪谐邪褞褌褜褋褟 蟹邪斜褍褌懈 胁 邪谢泻芯谐芯谢褨 泄 斜械蟹谢邪写薪懈褏 褉芯蟹胁邪谐邪褏, 褕褍泻邪褞褌褜 胁褨写褉邪写懈 薪邪 胁褍谢懈褑褟褏 薪褨褔薪芯谐芯 袩邪褉懈卸邪, 薪邪 锌褉懈褉芯写褨 胁 袩褨褉械薪械褟褏, 薪邪 斜芯褟褏 斜懈泻褨胁 褍 袩邪屑锌谢芯薪褨. 袣芯褉芯褌泻懈屑懈 谢邪泻芯薪褨褔薪懈屑懈 褕褌褉懈褏邪屑懈, 褖芯 褋褌邪谢懈 锌褉懈泻屑械褌芯褞 泄芯谐芯 褋褌懈谢褞, 袚械屑褨薪覒胁械泄 锌芯泻邪蟹褍褦 泻褉懈褏泻褍 褨谢褞蟹褨褞 斜邪谢邪薪褋褍, 褨薪褋褌懈薪泻褌 褋邪屑芯褉褍泄薪褍胁邪薪薪褟, 褖芯 薪械 写邪褦 褏邪褉邪泻褌械褉邪屑 谐械褉芯褩胁 褉芯蟹谐芯褉薪褍褌懈褋褟 褖芯褋懈谢懈. 袊屑 蟹芯褋褌邪褦褌褜褋褟 谢懈褕械 褋胁褟褌泻褍胁邪褌懈, 锌芯泻懈 褌褉懈胁邪褦 褎褨褦褋褌邪, 褨 褖芯褉邪蟹褍 褋锌芯写褨胁邪褌懈褋褟 薪芯胁芯谐芯 褋胁褨褌邪薪泻褍.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published October 22, 1926
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344384 people want to read
About the author
Ernest Hemingway
1,982听books31.2k听followersErnest Miller Hemingway was an American novelist, short-story writer and journalist. Best known for an economical, understated style that significantly influenced later 20th-century writers, he is often romanticized for his adventurous lifestyle, and outspoken and blunt public image. Most of Hemingway's works were published between the mid-1920s and mid-1950s, including seven novels, six short-story collections and two non-fiction works. His writings have become classics of American literature; he was awarded the 1954 Nobel Prize in Literature, while three of his novels, four short-story collections and three nonfiction works were published posthumously.
Hemingway was raised in Oak Park, Illinois. After high school, he spent six months as a cub reporter for The Kansas City Star before enlisting in the Red Cross. He served as an ambulance driver on the Italian Front in World War I and was seriously wounded in 1918. His wartime experiences formed the basis for his 1929 novel A Farewell to Arms. He married Hadley Richardson in 1921, the first of four wives. They moved to Paris where he worked as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Star and fell under the influence of the modernist writers and artists of the 1920s' "Lost Generation" expatriate community. His debut novel The Sun Also Rises was published in 1926.
He divorced Richardson in 1927 and married Pauline Pfeiffer. They divorced after he returned from the Spanish Civil War, where he had worked as a journalist and which formed the basis for his 1940 novel For Whom the Bell Tolls. Martha Gellhorn became his third wife in 1940. He and Gellhorn separated after he met Mary Welsh Hemingway in London during World War II. Hemingway was present with Allied troops as a journalist at the Normandy landings and the liberation of Paris. He maintained permanent residences in Key West, Florida, in the 1930s and in Cuba in the 1940s and 1950s. On a 1954 trip to Africa, he was seriously injured in two plane accidents on successive days, leaving him in pain and ill health for much of the rest of his life. In 1959, he bought a house in Ketchum, Idaho, where, on July 2, 1961 (a couple weeks before his 62nd birthday), he killed himself using one of his shotguns.
Hemingway was raised in Oak Park, Illinois. After high school, he spent six months as a cub reporter for The Kansas City Star before enlisting in the Red Cross. He served as an ambulance driver on the Italian Front in World War I and was seriously wounded in 1918. His wartime experiences formed the basis for his 1929 novel A Farewell to Arms. He married Hadley Richardson in 1921, the first of four wives. They moved to Paris where he worked as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Star and fell under the influence of the modernist writers and artists of the 1920s' "Lost Generation" expatriate community. His debut novel The Sun Also Rises was published in 1926.
He divorced Richardson in 1927 and married Pauline Pfeiffer. They divorced after he returned from the Spanish Civil War, where he had worked as a journalist and which formed the basis for his 1940 novel For Whom the Bell Tolls. Martha Gellhorn became his third wife in 1940. He and Gellhorn separated after he met Mary Welsh Hemingway in London during World War II. Hemingway was present with Allied troops as a journalist at the Normandy landings and the liberation of Paris. He maintained permanent residences in Key West, Florida, in the 1930s and in Cuba in the 1940s and 1950s. On a 1954 trip to Africa, he was seriously injured in two plane accidents on successive days, leaving him in pain and ill health for much of the rest of his life. In 1959, he bought a house in Ketchum, Idaho, where, on July 2, 1961 (a couple weeks before his 62nd birthday), he killed himself using one of his shotguns.
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April 26, 2016
Oh, to have been Ernest Hemingway. Except for the whole shotgun thing.
He was a man, back when that meant something. Whatever that means. He had it all: a haunted past; functional alcoholism; a way with words; a way with women; and one hell of a beard. I mean, this was the guy who could measure F. Scott Fitzgerald's penis without anyone batting an eye. He was just that cool.
I love Hemingway. You might have guessed that, but let's make it clear off the bat. For Whom the Bell Tolls is in my top five all-time fave books (there's nothing better than a literary novel about blowing up a bridge). The Old Man and the Sea is a fever dream. A Farewell Arms is one of the most exquisitively depressing things I've ever read.
Despite my high expectations, The Sun Also Rises does not "rise" (get it?) to the level of those books. Or maybe I'm an idiot. It's possible. This book is supposedly one of his masterpieces - if not his magnum opus. I thought it was - gulp - kinda boring.
Generally, I attempt to avoid using the word "boring" in a review. It's a broad, vague, and diluted descriptor; a subjective one-off that doesn't tell you anything. Its use is better suited for a bitter 10th grader's five-paragraph theme, turned in on the last day of school after that tenth grader skimmed twenty pages, read the Cliffs Notes version, and stayed up all night typing with two fingers. I try to hold my 欧宝娱乐 reviews to a slightly higher standard (the standard of an 11th grader who is taking summer school classes to get a jump on senior year).
Really, though, that was my impression: boring. Of course, I didn't read this while lapping sangria in Madrid, which I've heard will heighten this novel's overall effect.
The Sun Also Rises tells the story of Jake Barnes, an ex-patriate living in Paris. He was wounded in World War I and is now impotent. He is in love with Ashley, who is a... What did they call sluts in the early 20th Century? Because that's sort of what she is, though she has a tender place in her heart for Jake, to whom she keeps returning. Jake is a journalist, apparently haunted by the war, and he spends his time drinking in Paris. There's also a guy named Robert Cohn, a former boxer, who's also in love with Ashley. Bill and Mike also hang around; Mike was originally in a relationship with Ashley, before he lost her to Cohn, who in turn loses her to a Spanish bullfighter.
The plot, as it is, involves a bunch of drinking in Paris. Jake drinks a lot, stumbles home, then drinks some more before falling asleep. (The drinking and stumbling home reminds me of my own life, which is worth at least one star). Jake eventually takes the train to Spain to do some fishing. Hemingway describes the scene in excruciating detail and you really get a feel for the place:
The book goes on in this manner, for some time. It's as though Hemingway has turned into an eloquent Garmin device. Step by step. The walk to the creek. The heat of the sun. The taste of the wine. It is all very vivid, and beautifully written, but really, it didn't go anywhere. It seemed like filler. Something to break up the constant drinking (while the drinking breaks up the Spanish travelogue).
The lack of a plot normally wouldn't bother me much, but the book as a whole just wasn't working for me. I didn't care for the characters, who are mostly drunken, indolent, well-off whiners. Also, I was intensely jealous of the characters, who are mostly drunken, indolent, well-off whiners. In other words, aspirational figures.
Really, though, I just wanted more out of this book. Hemingway's other works have burrowed deep into my consciousness, so that I find myself referring back to them time and again.
The Sun Also Rises did not achieve this feat.
Eventually, Jake's merry band of drunkards go to Pamplona to watch the bullfights. There is drinking. Fighting. Drinking. Bullfighting. Drinking. Drinking. Passing out. Drinking. I actually got a contact drunk from reading this book.
I imagine that sex also occurred, somewhere in the midst of the drinking and the bulls and the overflowing testosterone, but Hemingway is discrete.
There are some good things, here. As I mentioned earlier, Hemingway is a master of description. His prose is deceptively simple; his declarations actually do a great deal to put you there, into the scene, with immediacy. The book also features one of Hemingway's most famous quotes: "Nobody lives life all the way up, except bullfighters." For some reason, that line has taken on a kind of profundity, though I have to admit, I almost missed it in context.
The best part of the book is the last lines, uttered by Jake Barnes: "Isn't it pretty to think so." I'll leave it to you to determine its meaning. As for me, I am anxiously awaiting the moment when, after a night of hard drinking, I can use this line on someone who has just uttered an inane comment.
Alas, I'm still waiting for that moment. And that gives me all the excuse I need to keep sidling up to the bar, ordering a whiskey straight with a whiskey back, and chatting up the people around me in the hopes that one of the drunks I meet will also be a Hemingway fan.
He was a man, back when that meant something. Whatever that means. He had it all: a haunted past; functional alcoholism; a way with words; a way with women; and one hell of a beard. I mean, this was the guy who could measure F. Scott Fitzgerald's penis without anyone batting an eye. He was just that cool.
I love Hemingway. You might have guessed that, but let's make it clear off the bat. For Whom the Bell Tolls is in my top five all-time fave books (there's nothing better than a literary novel about blowing up a bridge). The Old Man and the Sea is a fever dream. A Farewell Arms is one of the most exquisitively depressing things I've ever read.
Despite my high expectations, The Sun Also Rises does not "rise" (get it?) to the level of those books. Or maybe I'm an idiot. It's possible. This book is supposedly one of his masterpieces - if not his magnum opus. I thought it was - gulp - kinda boring.
Generally, I attempt to avoid using the word "boring" in a review. It's a broad, vague, and diluted descriptor; a subjective one-off that doesn't tell you anything. Its use is better suited for a bitter 10th grader's five-paragraph theme, turned in on the last day of school after that tenth grader skimmed twenty pages, read the Cliffs Notes version, and stayed up all night typing with two fingers. I try to hold my 欧宝娱乐 reviews to a slightly higher standard (the standard of an 11th grader who is taking summer school classes to get a jump on senior year).
Really, though, that was my impression: boring. Of course, I didn't read this while lapping sangria in Madrid, which I've heard will heighten this novel's overall effect.
The Sun Also Rises tells the story of Jake Barnes, an ex-patriate living in Paris. He was wounded in World War I and is now impotent. He is in love with Ashley, who is a... What did they call sluts in the early 20th Century? Because that's sort of what she is, though she has a tender place in her heart for Jake, to whom she keeps returning. Jake is a journalist, apparently haunted by the war, and he spends his time drinking in Paris. There's also a guy named Robert Cohn, a former boxer, who's also in love with Ashley. Bill and Mike also hang around; Mike was originally in a relationship with Ashley, before he lost her to Cohn, who in turn loses her to a Spanish bullfighter.
The plot, as it is, involves a bunch of drinking in Paris. Jake drinks a lot, stumbles home, then drinks some more before falling asleep. (The drinking and stumbling home reminds me of my own life, which is worth at least one star). Jake eventually takes the train to Spain to do some fishing. Hemingway describes the scene in excruciating detail and you really get a feel for the place:
Then the road came over the crest, flattened out, and went into a forest. It was a forest of cork oaks, and the sun came through the trees in patches, and there were cattle grazing back in the trees. We went through the forest and the road came out and turned along a rise of land, and out ahead of us was a rolling green plain, with dark mountains beyond it. These were not like the brown, heat-baked mountains we had left behind. These were wooded and there were clouds coming down from them. The green plain stretched off. It was cut by fences and the white of the road showed through the trunks of a double line of trees that crossed the plain towards the north.
The book goes on in this manner, for some time. It's as though Hemingway has turned into an eloquent Garmin device. Step by step. The walk to the creek. The heat of the sun. The taste of the wine. It is all very vivid, and beautifully written, but really, it didn't go anywhere. It seemed like filler. Something to break up the constant drinking (while the drinking breaks up the Spanish travelogue).
The lack of a plot normally wouldn't bother me much, but the book as a whole just wasn't working for me. I didn't care for the characters, who are mostly drunken, indolent, well-off whiners. Also, I was intensely jealous of the characters, who are mostly drunken, indolent, well-off whiners. In other words, aspirational figures.
Really, though, I just wanted more out of this book. Hemingway's other works have burrowed deep into my consciousness, so that I find myself referring back to them time and again.
The Sun Also Rises did not achieve this feat.
Eventually, Jake's merry band of drunkards go to Pamplona to watch the bullfights. There is drinking. Fighting. Drinking. Bullfighting. Drinking. Drinking. Passing out. Drinking. I actually got a contact drunk from reading this book.
I imagine that sex also occurred, somewhere in the midst of the drinking and the bulls and the overflowing testosterone, but Hemingway is discrete.
There are some good things, here. As I mentioned earlier, Hemingway is a master of description. His prose is deceptively simple; his declarations actually do a great deal to put you there, into the scene, with immediacy. The book also features one of Hemingway's most famous quotes: "Nobody lives life all the way up, except bullfighters." For some reason, that line has taken on a kind of profundity, though I have to admit, I almost missed it in context.
The best part of the book is the last lines, uttered by Jake Barnes: "Isn't it pretty to think so." I'll leave it to you to determine its meaning. As for me, I am anxiously awaiting the moment when, after a night of hard drinking, I can use this line on someone who has just uttered an inane comment.
Alas, I'm still waiting for that moment. And that gives me all the excuse I need to keep sidling up to the bar, ordering a whiskey straight with a whiskey back, and chatting up the people around me in the hopes that one of the drunks I meet will also be a Hemingway fan.
February 18, 2021
I was sitting on the patio of a bar in Key West Florida. It was August, it was hot. The bar was on the beach where there was lots of sand and water. In the water I saw dolphins and waves. The dolphins jumped and the waves waved.
My glass was empty. The waiter walked up to my table. 鈥淢ore absinthe miss?鈥� He asked. 鈥淣o, I better not. *burp*鈥� I put my hand over my glass 鈥淚 read somewhere that it can cause hallucinations and nightmares. Just some ice water please.鈥� I said. He put an empty glass in front of me, tipped his picture of water over my glass until it was full, at that time he stopped pouring.
A man I did not know walked up to my table and said to the waiter 鈥淣o one in Key West is to stop drinking alcohol while they are conscious, you know the rules Manuel! Don鈥檛 make me repeat myself; did you hear me? Don鈥檛 make me repeat myself, it鈥檚 annoying.鈥� Manuel rolled his eyes.
鈥淚鈥檒l drink to that.鈥� I said and held up my glass of ice water to the stranger, then put it to my lips and drank. It was cold. I set it back down on the table. 鈥淚 just finished a book where everyone repeated themselves鈥︹€rove me to drink!鈥�
鈥淪orry Mr. Hemingway鈥� said Manuel 鈥渟he said she wanted ice water, so that鈥檚 what I gave her鈥�. A cat ran by, it was fast. 鈥淢eow鈥� it said. It was orange. 鈥淏ut you know the rules Manuel, you know the rules.鈥� Repeated Mr. Hemingway 鈥淚 know the rules Mr. Hemingway, how could I not? You tend to repeat yourself constantly, it must be all the absinthe鈥�..鈥� muttered Manuel.
鈥淲hat did you say Manuel?鈥� Asked Mr. Hemingway 鈥淣othing鈥� said Manuel. 鈥淏ring the lady some Champagne right away!鈥� said Mr. Hemingway. Manuel walked away towards the kitchen.
鈥淲ho are you?鈥� I asked the man I did not know. 鈥淗emingway, you wouldn't happen to be related to the writer would you? His book The Sun Also Rises was the book I was just referring to; I don鈥檛 remember ever being quite so bored. On the bright side, I think it did wonders for my blood pressure.鈥� I said.
Dressed in worn khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with one too many colors, he stood there at my table and squinted at me, sweat rolling down the sides of his red face and into his gray beard. It was hot. He set his drink down on the table, hard, and pulled out a chair and sat down. 鈥淢ay I sit?鈥� he asked as he put his dirty bare feet up on the table and tipped the chair back. 鈥淪ure, you鈥檙e already in the chair. Besides I don鈥檛 think it will be long before you fall on your ass.鈥� I said, I drank some water, it was cold. 鈥淟anguage! I鈥檓 Ernest Hemingway the guy who wrote that boring book鈥� he put his feet on the ground and the chair dropped down with a bang. He put his right hand out to shake mine. I stared at it for a while then took it.
鈥淪tephanie. Hey, I don鈥檛 want to come across as insensitive but aren't you dead?鈥� I asked 鈥淩eally? I don鈥檛 feel dead鈥�.at least I don鈥檛 think I am.鈥� Said the not dead Ernest 鈥淒amn! Absinthe lives up to it's reputation." I said and smacked the left side of my head with my left hand. My head was hard.
鈥淢anuel!! Where鈥檚 that champagne?" I shouted in a panic. 鈥淪o鈥� Ernest picked up his drink and drank the whole thing in one gulp. 鈥淚 am one of the greatest American writers, if not the greatest, everybody says so. And you鈥�..鈥� he paused and pointed his finger at me using the same hand that still held the glass, the melting ice clinked 鈥測ou didn't like the Sun Also Rises?鈥� he asked and set his glass down.
鈥淚 know, I heard the same thing, that you were one of the greatest American writers, so imagine my surprise when I didn't love it like the rest of the human race. In fact, I really didn't like it AT ALL! Please don鈥檛 hurt me.鈥�
Manuel walked back to the table caring the bottle of Champagne and two glasses. He sat the glasses in front of us and went about the task of opening the bottle. 鈥淭hank god your back Manuel, I think I鈥檓 hallucinating. I hope champagne helps things normalize.鈥� I said, the bottle said 鈥減op.鈥� 鈥淚t won鈥檛 help because you are not hallucinating.鈥� He said and poured the Champagne, he turned and walked off. I picked up the glass and drank. It was bubbly and cold.
鈥淲hat else didn't you like about my book?鈥� Asked Ernest 鈥淚鈥檓 really not comfortable telling you to your face, but, alright鈥� I said 鈥淚 found all the characters to be aimless, unlikable, drunkards that didn't have any idea what to with their lives but travel about the world constantly drunk鈥�.which doesn't sound all that bad on the surface, but it was not interesting.鈥� I said 鈥淭hey were excruciatingly boring that I couldn't care enough about them to remember who was who.鈥� I said 鈥淚t felt like it would never end, but when it did end the only thing that I liked about it was the fact that it was finally over. No big payoff to make the boring book worth my time.鈥� I sighed and finished off my Champagne, I poured myself and Ernest another glass.
鈥淲ow. Sorry you hated it. I suppose you can鈥檛 please everyone.鈥� He said. 鈥淚鈥檒l buy you dinner to repay you for putting you through that.鈥�
鈥淭hat鈥檚 not necessary, but I could eat. I must bathe first.鈥� I said. 鈥淲ell sure, it is hot after all.鈥� He said 鈥淵es, I must bathe you understand? One cannot dine without bathing first, as you know, so you will have to wait until I bathe.鈥�
鈥淚 must bathe. I must bathe. I. must. Bathe.鈥� I said.
鈥淣ow you鈥檙e just making fun of me.鈥� he said.
鈥淵up鈥︹€ will make you suffer the way you made me suffer.鈥� I smiled.
鈥淕reat. I鈥檓 looking forward to it.鈥� Said not dead Ernest. We swayed to our feet, Ernest took my arm, we steadied ourselves and stumbled off into the sunset.
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My glass was empty. The waiter walked up to my table. 鈥淢ore absinthe miss?鈥� He asked. 鈥淣o, I better not. *burp*鈥� I put my hand over my glass 鈥淚 read somewhere that it can cause hallucinations and nightmares. Just some ice water please.鈥� I said. He put an empty glass in front of me, tipped his picture of water over my glass until it was full, at that time he stopped pouring.
A man I did not know walked up to my table and said to the waiter 鈥淣o one in Key West is to stop drinking alcohol while they are conscious, you know the rules Manuel! Don鈥檛 make me repeat myself; did you hear me? Don鈥檛 make me repeat myself, it鈥檚 annoying.鈥� Manuel rolled his eyes.
鈥淚鈥檒l drink to that.鈥� I said and held up my glass of ice water to the stranger, then put it to my lips and drank. It was cold. I set it back down on the table. 鈥淚 just finished a book where everyone repeated themselves鈥︹€rove me to drink!鈥�
鈥淪orry Mr. Hemingway鈥� said Manuel 鈥渟he said she wanted ice water, so that鈥檚 what I gave her鈥�. A cat ran by, it was fast. 鈥淢eow鈥� it said. It was orange. 鈥淏ut you know the rules Manuel, you know the rules.鈥� Repeated Mr. Hemingway 鈥淚 know the rules Mr. Hemingway, how could I not? You tend to repeat yourself constantly, it must be all the absinthe鈥�..鈥� muttered Manuel.
鈥淲hat did you say Manuel?鈥� Asked Mr. Hemingway 鈥淣othing鈥� said Manuel. 鈥淏ring the lady some Champagne right away!鈥� said Mr. Hemingway. Manuel walked away towards the kitchen.
鈥淲ho are you?鈥� I asked the man I did not know. 鈥淗emingway, you wouldn't happen to be related to the writer would you? His book The Sun Also Rises was the book I was just referring to; I don鈥檛 remember ever being quite so bored. On the bright side, I think it did wonders for my blood pressure.鈥� I said.
Dressed in worn khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with one too many colors, he stood there at my table and squinted at me, sweat rolling down the sides of his red face and into his gray beard. It was hot. He set his drink down on the table, hard, and pulled out a chair and sat down. 鈥淢ay I sit?鈥� he asked as he put his dirty bare feet up on the table and tipped the chair back. 鈥淪ure, you鈥檙e already in the chair. Besides I don鈥檛 think it will be long before you fall on your ass.鈥� I said, I drank some water, it was cold. 鈥淟anguage! I鈥檓 Ernest Hemingway the guy who wrote that boring book鈥� he put his feet on the ground and the chair dropped down with a bang. He put his right hand out to shake mine. I stared at it for a while then took it.
鈥淪tephanie. Hey, I don鈥檛 want to come across as insensitive but aren't you dead?鈥� I asked 鈥淩eally? I don鈥檛 feel dead鈥�.at least I don鈥檛 think I am.鈥� Said the not dead Ernest 鈥淒amn! Absinthe lives up to it's reputation." I said and smacked the left side of my head with my left hand. My head was hard.
鈥淢anuel!! Where鈥檚 that champagne?" I shouted in a panic. 鈥淪o鈥� Ernest picked up his drink and drank the whole thing in one gulp. 鈥淚 am one of the greatest American writers, if not the greatest, everybody says so. And you鈥�..鈥� he paused and pointed his finger at me using the same hand that still held the glass, the melting ice clinked 鈥測ou didn't like the Sun Also Rises?鈥� he asked and set his glass down.
鈥淚 know, I heard the same thing, that you were one of the greatest American writers, so imagine my surprise when I didn't love it like the rest of the human race. In fact, I really didn't like it AT ALL! Please don鈥檛 hurt me.鈥�
Manuel walked back to the table caring the bottle of Champagne and two glasses. He sat the glasses in front of us and went about the task of opening the bottle. 鈥淭hank god your back Manuel, I think I鈥檓 hallucinating. I hope champagne helps things normalize.鈥� I said, the bottle said 鈥減op.鈥� 鈥淚t won鈥檛 help because you are not hallucinating.鈥� He said and poured the Champagne, he turned and walked off. I picked up the glass and drank. It was bubbly and cold.
鈥淲hat else didn't you like about my book?鈥� Asked Ernest 鈥淚鈥檓 really not comfortable telling you to your face, but, alright鈥� I said 鈥淚 found all the characters to be aimless, unlikable, drunkards that didn't have any idea what to with their lives but travel about the world constantly drunk鈥�.which doesn't sound all that bad on the surface, but it was not interesting.鈥� I said 鈥淭hey were excruciatingly boring that I couldn't care enough about them to remember who was who.鈥� I said 鈥淚t felt like it would never end, but when it did end the only thing that I liked about it was the fact that it was finally over. No big payoff to make the boring book worth my time.鈥� I sighed and finished off my Champagne, I poured myself and Ernest another glass.
鈥淲ow. Sorry you hated it. I suppose you can鈥檛 please everyone.鈥� He said. 鈥淚鈥檒l buy you dinner to repay you for putting you through that.鈥�
鈥淭hat鈥檚 not necessary, but I could eat. I must bathe first.鈥� I said. 鈥淲ell sure, it is hot after all.鈥� He said 鈥淵es, I must bathe you understand? One cannot dine without bathing first, as you know, so you will have to wait until I bathe.鈥�
鈥淚 must bathe. I must bathe. I. must. Bathe.鈥� I said.
鈥淣ow you鈥檙e just making fun of me.鈥� he said.
鈥淵up鈥︹€ will make you suffer the way you made me suffer.鈥� I smiled.
鈥淕reat. I鈥檓 looking forward to it.鈥� Said not dead Ernest. We swayed to our feet, Ernest took my arm, we steadied ourselves and stumbled off into the sunset.
Also reviewed on
June 28, 2011
What I learned from this book (in no particular order):
1. Jews are stubborn.
2. Being a Jew in Princeton sucks.
3. Being impotent sucks, especially if you are in love with a beautiful woman.
4. A beautiful woman is built with curves like the hull of a racing boat. Women make swell friends.
5. If you suffer from domestic abuse, the best way to work it out is by going through as many men as possible in the shortest time, and then discard them like wet tissues once you鈥檙e done --- if you happen to be pretty enough to attract scores of them, that is.
6. The best way to work out existential angst is to drink your way through France and Spain.
7. The Left Bank sucks. Being an expat sucks.
8. Spain sucks, except for the bullfighting. Bullfights are swell.
9. Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bullfighters. Bulls have no balls.
10. People who run with the bulls are suckers.
Other Random Observations
No. of times the word 鈥渟well鈥� is used: 13
No. of alcohol units consumed by the protagonist: Dunno. Too tight to count. Hic.
Hemingway might have perfectly captured the Lost Generation鈥檚 times, but he also succeeded in inducing a profound ennui in me, especially during the long stretches in which the characters (none who is terribly interesting to begin with) do nothing except drink (鈥淚鈥檓 a little tight you know. Amazing, isn鈥檛 it? Did you see my nose?鈥�) and flirt with each other. These passages are tediously repetitive, and the effect is like being trapped in a Left Bank caf茅 with a bunch of casual acquaintances who insist on regaling you with boring anecdotes from their boozy Spain road trip. After a while, your eyes start to glaze and your attention wanders: you begin to take in the Belle Epogue interior, the cute waiter, the way the afternoon sun casts interesting patterns on the white tablecloth --- anything that is more interesting than the dull main narrative. I just didn鈥檛 care for any of them, and that Brett woman is a biatch. Why is everyone so desperately in love with her? They told me that her former husband slept with a gun under his pillow, but who is she really? And I wish that everyone would stop whining and being glib for a while so that they can tell me more about that wonderful Basque country. But no, they always return to these tedious, unaffecting love triangles.
You guys are the Lost Generation indeed.
1. Jews are stubborn.
2. Being a Jew in Princeton sucks.
3. Being impotent sucks, especially if you are in love with a beautiful woman.
4. A beautiful woman is built with curves like the hull of a racing boat. Women make swell friends.
5. If you suffer from domestic abuse, the best way to work it out is by going through as many men as possible in the shortest time, and then discard them like wet tissues once you鈥檙e done --- if you happen to be pretty enough to attract scores of them, that is.
6. The best way to work out existential angst is to drink your way through France and Spain.
7. The Left Bank sucks. Being an expat sucks.
8. Spain sucks, except for the bullfighting. Bullfights are swell.
9. Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bullfighters. Bulls have no balls.
10. People who run with the bulls are suckers.
Other Random Observations
No. of times the word 鈥渟well鈥� is used: 13
No. of alcohol units consumed by the protagonist: Dunno. Too tight to count. Hic.
Hemingway might have perfectly captured the Lost Generation鈥檚 times, but he also succeeded in inducing a profound ennui in me, especially during the long stretches in which the characters (none who is terribly interesting to begin with) do nothing except drink (鈥淚鈥檓 a little tight you know. Amazing, isn鈥檛 it? Did you see my nose?鈥�) and flirt with each other. These passages are tediously repetitive, and the effect is like being trapped in a Left Bank caf茅 with a bunch of casual acquaintances who insist on regaling you with boring anecdotes from their boozy Spain road trip. After a while, your eyes start to glaze and your attention wanders: you begin to take in the Belle Epogue interior, the cute waiter, the way the afternoon sun casts interesting patterns on the white tablecloth --- anything that is more interesting than the dull main narrative. I just didn鈥檛 care for any of them, and that Brett woman is a biatch. Why is everyone so desperately in love with her? They told me that her former husband slept with a gun under his pillow, but who is she really? And I wish that everyone would stop whining and being glib for a while so that they can tell me more about that wonderful Basque country. But no, they always return to these tedious, unaffecting love triangles.
You guys are the Lost Generation indeed.
January 12, 2016
THIS BOOK IS ABOUT A MAN IN SPAIN HE GETS FRIENDZONED.
November 25, 2010
If I were Hemingway's English teacher (or anyone's any kind of teacher) I'd say, "This reads more like a screenplay than a novel. Where are your descriptions, where is the emotion??"
And he would say something like, "The lack of complex descriptions helps focus on the complexities and emptiness of the characters' lives, and the emotion is there, it's only just beneath the surface, struggling to be free!"
And I'd say, "OK, I'll move ya from a C to C+."
Basically The Sun Also Rises shows that Hemingway liked bullfights a lot more than most of the people reading his books, and that he was vain but also hated himself. While the characters are wittily funny from time to time, the whole thing doesn't hold a candle to, I don't know, Seinfeld. Without being told, "Ah yes, this is about the true character of America!" you'd think it was just a drab romance novel with more subtleties than most.
Speaking of, how was this about America? It was more about America's elite. Most Americans in 1926 weren't hanging out in France and Spain, moaning about their lives. They were hanging out in America, trying to make it. You know, without dying.
Pretentious, with poor descriptions and transparent characters (I can give a character a subtle injury too and have it pain him, does that make me amazing?), The Sun Also Rises is one of the most overrated books I've ever read. I'd rather read a 1926 newspaper.
And he would say something like, "The lack of complex descriptions helps focus on the complexities and emptiness of the characters' lives, and the emotion is there, it's only just beneath the surface, struggling to be free!"
And I'd say, "OK, I'll move ya from a C to C+."
Basically The Sun Also Rises shows that Hemingway liked bullfights a lot more than most of the people reading his books, and that he was vain but also hated himself. While the characters are wittily funny from time to time, the whole thing doesn't hold a candle to, I don't know, Seinfeld. Without being told, "Ah yes, this is about the true character of America!" you'd think it was just a drab romance novel with more subtleties than most.
Speaking of, how was this about America? It was more about America's elite. Most Americans in 1926 weren't hanging out in France and Spain, moaning about their lives. They were hanging out in America, trying to make it. You know, without dying.
Pretentious, with poor descriptions and transparent characters (I can give a character a subtle injury too and have it pain him, does that make me amazing?), The Sun Also Rises is one of the most overrated books I've ever read. I'd rather read a 1926 newspaper.
January 16, 2025
This may be my favorite book of all time. At any rate, it's definitely on the top ten list and by far my favorite Hemingway (and I do love some Hemingway). The first time I read this, I loved Lady Brett Ashley. Is she a bitch? Sure, but I don't think she ever intentionally sets out to hurt anyone. And it might be argued that she has reason to be one: her first true love dies in the war from dysentery (not exactly the most noble of deaths) and she's physically threatened by Lord Ashley, forced to sleep on the floor beside him and his loaded gun (and let's clarify that,no, that's not a euphemism, just in case you're a perv). Then we have the one man who might make her happy, Jake Barnes. Poor, poor Jake, who doesn't have a gun, let alone a loaded one (yup, that's a euphemism--snicker away). I think Brett is one of the most tragic figures in American literature. Disillusioned by the war and how it irrevocably changed her life, she tries to fill the void with alcohol and sex--and destroys herself in the process.
However, upon rereading the novel, I realized how eclipsed Jake had been by Brett during my first reading. I also realized how I had misinterpreted him during my first reading. I thought Jake was as lost as the rest of the "Lost Generation," but I now believe that he is the only one who is not lost (with the exception of Bill Gorton, whose line "The road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs" may be my favorite in the book). If there's anyone with reason to give up on life, it's Jake. Does he pine for Brett? Yes. Does he come to hate Cohn for his affair with Brett? Affirmative. Does he get over Brett and realize that, even if properly equipped for a sexual relationship, a relationship with her would end as tragically as all of her other conquests? Abso-damn-lutely. After all, Brett is Circe, according to Cohn, and anyone lured into her bed will lose their manhood. The success of the relationship between Brett and Jake hinges on the fact that Jake literally has nothing to lose in this respect.
Cross posted at
However, upon rereading the novel, I realized how eclipsed Jake had been by Brett during my first reading. I also realized how I had misinterpreted him during my first reading. I thought Jake was as lost as the rest of the "Lost Generation," but I now believe that he is the only one who is not lost (with the exception of Bill Gorton, whose line "The road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs" may be my favorite in the book). If there's anyone with reason to give up on life, it's Jake. Does he pine for Brett? Yes. Does he come to hate Cohn for his affair with Brett? Affirmative. Does he get over Brett and realize that, even if properly equipped for a sexual relationship, a relationship with her would end as tragically as all of her other conquests? Abso-damn-lutely. After all, Brett is Circe, according to Cohn, and anyone lured into her bed will lose their manhood. The success of the relationship between Brett and Jake hinges on the fact that Jake literally has nothing to lose in this respect.
Cross posted at
August 18, 2022
Oceniam z wielkim b贸lem w sercu
April 26, 2024
鈥淔unny,鈥� Brett said. 鈥淗ow one doesn鈥檛 mind the blood.鈥� (p. 211)
Fifth or sixth reading. This is one of the essential books of life. It never fails. It possesses鈥攆or the right reader鈥攁n enormity of narrative pleasure and it grips from the very first line. Its storytelling is so exhilarating that one gets goosebumps.
Jake Barnes, our narrator, fought in The Great War for Italy (1914-18) when he was injured. Recuperating in the hospital he meets and falls in love with Lady Brett, a nurse. Later on, in Paris, where he works as a journalist, he runs into Brett again. Their relationship is now pure torture. Their chemistry is thermonuclear 鈥� she says Jake鈥檚 touch turns her to jelly and his love for her is beyond question 鈥� but sexual intimacy is impossible. Jake鈥檚 particular agony now, which he suffers in silence, is to standby while Brett sleeps with other men.
The passage at the Paris nightclub with the gay boys doesn鈥檛 bother me as it used to. Jake knows he鈥檚 being unreasonable. The queers, with whom Brett arrives at the club, have working penises and choose not to use them on her. To a man made impotent by war, a young man in love with her, their preference must seem like a kind of madness. Moreover, there may be a fear on his part that he鈥檚 becoming like them. That is, indifferent to female sexuality. He鈥檚 not, of course, not emotionally.
Now we鈥檝e left Paris, taking the train to Bayonne. Then in an open car up the dusty roads to the plateau and Pamplona. From here Jake and Bill go to Burguete to do some fly fishing while Robert Cohn returns to San Sebasti谩n to await Brett and fianc茅, Mike. The trip on the bus to Burguete鈥攖hrough the stark countryside while Jake and Bill drink wine with the Basques鈥攄azzles, lifts one鈥檚 spirits. The fishing sequences on the Irati River are beautifully spartan. Then after five days the fishermen are back in Pamplona. Mike and Brett and Cohn are about to complete the five-some.
So now we鈥檝e got three men together in Pamplona who love Brett, two of whom have slept with her: Jake, Mike and Robert Cohn. Jake sadly can have nothing more to do with her, though they remain close. Cohn is like a child, always staring at her, and the bankrupt fiance, Mike, doesn鈥檛 like it. They all go to watch the bulls arrive at the ring. Steers are brought in to 鈥渃alm鈥� the bulls. This usually ends with a steer or two being gored. That鈥檚 when Mike refers to Cohn as a steer for the mute worshiping manner in which he follows Brett around.
鈥淚 would鈥檝e thought you鈥檇 love being a steer, Robert."
鈥淲hat do you mean, Mike?鈥�
鈥淭hey lead such a quiet life. They never say anything and they鈥檙e always hanging about so.鈥�
We were embarrassed. Bill laughed. Robert Cohn was angry. Mike went on talking.
鈥淚 should think you鈥檇 love it. You鈥檇 never have to say a word. Come on, Robert. Do say something. Don鈥檛 just sit there.鈥�
鈥淚 said something, Mike. Don鈥檛 you remember? About the steers.鈥�
鈥淥h, say something more. Say something funny. Can鈥檛 you see we鈥檙e all having a good time here?鈥�
鈥淐ome off it, Michael. You鈥檙e drunk,鈥� Brett said.
鈥淚鈥檓 not drunk. I鈥檓 quite serious. Is Robert Cohn going to follow Brett around like a steer all the time?鈥�
鈥淪hut up, Michael. Try and show a little breeding.鈥�
鈥淏reeding be damned. Who has any breeding, anyway, except the bulls? Aren鈥檛 the bulls lovely? . . . Why don鈥檛 you say something, Robert? Don鈥檛 just sit there like a bloody funeral. What if Brett did sleep with you? She鈥檚 slept with lots of better people than you.鈥�
鈥淪hut up,鈥� Cohn said. He stood up. 鈥淪hut up, Mike.鈥�
鈥淥h, don鈥檛 stand up and act as though you were going to hit me. That won鈥檛 make any difference to me. Tell me, Robert. Why do you follow Brett around like a poor bloody steer? Don鈥檛 you know you鈥檙e not wanted?鈥� (p. 141-142)
It occurs to the reader just how painful this exchange must be for Jake, even though he doesn鈥檛 mention it. Hemingway was a master of omission, of not talking about the elephant in the room. I鈥檝e read and reread this passage and every time it surprises me anew. In some ways Jake is like a steer, too, but he doesn鈥檛 moon and fawn. Instead he鈥檚 very stoic, tortured, yes, but good at not seeming so, good at joining in the party.
Then the fiesta 鈥渆xplodes鈥� with two rockets over the main square and the peasants, who until then have been drinking quietly in the outer town, come rushing into the main square. They鈥檙e singing riau riau music and dancing. 鈥淭he square solid with people, those in the centre all dancing.鈥� (p. 159) The peasants dance about Brett as if she were some kind of Madonna. Everyone is ushered into a wine shop; some peasant women are wearing necklaces of garlic and one is hung about Brett鈥檚 neck. These are among the most moving moments in the book for the author captures the wonderful local manners with their astonishing air of friendliness and formality. The description is spare yet rich in detail.
The end is a knockout. Jake is held in odium because he has allowed the bullfight to be compromised. Whereas before, Jake and the hotel owner, Montoya, saw each other as fellow aficionados, now Jake is seen not just as a disappointment, but as a corrupter of the bullfight. There is much I鈥檓 not touching on here. Please read it.
Fifth or sixth reading. This is one of the essential books of life. It never fails. It possesses鈥攆or the right reader鈥攁n enormity of narrative pleasure and it grips from the very first line. Its storytelling is so exhilarating that one gets goosebumps.
Jake Barnes, our narrator, fought in The Great War for Italy (1914-18) when he was injured. Recuperating in the hospital he meets and falls in love with Lady Brett, a nurse. Later on, in Paris, where he works as a journalist, he runs into Brett again. Their relationship is now pure torture. Their chemistry is thermonuclear 鈥� she says Jake鈥檚 touch turns her to jelly and his love for her is beyond question 鈥� but sexual intimacy is impossible. Jake鈥檚 particular agony now, which he suffers in silence, is to standby while Brett sleeps with other men.
The passage at the Paris nightclub with the gay boys doesn鈥檛 bother me as it used to. Jake knows he鈥檚 being unreasonable. The queers, with whom Brett arrives at the club, have working penises and choose not to use them on her. To a man made impotent by war, a young man in love with her, their preference must seem like a kind of madness. Moreover, there may be a fear on his part that he鈥檚 becoming like them. That is, indifferent to female sexuality. He鈥檚 not, of course, not emotionally.
Now we鈥檝e left Paris, taking the train to Bayonne. Then in an open car up the dusty roads to the plateau and Pamplona. From here Jake and Bill go to Burguete to do some fly fishing while Robert Cohn returns to San Sebasti谩n to await Brett and fianc茅, Mike. The trip on the bus to Burguete鈥攖hrough the stark countryside while Jake and Bill drink wine with the Basques鈥攄azzles, lifts one鈥檚 spirits. The fishing sequences on the Irati River are beautifully spartan. Then after five days the fishermen are back in Pamplona. Mike and Brett and Cohn are about to complete the five-some.
So now we鈥檝e got three men together in Pamplona who love Brett, two of whom have slept with her: Jake, Mike and Robert Cohn. Jake sadly can have nothing more to do with her, though they remain close. Cohn is like a child, always staring at her, and the bankrupt fiance, Mike, doesn鈥檛 like it. They all go to watch the bulls arrive at the ring. Steers are brought in to 鈥渃alm鈥� the bulls. This usually ends with a steer or two being gored. That鈥檚 when Mike refers to Cohn as a steer for the mute worshiping manner in which he follows Brett around.
鈥淚 would鈥檝e thought you鈥檇 love being a steer, Robert."
鈥淲hat do you mean, Mike?鈥�
鈥淭hey lead such a quiet life. They never say anything and they鈥檙e always hanging about so.鈥�
We were embarrassed. Bill laughed. Robert Cohn was angry. Mike went on talking.
鈥淚 should think you鈥檇 love it. You鈥檇 never have to say a word. Come on, Robert. Do say something. Don鈥檛 just sit there.鈥�
鈥淚 said something, Mike. Don鈥檛 you remember? About the steers.鈥�
鈥淥h, say something more. Say something funny. Can鈥檛 you see we鈥檙e all having a good time here?鈥�
鈥淐ome off it, Michael. You鈥檙e drunk,鈥� Brett said.
鈥淚鈥檓 not drunk. I鈥檓 quite serious. Is Robert Cohn going to follow Brett around like a steer all the time?鈥�
鈥淪hut up, Michael. Try and show a little breeding.鈥�
鈥淏reeding be damned. Who has any breeding, anyway, except the bulls? Aren鈥檛 the bulls lovely? . . . Why don鈥檛 you say something, Robert? Don鈥檛 just sit there like a bloody funeral. What if Brett did sleep with you? She鈥檚 slept with lots of better people than you.鈥�
鈥淪hut up,鈥� Cohn said. He stood up. 鈥淪hut up, Mike.鈥�
鈥淥h, don鈥檛 stand up and act as though you were going to hit me. That won鈥檛 make any difference to me. Tell me, Robert. Why do you follow Brett around like a poor bloody steer? Don鈥檛 you know you鈥檙e not wanted?鈥� (p. 141-142)
It occurs to the reader just how painful this exchange must be for Jake, even though he doesn鈥檛 mention it. Hemingway was a master of omission, of not talking about the elephant in the room. I鈥檝e read and reread this passage and every time it surprises me anew. In some ways Jake is like a steer, too, but he doesn鈥檛 moon and fawn. Instead he鈥檚 very stoic, tortured, yes, but good at not seeming so, good at joining in the party.
Then the fiesta 鈥渆xplodes鈥� with two rockets over the main square and the peasants, who until then have been drinking quietly in the outer town, come rushing into the main square. They鈥檙e singing riau riau music and dancing. 鈥淭he square solid with people, those in the centre all dancing.鈥� (p. 159) The peasants dance about Brett as if she were some kind of Madonna. Everyone is ushered into a wine shop; some peasant women are wearing necklaces of garlic and one is hung about Brett鈥檚 neck. These are among the most moving moments in the book for the author captures the wonderful local manners with their astonishing air of friendliness and formality. The description is spare yet rich in detail.
The end is a knockout. Jake is held in odium because he has allowed the bullfight to be compromised. Whereas before, Jake and the hotel owner, Montoya, saw each other as fellow aficionados, now Jake is seen not just as a disappointment, but as a corrupter of the bullfight. There is much I鈥檓 not touching on here. Please read it.
June 25, 2019
I've read this book every year since 1991, and it is never the same book. Like so many things in this world, improves with age and attention.
Some readings I find myself in love with Lady Brett Ashley. Then I am firmly in Jake Barnes' camp, feeling his pain and wondering how he stays sane with all that happens around him. Another time I can't help but feel that Robert Cohn is getting a shitty deal and find his behavior not only understandable but restrained. Or I am with Mike and Bill and Romero on the periphery where the hurricane made by Brett and Jake and Robert destroys spirits or fun or nothing (which is decidedly something).
And then I am against them all as though they were my sworn enemies or my family. No matter what I feel while reading , it is Hemingway's richest novel for me.
I feel it was written for me. And sometimes feel it was written by me (I surely wish it was).
Hemingway's language, his characterizations, his love for all the people he writes about (no matter how unsavory they may be), his love of women and men, his empathy with the pain people feel in life and love, his touch with locale, his integration of sport as metaphor and setting, his getting everything just right with nothing out of place and nothing superfluous, all of this makes The Sun Also Rises his most important novel.
It is the Hemingway short story writ large. It is the book he should be remembered for but isn't. I often wonder why that is, and the conclusion I come to is this: is too real, too true, too painful for the average reader to stomach. And many who can are predisposed to hate .
A terrible shame that so many miss something so achingly beautiful.
Some readings I find myself in love with Lady Brett Ashley. Then I am firmly in Jake Barnes' camp, feeling his pain and wondering how he stays sane with all that happens around him. Another time I can't help but feel that Robert Cohn is getting a shitty deal and find his behavior not only understandable but restrained. Or I am with Mike and Bill and Romero on the periphery where the hurricane made by Brett and Jake and Robert destroys spirits or fun or nothing (which is decidedly something).
And then I am against them all as though they were my sworn enemies or my family. No matter what I feel while reading , it is Hemingway's richest novel for me.
I feel it was written for me. And sometimes feel it was written by me (I surely wish it was).
Hemingway's language, his characterizations, his love for all the people he writes about (no matter how unsavory they may be), his love of women and men, his empathy with the pain people feel in life and love, his touch with locale, his integration of sport as metaphor and setting, his getting everything just right with nothing out of place and nothing superfluous, all of this makes The Sun Also Rises his most important novel.
It is the Hemingway short story writ large. It is the book he should be remembered for but isn't. I often wonder why that is, and the conclusion I come to is this: is too real, too true, too painful for the average reader to stomach. And many who can are predisposed to hate .
A terrible shame that so many miss something so achingly beautiful.
June 5, 2018
My feelings haven't changed since my last re-read of The Sun Also Rises (my earlier review is below). I'm still amazed at how fully the characters come alive on the page! I don't think The Sun Also Rises is for everyone; however, nearly from beginning to end, I'm engaged in the story.
Just finished a re-read of The Sun Also Rises (my favorite Hemingway book-last read in 2014). I didn鈥檛 provide a review at the time so I thought I would (try to) explain why this book speaks to me. First, it is deceptively easy to fall into with its short sentences and simple language. Nothing is forced. However, it is the mood Hemingway creates in this novel which really engages me. Perhaps that says as much about me as it does about the novel. The appeal is not so much about the story; it is how the characters move through the scenes with a sense that nothing can touch them (while conversely, they can鈥檛 really touch or be important to anyone else).
This exemplifies that lack of hope in the so-called 鈥榣ost generation,鈥� that feeling that nothing you do will make a difference. The Sun Also Rises is not a feel-good book, but it allows you to re-evaluate people as social animals who constantly struggle and fail (and maybe once in a while succeed) in forging meaningful relationships. In some ways, the carefree expat life of the characters seems idyllic; however, Hemingway also makes you feel that slipping into this existence (even with its charms) might make you want to spit at the world. The Sun Also Rises captures a historical moment, perhaps not just of the lost generation, but also of future generations uncertain of their place in the world.
Just finished a re-read of The Sun Also Rises (my favorite Hemingway book-last read in 2014). I didn鈥檛 provide a review at the time so I thought I would (try to) explain why this book speaks to me. First, it is deceptively easy to fall into with its short sentences and simple language. Nothing is forced. However, it is the mood Hemingway creates in this novel which really engages me. Perhaps that says as much about me as it does about the novel. The appeal is not so much about the story; it is how the characters move through the scenes with a sense that nothing can touch them (while conversely, they can鈥檛 really touch or be important to anyone else).
This exemplifies that lack of hope in the so-called 鈥榣ost generation,鈥� that feeling that nothing you do will make a difference. The Sun Also Rises is not a feel-good book, but it allows you to re-evaluate people as social animals who constantly struggle and fail (and maybe once in a while succeed) in forging meaningful relationships. In some ways, the carefree expat life of the characters seems idyllic; however, Hemingway also makes you feel that slipping into this existence (even with its charms) might make you want to spit at the world. The Sun Also Rises captures a historical moment, perhaps not just of the lost generation, but also of future generations uncertain of their place in the world.
August 2, 2021
To put it bluntly, The Sun Also Rises (aka Fiesta) is probably the most overrated little novel in the history of 20th-century American literature. It reads like an alcoholic鈥檚 travelogue set in France and Spain, jazzed up with some shallow m茅nage 脿 trois plotline. But 鈥� it is not as bad as it sounds. Let me explain.
About the first half of the book is set in mid-1920s Paris. Jake Barnes, the narrator, goes from one bar to the next restaurant to the next caf茅, eats and drinks heavily with a group of Anglo-American bohemians, provides all sorts of insignificant details about what they鈥檝e gulped down and how much was on the bill, and then catches yet another taxi and goes on boozing away into the night. All the while doing some silly Parisian place-name dropping, to the extent that it sometimes feels as though you are reading a Paris tour pamphlet. And you could almost 鈥� as I鈥檓 sure some readers have 鈥� trace back all the places Jake & Co have been to in this book.
The second half of the novel, thankfully, goes somewhat uphill. The merry bunch of drunkards travel south to the Basque region, first to a short fishing trip in the Pyrenees 鈥� it all ends up with a few bottles of wine and a nap on the turf... and, later, at the Fiesta de San Ferm铆n in Pamplona. Just as he does for Paris, Hemingway describes the places and local habits in the manner of a tour guide. I suspect he significantly contributed to the international renown of the Pamplona festival too. To this day, people from all over the world come running (literally) to feel the adrenaline burst, when some half-a-ton black bull charges down a narrow street into the hysterical crowd.
The high point of the novel is, doubtless, the description of the bullfight toward the end. Of course, it is not very different from what a sports commentator would do regarding a football match. But in this occasion, Hemingway鈥檚 terse, crisp, lean, hard-boiled, journalistic style does wonders to convey the atmosphere on the plaza de toros, the brutality and sometimes the beauty of the matador鈥檚 performance. So much so that, when he describes Pedro Romero鈥檚 movements when fighting the bull, it is as though Hemingways is talking about an art form 鈥� perhaps implicitly, his own craft as a writer: 鈥淩omero鈥檚 bullfighting gave real emotion, because he kept the absolute purity of line in his movements and always quietly and calmly let the horns pass him close each time.鈥� In this case, I have to take my hat off and declare that both and can eat their heart out with their games of Quidditch and Eschaton!
The little plot regarding the group of men orbiting one beautiful woman (Brett Ashley), who ultimately is eager to sleep with all of them, is possibly autobiographical, but quite frankly vapid 鈥� does a much better job at describing similar interactions. The only aspect that is quite remarkable is that these characters are all WWI veterans and, in a way, still suffer from the wounds and traumas of war. Hence, we suppose, their decadent, numbing and self-destructive behaviour with booze, sex, fistfighting and intoxicating forms of entertainment. In a way, underneath all their tough machismo, Hemingway鈥檚 characters are quite vulnerable, wretched, and even a bit pathetic.
Since Hemingway鈥檚 time, the 补蹿颈肠颈贸苍 for Spanish traditions and bullfighting in particular 鈥� which he shared with Bizet, Ravel, Picasso, Eisenstein, John Huston and many others 鈥� has dwindled considerably. To the point where most people now take a dim view of the corridas de toros, and on the whole, have turned to football or other sports instead. Still, the influence of Hemingway鈥檚 style has become so prevalent in our time that it has become something of a clich茅. For instance, in the SF genre alone, the laddish attitude in Heinlein鈥檚 ; the detailed and stripped-down descriptions in Cormac McCarthy鈥檚 ; the constant wine drinking in G.R.R. Martin鈥檚 ... all these are tropes stolen from Hemingway.
About the first half of the book is set in mid-1920s Paris. Jake Barnes, the narrator, goes from one bar to the next restaurant to the next caf茅, eats and drinks heavily with a group of Anglo-American bohemians, provides all sorts of insignificant details about what they鈥檝e gulped down and how much was on the bill, and then catches yet another taxi and goes on boozing away into the night. All the while doing some silly Parisian place-name dropping, to the extent that it sometimes feels as though you are reading a Paris tour pamphlet. And you could almost 鈥� as I鈥檓 sure some readers have 鈥� trace back all the places Jake & Co have been to in this book.
The second half of the novel, thankfully, goes somewhat uphill. The merry bunch of drunkards travel south to the Basque region, first to a short fishing trip in the Pyrenees 鈥� it all ends up with a few bottles of wine and a nap on the turf... and, later, at the Fiesta de San Ferm铆n in Pamplona. Just as he does for Paris, Hemingway describes the places and local habits in the manner of a tour guide. I suspect he significantly contributed to the international renown of the Pamplona festival too. To this day, people from all over the world come running (literally) to feel the adrenaline burst, when some half-a-ton black bull charges down a narrow street into the hysterical crowd.
The high point of the novel is, doubtless, the description of the bullfight toward the end. Of course, it is not very different from what a sports commentator would do regarding a football match. But in this occasion, Hemingway鈥檚 terse, crisp, lean, hard-boiled, journalistic style does wonders to convey the atmosphere on the plaza de toros, the brutality and sometimes the beauty of the matador鈥檚 performance. So much so that, when he describes Pedro Romero鈥檚 movements when fighting the bull, it is as though Hemingways is talking about an art form 鈥� perhaps implicitly, his own craft as a writer: 鈥淩omero鈥檚 bullfighting gave real emotion, because he kept the absolute purity of line in his movements and always quietly and calmly let the horns pass him close each time.鈥� In this case, I have to take my hat off and declare that both and can eat their heart out with their games of Quidditch and Eschaton!
The little plot regarding the group of men orbiting one beautiful woman (Brett Ashley), who ultimately is eager to sleep with all of them, is possibly autobiographical, but quite frankly vapid 鈥� does a much better job at describing similar interactions. The only aspect that is quite remarkable is that these characters are all WWI veterans and, in a way, still suffer from the wounds and traumas of war. Hence, we suppose, their decadent, numbing and self-destructive behaviour with booze, sex, fistfighting and intoxicating forms of entertainment. In a way, underneath all their tough machismo, Hemingway鈥檚 characters are quite vulnerable, wretched, and even a bit pathetic.
Since Hemingway鈥檚 time, the 补蹿颈肠颈贸苍 for Spanish traditions and bullfighting in particular 鈥� which he shared with Bizet, Ravel, Picasso, Eisenstein, John Huston and many others 鈥� has dwindled considerably. To the point where most people now take a dim view of the corridas de toros, and on the whole, have turned to football or other sports instead. Still, the influence of Hemingway鈥檚 style has become so prevalent in our time that it has become something of a clich茅. For instance, in the SF genre alone, the laddish attitude in Heinlein鈥檚 ; the detailed and stripped-down descriptions in Cormac McCarthy鈥檚 ; the constant wine drinking in G.R.R. Martin鈥檚 ... all these are tropes stolen from Hemingway.
April 14, 2025
That summer of 1969, the experience of reading this book on my friend Doug鈥檚 recommendation was a peaceful hiatus from collegiate life.
Doug worked at a nearby swimming pool as a lifeguard, and I was immersed in reading up extensively for my Eng Lit degree.
Larry, across the street from Doug, would share his Yamaha motorbike seat with me in the evenings for long rides, while Doug zipped around closer to home on his Honda 50 scooter.
It was a sun-filled summer, perfect for a Hemingway novel in the same vein.
I loved it and could relate.
Its hero, Jake, was a lot like me. Uncompromisingly straight in orientation, we both fell victim to a private Daemon.
And Jake drinks.
Drinks to forget the war injury that has driven a wedge between him and his ladylove Brett. So they usually end up the evenings getting a little happy.
Oh, so you say the sun also rises? Dang, missed it again.
The real problem with Jake - and his great creator Hemingway - is that it鈥檚 impossible for him to forget.
But you gotta deal with it!
And balancing homophobia with the blurred lines of vision afforded by drink always backfires.
If you blur those lines they鈥檙e gonna bite you back. Happened to me, too, the year after I read this. Always keep one eye open.
Hemingway didn鈥檛 even believe in precautions.
When he died in the JFK Era there was new hope in the air.
But Hemingway didn鈥檛 feel it.
All he felt were his demons.
Folks, never make a habit of drowning your demons. For your self pity will then give them strength.
DEAL with them now -
BEFORE they roar back, seeking revenge.
Doug worked at a nearby swimming pool as a lifeguard, and I was immersed in reading up extensively for my Eng Lit degree.
Larry, across the street from Doug, would share his Yamaha motorbike seat with me in the evenings for long rides, while Doug zipped around closer to home on his Honda 50 scooter.
It was a sun-filled summer, perfect for a Hemingway novel in the same vein.
I loved it and could relate.
Its hero, Jake, was a lot like me. Uncompromisingly straight in orientation, we both fell victim to a private Daemon.
And Jake drinks.
Drinks to forget the war injury that has driven a wedge between him and his ladylove Brett. So they usually end up the evenings getting a little happy.
Oh, so you say the sun also rises? Dang, missed it again.
The real problem with Jake - and his great creator Hemingway - is that it鈥檚 impossible for him to forget.
But you gotta deal with it!
And balancing homophobia with the blurred lines of vision afforded by drink always backfires.
If you blur those lines they鈥檙e gonna bite you back. Happened to me, too, the year after I read this. Always keep one eye open.
Hemingway didn鈥檛 even believe in precautions.
When he died in the JFK Era there was new hope in the air.
But Hemingway didn鈥檛 feel it.
All he felt were his demons.
Folks, never make a habit of drowning your demons. For your self pity will then give them strength.
DEAL with them now -
BEFORE they roar back, seeking revenge.
August 18, 2024
During the warm, friendly, tender hours of the evening twilight, as the day鈥檚 burdens slowly drifted away, my attention was redirected towards F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Life in Letters. As an alleged friend and supporter of Ernest Hemingway, Fitzgerald suggested a number of revisions to The Sun Also Rises.
鈥淎nyhow I think parts of Sun Also are careless + ineffectual.鈥� 鈥� F. Scott Fitzgerald
My curiosity was piqued. Would the impressionable Hemingway accept these review points or reject them?
I had to find out! Investigation hats on!
The Sun Also Rises is set shortly after World War I where a group of riotous expats (Robert Cohn, Jake Barnes, Lady Brett Ashley, Bill Gorton, Mike Campbell) find themselves living in Paris with imbibing being the order of the day. After some time, the group decides to gallivant to Spain to experience the bull-fighting season and other largely forgettable activities. However, as so often happens when excess alcohol is involved, many of the characters behave badly.
While Hemingway struggles to balance dialogue with descriptive prose, The Sun Also Rises hits many of the right notes.
There are some gorgeous lines:
鈥淚 like him. But he鈥檚 just so awful.鈥�
鈥淐ohn had a wonderful quality of bringing out the worst in anybody.鈥�
鈥淚t was like certain dinners I remember from the war. There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent from happening.鈥�
Interestingly, some of the characters in The Sun Also Rises are based off real-life people. Lady Brett Ashley was inspired by Duff Twysden, and Hemingway struck up a friendship with hotelier, Juanito Quintana who shared his knowledge of bull fighting and ran the now-defunct Hotel Quintana. He is the inspiration behind Montoya and the Montoya Hotel.
The Prince of Wales was mentioned in relation to a medal-awarding ceremony. Now, earlier this month, I was reading out of The Great Gatsby manuscript, and there is a certain section that did not make it into the published book鈥攁 passage about a rumor that the Prince of Wales was using dope. Who was the Prince of Wales at this point in history you ask? Edward VIII, the gentleman who ended up abdicating to marry an American divorcee.
Despite the uneven pacing, the symbolism in the last half of the book was worth the endurance. Tip: You may want to look up the difference between a bull and a steer.
Some sections were slow鈥攖he fishing scene was particularly boring and seemed only to exist to make the point that someone had the bigger fish. Tee hee.
What did the great F. Scott Fitzgerald really think of The Sun Also Rises?
This two-faced friend of Hemingway wrote to Maxwell Perkins, the editor for both Fitzgerald and Hemingway at Scribner:
鈥淚 liked it but with certain qualifications. The fiesta, the fishing trip, the minor characters were fine. The lady I didn鈥檛 like, perhaps because I don鈥檛 like the original. In the mutilated man I thought Ernest bit off more than can yet be chewn between the covers of a book, then lost his nerve a little and edited the more vitalizing details out. He has since told me that something like this happened.鈥�
Hemingway had had enough of Fitzgerald鈥檚 鈥渉elp.鈥� When Fitzgerald tried to send another set of review notes for Hemingway鈥檚 next novel, A Farewell to Arms, Hemingway wrote on the letter, 鈥淜iss my ***鈥� and largely ignored his advice.
The Green Light at the End of the Dock (How much I spent):
Hardcover Text - $82.32 at Abe Books for a First Edition Library copy
Audiobook - Free through Libby
2025 Reading Schedule
Jan A Town Like Alice
Feb Birdsong
Mar Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
Apr War and Peace
May The Woman in White
Jun Atonement
Jul The Shadow of the Wind
Aug Jude the Obscure
Sep Ulysses
Oct Vanity Fair
Nov A Fine Balance
Dec Germinal
Connect With Me!
鈥淎nyhow I think parts of Sun Also are careless + ineffectual.鈥� 鈥� F. Scott Fitzgerald
My curiosity was piqued. Would the impressionable Hemingway accept these review points or reject them?
I had to find out! Investigation hats on!
The Sun Also Rises is set shortly after World War I where a group of riotous expats (Robert Cohn, Jake Barnes, Lady Brett Ashley, Bill Gorton, Mike Campbell) find themselves living in Paris with imbibing being the order of the day. After some time, the group decides to gallivant to Spain to experience the bull-fighting season and other largely forgettable activities. However, as so often happens when excess alcohol is involved, many of the characters behave badly.
While Hemingway struggles to balance dialogue with descriptive prose, The Sun Also Rises hits many of the right notes.
There are some gorgeous lines:
鈥淚 like him. But he鈥檚 just so awful.鈥�
鈥淐ohn had a wonderful quality of bringing out the worst in anybody.鈥�
鈥淚t was like certain dinners I remember from the war. There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent from happening.鈥�
Interestingly, some of the characters in The Sun Also Rises are based off real-life people. Lady Brett Ashley was inspired by Duff Twysden, and Hemingway struck up a friendship with hotelier, Juanito Quintana who shared his knowledge of bull fighting and ran the now-defunct Hotel Quintana. He is the inspiration behind Montoya and the Montoya Hotel.
The Prince of Wales was mentioned in relation to a medal-awarding ceremony. Now, earlier this month, I was reading out of The Great Gatsby manuscript, and there is a certain section that did not make it into the published book鈥攁 passage about a rumor that the Prince of Wales was using dope. Who was the Prince of Wales at this point in history you ask? Edward VIII, the gentleman who ended up abdicating to marry an American divorcee.
Despite the uneven pacing, the symbolism in the last half of the book was worth the endurance. Tip: You may want to look up the difference between a bull and a steer.
Some sections were slow鈥攖he fishing scene was particularly boring and seemed only to exist to make the point that someone had the bigger fish. Tee hee.
What did the great F. Scott Fitzgerald really think of The Sun Also Rises?
This two-faced friend of Hemingway wrote to Maxwell Perkins, the editor for both Fitzgerald and Hemingway at Scribner:
鈥淚 liked it but with certain qualifications. The fiesta, the fishing trip, the minor characters were fine. The lady I didn鈥檛 like, perhaps because I don鈥檛 like the original. In the mutilated man I thought Ernest bit off more than can yet be chewn between the covers of a book, then lost his nerve a little and edited the more vitalizing details out. He has since told me that something like this happened.鈥�
Hemingway had had enough of Fitzgerald鈥檚 鈥渉elp.鈥� When Fitzgerald tried to send another set of review notes for Hemingway鈥檚 next novel, A Farewell to Arms, Hemingway wrote on the letter, 鈥淜iss my ***鈥� and largely ignored his advice.
The Green Light at the End of the Dock (How much I spent):
Hardcover Text - $82.32 at Abe Books for a First Edition Library copy
Audiobook - Free through Libby
2025 Reading Schedule
Jan A Town Like Alice
Feb Birdsong
Mar Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
Apr War and Peace
May The Woman in White
Jun Atonement
Jul The Shadow of the Wind
Aug Jude the Obscure
Sep Ulysses
Oct Vanity Fair
Nov A Fine Balance
Dec Germinal
Connect With Me!
October 15, 2021
The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway
The Sun Also Rises is a 1926 novel written by American author Ernest Hemingway about a group of American and British expatriates who travel from Paris to the Festival of San Ferm铆n in Pamplona to watch the running of the bulls and the bullfights. An early and enduring modernist novel.
The Sun Also Rises, the brilliant novel, which established Ernest as a great, and stylish writer, and one of the most prominent novelists of his time.
The pleasant and sad story of a few Americans, and a young Englishman, displaced from their homeland, living in Paris, and going on a tour of "Pamplona" in Spain, this novel is also have been a fateful one in the formation of Hemingway's unique style.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲賲 賲丕賴 丕讴鬲亘乇 爻丕賱 2012賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賴賲趩賳丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫呚� 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 丕乇賳爻鬲 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖貨 賲鬲乇噩賲 賴賲丕蹖賵賳 賲賯丿賲貨 1333貙 丿乇242氐貨 趩丕倬 丿蹖诏乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 爻丕夭賲丕賳 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖 噩蹖亘蹖貙 1340貨 丿乇263氐貨 賲賵囟賵毓 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 丕蹖丕賱丕鬲 賲鬲丨丿賴 丌賲乇蹖讴丕 - 爻丿賴 20賲
賲鬲乇噩賲: 毓乇賮丕賳 賯丕賳毓蹖 賮乇丿貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴 爻亘夭貙 1379貨 丿乇 243氐貨
賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕丨爻丕賳 賱丕賲毓貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴貙 1389貨 丿乇 308氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 9789643515683貨
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賳賯賱 丕夭 賲鬲賳: (芦乇丕亘乇鬲 讴賵賴賳禄 夭賲丕賳蹖 賯賴乇賲丕賳 賲蹖丕賳 賵夭賳 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 亘賵丿貨 禺蹖丕賱 賳讴賳蹖丿 丕蹖賳 毓賳賵丕賳 乇賵蹖 賲賳貙 鬲丕孬蹖乇 夭蹖丕丿蹖 诏匕丕卮鬲賴 丕爻鬲貨 賵賱蹖 丕夭 賳馗乇 芦讴賵賴賳禄 禺蹖賱蹖 丕賴賲蹖鬲 丿丕卮鬲貨 丕賵 亘賴 賴蹖趩鈥屭嗃屫� 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 賳賲蹖鈥屫ㄘз勠屫� 賵 乇丕爻鬲卮 丕夭 丌賳 亘丿卮 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屫①呚� 丕賲丕 丌賳 乇丕 亘丕 丿賯鬲 賵 賲卮賯鬲 賮乇丕賵丕賳 蹖丕丿 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿貙 鬲丕 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇 丨爻 丨賯丕乇鬲貙 賵 卮乇賲賳丿诏蹖貙 賳爻亘鬲 亘賴 乇賮鬲丕乇蹖 讴賴貙 亘丕 丕賵 丿乇 賲賯丕賲 芦蹖賴賵丿蹖禄 賲蹖鈥屫簇� 賲賯丕亘賱賴 讴賳丿貨 丕賵 賵賯鬲蹖 賲蹖鈥屫з嗀池� 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗀� 賴乇 讴爻蹖 乇丕 讴賴 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇卮 賯丿 毓賱賲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 亘丕 囟乇亘賴鈥� 丕蹖 讴丕乇卮 乇丕 鬲賲丕賲 讴賳丿貙 亘賴 丌乇丕賲卮 丿乇賵賳蹖 賲蹖鈥屫必驰屫� 賵 趩賵賳 倬爻乇蹖 亘爻蹖丕乇 賳丕夭賳蹖賳貙 賵 禺噩丕賱鬲蹖 亘賵丿貙 亘賴 噩夭 亘丕卮诏丕賴 丿乇 賴蹖趩 噩丕 亘丕 讴爻蹖 賲亘丕乇夭賴 賳賲蹖鈥屭┴必� 丕賵 卮丕诏乇丿 丕乇卮丿 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 亘賵丿貨 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 亘賴 賴賲诏蹖 卮丕诏乇丿丕賳 噩賵丕賳 禺賵丿 蹖丕丿 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿 鬲丕 賲孬賱 爻亘讴 賵夭賳鈥屬囏� 賲亘丕乇夭賴 讴賳賳丿貨 賲賴賲 賳亘賵丿 讴賴 氐丿賵倬賳噩 倬賵賳丿 亘丕卮賳丿貙 蹖丕 丿賵蹖爻鬲 賵 倬賳噩 倬賵賳丿貨 丕賲丕 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖鈥屫必驰屫� 讴賴 丕賵 芦讴賵賴賳禄 乇丕 亘乇丕蹖 賴乇 賲賵賯毓蹖鬲蹖 丌賲丕丿賴 賲蹖鈥屭┴必� 丕賵 禺蹖賱蹖 賮乇夭 亘賵丿貨 讴丕乇卮 趩賳丕賳 禺賵亘 亘賵丿 讴賴 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇禄貙 賮賵乇丕賸 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 賲爻丕亘賯賴鈥� 賴丕蹖 夭蹖丕丿蹖 賮乇爻鬲丕丿貨 賴賲蹖卮賴 禺丿丕 賴賲 丿賲丕睾卮 乇丕 乇賵蹖 氐賵乇鬲卮 氐丕賮 賲蹖鈥屭┴必嗀� 丕蹖賳讴丕乇 亘丕毓孬 卮丿 鬲丕 亘蹖鈥屫必贺ㄘ� 芦讴賵賴賳禄 亘賴 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 亘蹖卮鈥屫� 卮賵丿貨 賵賱蹖 亘賴 賳賵毓蹖 睾乇蹖亘貙 丿乇 丿乇賵賳卮 丕乇囟丕亍 賲蹖鈥屫簇� 賵 丕蹖賳 丕賲乇 亘賴 蹖賯蹖賳 夭禺賲 丿賲丕睾卮 乇丕 亘賴亘賵丿 賲蹖鈥屫ㄘ篡屫� 丌禺乇蹖賳 爻丕賱蹖 讴賴 芦丿乇 倬乇蹖賳爻鬲賵賳禄 亘賵丿貙 亘賴 賲胤丕賱毓賴 夭蹖丕丿 乇賵蹖 丌賵乇丿 賵 毓蹖賳讴蹖 卮丿貨 鬲丕 丌賳噩丕 讴賴 賲賳 蹖丕丿賲 賲蹖鈥屫③屫� 賴乇诏夭 讴爻蹖 丕夭 賴賲 丿賵乇賴鈥� 賴丕蹖 丕賵 乇丕 賳丿蹖丿賴鈥� 丕賲 讴賴 丕賵 乇丕 蹖丕丿卮丕賳 亘丕卮丿貨 丌賳鈥屬囏� 丨鬲丕 蹖丕丿卮丕賳 賳賲蹖鈥屫①呚� 讴賴 丕賵 賯賴乇賲丕賳 賲蹖丕賳 賵夭賳 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 丕爻鬲
賲賳 亘賴 丌丿賲鈥屬囏й� 爻丕丿賴 賵 乇讴貙 亘賴 禺氐賵氐 賵賯鬲蹖 讴賴 丿丕爻鬲丕賳鈥屬囏й屫簇з� 毓蹖賳 賴賲 亘丕卮丿貙 丕毓鬲賲丕丿蹖 賳丿丕乇賲 賵 賴賲賵丕乇賴 亘丿诏賲丕賳 亘賵丿賲 讴賴 芦乇丕亘乇鬲 讴賵賴賳禄 丨鬲丕 賯賴乇賲丕賳 賲蹖丕賳 賵夭賳 賲卮鬲 夭賳蹖 亘賵丿賴 亘丕卮丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 丕爻亘蹖 丿賲丕睾 丕賵 乇丕 賱賴 讴乇丿賴貙 蹖丕 賲丕丿乇卮 丕夭 趩蹖夭蹖 鬲乇爻蹖丿賴 亘賵丿貨 賲賲讴賳 丕爻鬲 賵賯鬲蹖 鬲丕夭賴 倬丕 賲蹖鈥屭辟佖囏� 亘賴 噩丕蹖蹖 禺賵乇丿賴貨 賵賱蹖 丌禺乇 爻乇 讴爻蹖 乇丕 倬蹖丿丕 讴乇丿賲貙 讴賴 丕夭 夭亘丕賳 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 氐丨鬲 賲賵囟賵毓 乇丕 鬲丕蹖蹖丿 讴乇丿貨 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 賳賴 鬲賳賴丕 芦讴賵賴賳禄 乇丕 賮乇丕賲賵卮 賳讴乇丿賴 亘賵丿貙 丕睾賱亘 噩賵蹖丕 亘賵丿 讴賴 趩賴 丕鬲賮丕賯蹖 亘乇丕蹖卮 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 丕爻鬲)貨 倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 16/10/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 22/07/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
The Sun Also Rises is a 1926 novel written by American author Ernest Hemingway about a group of American and British expatriates who travel from Paris to the Festival of San Ferm铆n in Pamplona to watch the running of the bulls and the bullfights. An early and enduring modernist novel.
The Sun Also Rises, the brilliant novel, which established Ernest as a great, and stylish writer, and one of the most prominent novelists of his time.
The pleasant and sad story of a few Americans, and a young Englishman, displaced from their homeland, living in Paris, and going on a tour of "Pamplona" in Spain, this novel is also have been a fateful one in the formation of Hemingway's unique style.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲賲 賲丕賴 丕讴鬲亘乇 爻丕賱 2012賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賴賲趩賳丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫呚� 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 丕乇賳爻鬲 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖貨 賲鬲乇噩賲 賴賲丕蹖賵賳 賲賯丿賲貨 1333貙 丿乇242氐貨 趩丕倬 丿蹖诏乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 爻丕夭賲丕賳 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖 噩蹖亘蹖貙 1340貨 丿乇263氐貨 賲賵囟賵毓 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 丕蹖丕賱丕鬲 賲鬲丨丿賴 丌賲乇蹖讴丕 - 爻丿賴 20賲
賲鬲乇噩賲: 毓乇賮丕賳 賯丕賳毓蹖 賮乇丿貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴 爻亘夭貙 1379貨 丿乇 243氐貨
賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕丨爻丕賳 賱丕賲毓貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴貙 1389貨 丿乇 308氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 9789643515683貨
禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賴賲趩賳丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫呚� 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 丿乇禺卮丕賳貙 丕夭 賳诏丕乇賴 賴丕蹖 芦丕乇賳爻鬲 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖禄 亘賵丿賴 讴賴 丕蹖卮丕賳 乇丕貙 丿乇 噩丕蹖诏丕賴 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴鈥� 丕蹖 亘夭乇诏賵丕乇貙 丿丕乇丕蹖 爻亘讴貙 賵 丕夭 亘乇噩爻鬲賴鈥� 鬲乇蹖賳 乇賲丕賳鈥屬嗁堐屫池з� 乇賵夭诏丕乇 禺賵丿貙 丕爻鬲賵丕乇 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 爻乇诏匕卮鬲 禺賵卮丕蹖賳丿貙 賵 丕賳丿賵賴亘丕乇 趩賳丿 芦丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖蹖禄貙 賵 芦丕賳诏蹖爻蹖禄 噩賵丕賳貙 丌賵丕乇賴 丕夭 賲蹖賴賳 禺賵蹖卮 丕爻鬲貙 讴賴 丿乇 芦倬丕乇蹖爻禄 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀� 賵 亘乇丕蹖 诏卮鬲鈥� 賵 诏匕丕乇 亘賴 芦倬丕賲倬賱賵賳丕禄蹖 芦丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕禄貙 賲蹖鈥屫辟堎嗀� 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 亘賱賳丿丕蹖 爻乇賳賵卮鬲鈥� 爻丕夭蹖 丿乇 卮讴賱诏蹖乇蹖 爻亘讴 蹖诏丕賳賴 蹖 芦賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖禄 賳蹖夭 亘賵丿賴 丕爻鬲
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賳賯賱 丕夭 賲鬲賳: (芦乇丕亘乇鬲 讴賵賴賳禄 夭賲丕賳蹖 賯賴乇賲丕賳 賲蹖丕賳 賵夭賳 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 亘賵丿貨 禺蹖丕賱 賳讴賳蹖丿 丕蹖賳 毓賳賵丕賳 乇賵蹖 賲賳貙 鬲丕孬蹖乇 夭蹖丕丿蹖 诏匕丕卮鬲賴 丕爻鬲貨 賵賱蹖 丕夭 賳馗乇 芦讴賵賴賳禄 禺蹖賱蹖 丕賴賲蹖鬲 丿丕卮鬲貨 丕賵 亘賴 賴蹖趩鈥屭嗃屫� 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 賳賲蹖鈥屫ㄘз勠屫� 賵 乇丕爻鬲卮 丕夭 丌賳 亘丿卮 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屫①呚� 丕賲丕 丌賳 乇丕 亘丕 丿賯鬲 賵 賲卮賯鬲 賮乇丕賵丕賳 蹖丕丿 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿貙 鬲丕 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇 丨爻 丨賯丕乇鬲貙 賵 卮乇賲賳丿诏蹖貙 賳爻亘鬲 亘賴 乇賮鬲丕乇蹖 讴賴貙 亘丕 丕賵 丿乇 賲賯丕賲 芦蹖賴賵丿蹖禄 賲蹖鈥屫簇� 賲賯丕亘賱賴 讴賳丿貨 丕賵 賵賯鬲蹖 賲蹖鈥屫з嗀池� 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗀� 賴乇 讴爻蹖 乇丕 讴賴 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇卮 賯丿 毓賱賲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 亘丕 囟乇亘賴鈥� 丕蹖 讴丕乇卮 乇丕 鬲賲丕賲 讴賳丿貙 亘賴 丌乇丕賲卮 丿乇賵賳蹖 賲蹖鈥屫必驰屫� 賵 趩賵賳 倬爻乇蹖 亘爻蹖丕乇 賳丕夭賳蹖賳貙 賵 禺噩丕賱鬲蹖 亘賵丿貙 亘賴 噩夭 亘丕卮诏丕賴 丿乇 賴蹖趩 噩丕 亘丕 讴爻蹖 賲亘丕乇夭賴 賳賲蹖鈥屭┴必� 丕賵 卮丕诏乇丿 丕乇卮丿 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 亘賵丿貨 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 亘賴 賴賲诏蹖 卮丕诏乇丿丕賳 噩賵丕賳 禺賵丿 蹖丕丿 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿 鬲丕 賲孬賱 爻亘讴 賵夭賳鈥屬囏� 賲亘丕乇夭賴 讴賳賳丿貨 賲賴賲 賳亘賵丿 讴賴 氐丿賵倬賳噩 倬賵賳丿 亘丕卮賳丿貙 蹖丕 丿賵蹖爻鬲 賵 倬賳噩 倬賵賳丿貨 丕賲丕 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖鈥屫必驰屫� 讴賴 丕賵 芦讴賵賴賳禄 乇丕 亘乇丕蹖 賴乇 賲賵賯毓蹖鬲蹖 丌賲丕丿賴 賲蹖鈥屭┴必� 丕賵 禺蹖賱蹖 賮乇夭 亘賵丿貨 讴丕乇卮 趩賳丕賳 禺賵亘 亘賵丿 讴賴 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇禄貙 賮賵乇丕賸 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 賲爻丕亘賯賴鈥� 賴丕蹖 夭蹖丕丿蹖 賮乇爻鬲丕丿貨 賴賲蹖卮賴 禺丿丕 賴賲 丿賲丕睾卮 乇丕 乇賵蹖 氐賵乇鬲卮 氐丕賮 賲蹖鈥屭┴必嗀� 丕蹖賳讴丕乇 亘丕毓孬 卮丿 鬲丕 亘蹖鈥屫必贺ㄘ� 芦讴賵賴賳禄 亘賴 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 亘蹖卮鈥屫� 卮賵丿貨 賵賱蹖 亘賴 賳賵毓蹖 睾乇蹖亘貙 丿乇 丿乇賵賳卮 丕乇囟丕亍 賲蹖鈥屫簇� 賵 丕蹖賳 丕賲乇 亘賴 蹖賯蹖賳 夭禺賲 丿賲丕睾卮 乇丕 亘賴亘賵丿 賲蹖鈥屫ㄘ篡屫� 丌禺乇蹖賳 爻丕賱蹖 讴賴 芦丿乇 倬乇蹖賳爻鬲賵賳禄 亘賵丿貙 亘賴 賲胤丕賱毓賴 夭蹖丕丿 乇賵蹖 丌賵乇丿 賵 毓蹖賳讴蹖 卮丿貨 鬲丕 丌賳噩丕 讴賴 賲賳 蹖丕丿賲 賲蹖鈥屫③屫� 賴乇诏夭 讴爻蹖 丕夭 賴賲 丿賵乇賴鈥� 賴丕蹖 丕賵 乇丕 賳丿蹖丿賴鈥� 丕賲 讴賴 丕賵 乇丕 蹖丕丿卮丕賳 亘丕卮丿貨 丌賳鈥屬囏� 丨鬲丕 蹖丕丿卮丕賳 賳賲蹖鈥屫①呚� 讴賴 丕賵 賯賴乇賲丕賳 賲蹖丕賳 賵夭賳 賲卮鬲鈥屫操嗃� 丕爻鬲
賲賳 亘賴 丌丿賲鈥屬囏й� 爻丕丿賴 賵 乇讴貙 亘賴 禺氐賵氐 賵賯鬲蹖 讴賴 丿丕爻鬲丕賳鈥屬囏й屫簇з� 毓蹖賳 賴賲 亘丕卮丿貙 丕毓鬲賲丕丿蹖 賳丿丕乇賲 賵 賴賲賵丕乇賴 亘丿诏賲丕賳 亘賵丿賲 讴賴 芦乇丕亘乇鬲 讴賵賴賳禄 丨鬲丕 賯賴乇賲丕賳 賲蹖丕賳 賵夭賳 賲卮鬲 夭賳蹖 亘賵丿賴 亘丕卮丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 丕爻亘蹖 丿賲丕睾 丕賵 乇丕 賱賴 讴乇丿賴貙 蹖丕 賲丕丿乇卮 丕夭 趩蹖夭蹖 鬲乇爻蹖丿賴 亘賵丿貨 賲賲讴賳 丕爻鬲 賵賯鬲蹖 鬲丕夭賴 倬丕 賲蹖鈥屭辟佖囏� 亘賴 噩丕蹖蹖 禺賵乇丿賴貨 賵賱蹖 丌禺乇 爻乇 讴爻蹖 乇丕 倬蹖丿丕 讴乇丿賲貙 讴賴 丕夭 夭亘丕賳 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 氐丨鬲 賲賵囟賵毓 乇丕 鬲丕蹖蹖丿 讴乇丿貨 芦丕爻倬丕蹖丿乇 讴賱蹖禄 賳賴 鬲賳賴丕 芦讴賵賴賳禄 乇丕 賮乇丕賲賵卮 賳讴乇丿賴 亘賵丿貙 丕睾賱亘 噩賵蹖丕 亘賵丿 讴賴 趩賴 丕鬲賮丕賯蹖 亘乇丕蹖卮 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 丕爻鬲)貨 倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 16/10/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 22/07/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
September 24, 2021
The Sun Also Rises has about it an aura of the time long gone 鈥� lost days of the lost generation. It seems to be more a chronicle or a diary than a novel 鈥� mostly about what the personages ate and drank... And a wee bit about life鈥�
If one turns one鈥檚 life into a movable feast there鈥檚 no time to stop and think.
I can鈥檛 stand it to think my life is going so fast and I鈥檓 not really living it.
If one turns one鈥檚 life into a movable feast there鈥檚 no time to stop and think.
July 7, 2023
The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway鈥檚 brilliant 1926 novel about the Lost Generation is a must read for Twentieth Century literature.
I was assigned this as a junior in college, our English professor told us to read it and to be prepared to talk next week. The next class was spent on students describing their thoughts about the novel and what we thought it meant. With a smug smile and somewhat of a condescending air, the instructor stepped form his podium and said something to the effect that readers had been missing the point for decades.
This was my first experience with an unreliable narrator. Literature would never be the same again.
Complex and told on many levels, this also contains some of the most archetypal characters in all of modern literature, highlighted by the inimitable Lady Brett. Dangerous and contrary to Hemingway鈥檚 ideals of masculine superiority, Lady Brett Ashley would be recreated somewhat in his later story 鈥淭he Short Happy Life of Frances Macomber."
2023 reread -
Imagine being invited to a rich person鈥檚 home. The residence is immaculate, the serving staff are gracious and hospitable, the hosts are kind and formally accepting. Everyone is very nice and the setting is genteel and pleasant. And then you realize that there are no chairs, none at all; unless you choose to sit on the floor, there is no where to sit. There are also no refreshments. When asked, the host replies that unfortunately there are no public restrooms. Everyone is standing and you then realize everyone is waiting for you to leave. With smiles and courteous platitudes you are escorted out and you hear the lock click behind you as you depart.
Hemingway serves us up a subtle invitation to a fiesta, but it is for a club of which we do not belong. We are invited guests, but we are not truly welcome, and though our host is polite and observes all of the requisite etiquette, we never feel comfortable here and that is by design. Our guide describes for us a tension, an unsettling and inhospitable crisis between friends and lovers and we are voyeurs, being a spectator to a bloody bullfight that we are ill equipped to witness.
A masterpiece certainly, a book in the high atmosphere of literary greatness and yet one that can easily deceive the reader and leave its audience with an uncertainty, like receiving a firm handshake and a winning smile, only in passing realizing that the one smiling and warmly shaking your hand had been crying and was only just holding it all together.
This was my first experience with an unreliable narrator. In most books, the narrator is on our side, they are a guide for us to the action of the story. Frequently they are also the protagonist and the tale is of and / or about them. Hemingway was too good to leave it at that and our narrator mostly tells the truth, sometimes with fastidious accuracy. But an observant reader will see the signs and will question which statements are correct and which have been tainted with bias and jealousy. More than that, we are allowed to see not just the fine tapestries and expensive settings, but also a glimpse into the back rooms where hypocrisy, cruelty and inhumanity dwell and lurk.
This is filled with colorful, memorable characters. The most obvious standouts are Jake and Lady Brett, but Robert Cohn, Bill Gorton, Mike Campbell, Frances Clyne and Romero and Belmonte are also mesmerizing and from these oblique vantages we see Hemingway鈥檚 genius demonstrated.
First published in 1926, when Ernest was 27, this is the story of the Lost Generation and its convoluted presentation has been fascinating and confusing readers for almost a hundred years and will likely continue for time unknown ahead. This is a fairly timeless story about love and loss and war and heartbreak and class distinctions and being involved in something that you can nonetheless never truly be a part.
This is after all Hemingway and there are also excellent outdoor scenes and fine descriptions of fishing and bullfights. While this aspect of the book will likely get little attention, this demonstrates Hemingway鈥檚 unique ability to convey the spirit of action and here we see some of his best sports writing.
Sex. Hemingway describes Brett as a modern woman, unfettered by conventional moralities, but the author goes further and shows how sex, not just romantic love, can also be a cruelly divisive element in this society.
We can understand the human costs of this drama, but we will never be a part of this generation and so can never truly, fully understand. We are invited to see and experience but not to stay.
I was assigned this as a junior in college, our English professor told us to read it and to be prepared to talk next week. The next class was spent on students describing their thoughts about the novel and what we thought it meant. With a smug smile and somewhat of a condescending air, the instructor stepped form his podium and said something to the effect that readers had been missing the point for decades.
This was my first experience with an unreliable narrator. Literature would never be the same again.
Complex and told on many levels, this also contains some of the most archetypal characters in all of modern literature, highlighted by the inimitable Lady Brett. Dangerous and contrary to Hemingway鈥檚 ideals of masculine superiority, Lady Brett Ashley would be recreated somewhat in his later story 鈥淭he Short Happy Life of Frances Macomber."
2023 reread -
Imagine being invited to a rich person鈥檚 home. The residence is immaculate, the serving staff are gracious and hospitable, the hosts are kind and formally accepting. Everyone is very nice and the setting is genteel and pleasant. And then you realize that there are no chairs, none at all; unless you choose to sit on the floor, there is no where to sit. There are also no refreshments. When asked, the host replies that unfortunately there are no public restrooms. Everyone is standing and you then realize everyone is waiting for you to leave. With smiles and courteous platitudes you are escorted out and you hear the lock click behind you as you depart.
Hemingway serves us up a subtle invitation to a fiesta, but it is for a club of which we do not belong. We are invited guests, but we are not truly welcome, and though our host is polite and observes all of the requisite etiquette, we never feel comfortable here and that is by design. Our guide describes for us a tension, an unsettling and inhospitable crisis between friends and lovers and we are voyeurs, being a spectator to a bloody bullfight that we are ill equipped to witness.
A masterpiece certainly, a book in the high atmosphere of literary greatness and yet one that can easily deceive the reader and leave its audience with an uncertainty, like receiving a firm handshake and a winning smile, only in passing realizing that the one smiling and warmly shaking your hand had been crying and was only just holding it all together.
This was my first experience with an unreliable narrator. In most books, the narrator is on our side, they are a guide for us to the action of the story. Frequently they are also the protagonist and the tale is of and / or about them. Hemingway was too good to leave it at that and our narrator mostly tells the truth, sometimes with fastidious accuracy. But an observant reader will see the signs and will question which statements are correct and which have been tainted with bias and jealousy. More than that, we are allowed to see not just the fine tapestries and expensive settings, but also a glimpse into the back rooms where hypocrisy, cruelty and inhumanity dwell and lurk.
This is filled with colorful, memorable characters. The most obvious standouts are Jake and Lady Brett, but Robert Cohn, Bill Gorton, Mike Campbell, Frances Clyne and Romero and Belmonte are also mesmerizing and from these oblique vantages we see Hemingway鈥檚 genius demonstrated.
First published in 1926, when Ernest was 27, this is the story of the Lost Generation and its convoluted presentation has been fascinating and confusing readers for almost a hundred years and will likely continue for time unknown ahead. This is a fairly timeless story about love and loss and war and heartbreak and class distinctions and being involved in something that you can nonetheless never truly be a part.
This is after all Hemingway and there are also excellent outdoor scenes and fine descriptions of fishing and bullfights. While this aspect of the book will likely get little attention, this demonstrates Hemingway鈥檚 unique ability to convey the spirit of action and here we see some of his best sports writing.
Sex. Hemingway describes Brett as a modern woman, unfettered by conventional moralities, but the author goes further and shows how sex, not just romantic love, can also be a cruelly divisive element in this society.
We can understand the human costs of this drama, but we will never be a part of this generation and so can never truly, fully understand. We are invited to see and experience but not to stay.
January 7, 2019
fulfilling book riot's 2018 read harder challenge task #24: An assigned book you hated (or never finished)
the three-star rating is from my first go-round - from my memory of reading it in high school, and seems higher than the truth. let's see how karen enjoys this tale of a busted-peen, weary expatriates and bullfighting as an adult.
*
obviously this was going to be the read harder task i saved for last. i can hold a book-grudge as well as anyone, and i don鈥檛 need to be wasting any of my precious reading-time on a book that has already displeased me once. but i approached the task in good faith - of all the books i have ever been assigned in my life, there were only two i could remember disliking* - this (AP english junior year) and (honors english 8th grade). since i have loved every other steinbeck i have read but as far as hemingway goes, i've only read this (and maybe a short story here or there), it seemed more magnanimous to give papa a shot with an older, wiser karen.
older, wiser karen didn鈥檛 love it, either. older wiser karen has read and so has very little patience for any tale of the romantic or platonic entanglements of a buncha boozy and worldweary expats that is not as beautifully written as .
however, you can play a fun drinking game with this one using the endless repetition of words like 鈥榮well鈥� and 鈥榗hap鈥� and 鈥榯ight鈥� or a game of millennial outrage bingo for all the occurrences of 鈥榥igger鈥� and 鈥榝aggot鈥� and the baked-in misogyny and anti-semitic flavor. although it鈥檚 possible that it鈥檚 not anti-semitic so much as it is characters disliking one particular jewish character who, it must be said, is pretty irritating - smug, clingy, thirsty.
on that last point, everyone in this whole damn book is thirsty in the non-slang sense. there is some truly heroic drinking going on in this book - one imagines a row of rotting livers wincing at the excess鈥�
鈥淭his is a good place," he said.
"There's a lot of liquor," I agreed.鈥澨�
why this was/is assigned at a high school level is bewildering (unless as a cautionary tale to teen drinking). assigning books like this is what makes teens think they hate reading. there鈥檚 nothing in this that speaks to a teen audience. sure, teens can read it, understand the words, identify the themes, but that鈥檚 the work part of it without the pleasure. there just isn鈥檛 anything here to relate to, for that age. kids full to the brim with sexual sap aren鈥檛 going to appreciate the incel woes of a man with a war-wounded peen resignedly drowning his feels for a vigorous lusty woman. obsessive love, yes, but the quiet sputtering disappointment of said obsessive love? bitch, please. you give those kids what they want - you feed their need for drama and trauma - you give them , you give them , you give them everybody鈥檚 dead and ruined and glamorously broken by the end, not just some dusty guy drifting from place to place watching a woman burn (figuratively).
this book is exhausting. it is about exhaustion - emotional, moral, physical, romantic, spiritual, intellectual exhaustion. the one thing i 飞补蝉苍鈥檛 when i was 16 was exhausted. and while i am exhausted now, as weary and brokendown as many of the grinning-through-it characters in this book, it didn鈥檛 leave any particular impression on me this time, either. is this a book report yet? probably not, but it鈥檚 what you鈥檙e getting.
three stars because why not?
*and also , but i already gave that asshole his second chance.
the three-star rating is from my first go-round - from my memory of reading it in high school, and seems higher than the truth. let's see how karen enjoys this tale of a busted-peen, weary expatriates and bullfighting as an adult.
*
obviously this was going to be the read harder task i saved for last. i can hold a book-grudge as well as anyone, and i don鈥檛 need to be wasting any of my precious reading-time on a book that has already displeased me once. but i approached the task in good faith - of all the books i have ever been assigned in my life, there were only two i could remember disliking* - this (AP english junior year) and (honors english 8th grade). since i have loved every other steinbeck i have read but as far as hemingway goes, i've only read this (and maybe a short story here or there), it seemed more magnanimous to give papa a shot with an older, wiser karen.
older, wiser karen didn鈥檛 love it, either. older wiser karen has read and so has very little patience for any tale of the romantic or platonic entanglements of a buncha boozy and worldweary expats that is not as beautifully written as .
however, you can play a fun drinking game with this one using the endless repetition of words like 鈥榮well鈥� and 鈥榗hap鈥� and 鈥榯ight鈥� or a game of millennial outrage bingo for all the occurrences of 鈥榥igger鈥� and 鈥榝aggot鈥� and the baked-in misogyny and anti-semitic flavor. although it鈥檚 possible that it鈥檚 not anti-semitic so much as it is characters disliking one particular jewish character who, it must be said, is pretty irritating - smug, clingy, thirsty.
on that last point, everyone in this whole damn book is thirsty in the non-slang sense. there is some truly heroic drinking going on in this book - one imagines a row of rotting livers wincing at the excess鈥�
鈥淭his is a good place," he said.
"There's a lot of liquor," I agreed.鈥澨�
why this was/is assigned at a high school level is bewildering (unless as a cautionary tale to teen drinking). assigning books like this is what makes teens think they hate reading. there鈥檚 nothing in this that speaks to a teen audience. sure, teens can read it, understand the words, identify the themes, but that鈥檚 the work part of it without the pleasure. there just isn鈥檛 anything here to relate to, for that age. kids full to the brim with sexual sap aren鈥檛 going to appreciate the incel woes of a man with a war-wounded peen resignedly drowning his feels for a vigorous lusty woman. obsessive love, yes, but the quiet sputtering disappointment of said obsessive love? bitch, please. you give those kids what they want - you feed their need for drama and trauma - you give them , you give them , you give them everybody鈥檚 dead and ruined and glamorously broken by the end, not just some dusty guy drifting from place to place watching a woman burn (figuratively).
this book is exhausting. it is about exhaustion - emotional, moral, physical, romantic, spiritual, intellectual exhaustion. the one thing i 飞补蝉苍鈥檛 when i was 16 was exhausted. and while i am exhausted now, as weary and brokendown as many of the grinning-through-it characters in this book, it didn鈥檛 leave any particular impression on me this time, either. is this a book report yet? probably not, but it鈥檚 what you鈥檙e getting.
three stars because why not?
*and also , but i already gave that asshole his second chance.
April 21, 2011
There鈥檚 a very nice restaurant that my wife and I frequent that has become our go-to spot for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries. When we first started going here, I saw that they were serving absinthe. I鈥檇 been curious about the drink since first reading Hemingway鈥檚 descriptions of it in The Sun Also Rises back in high school.
Banned for most of the twentieth century in the U.S. for wildly exaggerated claims of it鈥檚 hallucinogenic qualities, it was made available to be imported here again in 2007. When I saw it on the menu, my mind immediately conjured images of Hemingway and his fellow expatriates sipping it in Paris with ironic detachment. (The restaurant even features a Hemingway inspired version mixed with champagne that鈥檚 called Death in the Afternoon.) I wanted to try some, but it鈥檚 $12 a glass, which seemed a bit pricey for the sake of literary cocktail experimentation. And I gotta admit that I was slightly nervous about having some kind of absinthe-based freak-out.
However, I鈥檝e been on a Jazz Age book kick lately, and a few weeks back when we were having dinner at this place, I finally said to hell with it and ordered a glass. The waiter asked if I鈥檇 tried it before and must have had some bad experiences with newbies drinking it. I promised him I was indulging for purely experimental purposes and would not hold him responsible.
So he brought the absinthe out and did the whole bit with the special spoon and the sugar cube. I would have been lost there except I鈥檇 seen Johnny Depp do this routine in From Hell.
Finally, I tried my first sip.
It tasted like a combination of black licorice and what I can only assume is the flavor of rotting corpses. And I hate black licorice so much that I almost would have preferred just the rotting corpse taste.
However, when you pay $12 for a drink, you choke that mother down. So I drank it, cursing Hemingway the entire time and wishing I could dig his body up and reanimate him so I could give him another shotgun blast to the face for ever putting the idea of drinking that vile stuff into my head in the first place.
Oh, and that night, I had some of the most fucked up nightmares I鈥檝e had in years so maybe the hallucinogenic qualities weren鈥檛 exaggerated all that much.
So when I was re-reading The Sun Also Rises and Jake gets completely hammered on absinthe, I almost tossed my cookies as the memory of that black licorice flavored corpse came back to me. Repeated exposure to that drink would also explain why Jake would put up with Brett鈥檚 routine. Your junk doesn鈥檛 work but you keep hanging out with the woman who claims to love you but demands your help in hooking up with other men? I would have been on a boat to Antarctica to get away from her man-eating ass, but he was deranged from drinking that shit.
This book is still pretty damn good, but I鈥檓 deducting a star just because it tricked me into trying absinthe. Take that, Hemingway!
Banned for most of the twentieth century in the U.S. for wildly exaggerated claims of it鈥檚 hallucinogenic qualities, it was made available to be imported here again in 2007. When I saw it on the menu, my mind immediately conjured images of Hemingway and his fellow expatriates sipping it in Paris with ironic detachment. (The restaurant even features a Hemingway inspired version mixed with champagne that鈥檚 called Death in the Afternoon.) I wanted to try some, but it鈥檚 $12 a glass, which seemed a bit pricey for the sake of literary cocktail experimentation. And I gotta admit that I was slightly nervous about having some kind of absinthe-based freak-out.
However, I鈥檝e been on a Jazz Age book kick lately, and a few weeks back when we were having dinner at this place, I finally said to hell with it and ordered a glass. The waiter asked if I鈥檇 tried it before and must have had some bad experiences with newbies drinking it. I promised him I was indulging for purely experimental purposes and would not hold him responsible.
So he brought the absinthe out and did the whole bit with the special spoon and the sugar cube. I would have been lost there except I鈥檇 seen Johnny Depp do this routine in From Hell.
Finally, I tried my first sip.
It tasted like a combination of black licorice and what I can only assume is the flavor of rotting corpses. And I hate black licorice so much that I almost would have preferred just the rotting corpse taste.
However, when you pay $12 for a drink, you choke that mother down. So I drank it, cursing Hemingway the entire time and wishing I could dig his body up and reanimate him so I could give him another shotgun blast to the face for ever putting the idea of drinking that vile stuff into my head in the first place.
Oh, and that night, I had some of the most fucked up nightmares I鈥檝e had in years so maybe the hallucinogenic qualities weren鈥檛 exaggerated all that much.
So when I was re-reading The Sun Also Rises and Jake gets completely hammered on absinthe, I almost tossed my cookies as the memory of that black licorice flavored corpse came back to me. Repeated exposure to that drink would also explain why Jake would put up with Brett鈥檚 routine. Your junk doesn鈥檛 work but you keep hanging out with the woman who claims to love you but demands your help in hooking up with other men? I would have been on a boat to Antarctica to get away from her man-eating ass, but he was deranged from drinking that shit.
This book is still pretty damn good, but I鈥檓 deducting a star just because it tricked me into trying absinthe. Take that, Hemingway!
January 10, 2022
When I think "work of classic literature from 1926 written by the kinda old white guy whose books single-handedly populate the syllabi of the cool English teachers the freshman girls have crushes on," I don't assume I will pick that novel up, be unable to put it down, finish it extremely quickly, and give it almost five stars.
(Also, as a former member of the aforementioned freshman girls, I'm qualified to make that assertion.)
Sometimes, people who don't rate books critically look at the ratings of myself or others like me and say, "Pick books you'll actually like, then." Or, "Someone doesn't know how to decide what to read."
And in response to them I say: to the former - I'm trying, and to the latter - correct.
I never know what I'll like, because I like everything and nothing. I have been known to read in every genre and to be disappointed by the ones I read most. I have tried picking up authors I've always liked to be treated to a garbage fire, and authors I've despised have written some of my yearly favorites. When it comes to reading I have learned to live and let live and hope for the best.
Which is why I should have picked this up sooner.
I owned this book for 6 years and never even considered picking it up. I assumed I wouldn't like it, but I picked it up to be delighted by the following:
- beautiful, clean writing
- a plot I was invested in
- characters who interested me from the first page to the last, from our protagonist to every supporting character
There were things I have historically hated reading about (bullfighting) that this time I found enjoyable. There were tropes I've always detested (cheating and affairs and what have you) that didn't bother me in the least. There were clich茅s of the time (melancholy men and the women whose love they feel entitled to) done differently enough to be a pleasure.
I'm still in a state of disbelief.
Bottom line: This is my first Ernest Hemingway book, but baby, it won't be my last!!!
---------------
pre-review
i've owned this book for six years and i've meant to read it for even longer and never once in all that time did i expect to like it this much.
review to come / 4.5 stars
---------------
currently-reading updates
feeling: scholarly.
clear ur sh*t book 40
quest 19: a book you forgot you owned
---------------
tbr review
i've never read an ernest hemingway book, but i have had two of them on my owned tbr for six years. so that's kind of the same thing
(Also, as a former member of the aforementioned freshman girls, I'm qualified to make that assertion.)
Sometimes, people who don't rate books critically look at the ratings of myself or others like me and say, "Pick books you'll actually like, then." Or, "Someone doesn't know how to decide what to read."
And in response to them I say: to the former - I'm trying, and to the latter - correct.
I never know what I'll like, because I like everything and nothing. I have been known to read in every genre and to be disappointed by the ones I read most. I have tried picking up authors I've always liked to be treated to a garbage fire, and authors I've despised have written some of my yearly favorites. When it comes to reading I have learned to live and let live and hope for the best.
Which is why I should have picked this up sooner.
I owned this book for 6 years and never even considered picking it up. I assumed I wouldn't like it, but I picked it up to be delighted by the following:
- beautiful, clean writing
- a plot I was invested in
- characters who interested me from the first page to the last, from our protagonist to every supporting character
There were things I have historically hated reading about (bullfighting) that this time I found enjoyable. There were tropes I've always detested (cheating and affairs and what have you) that didn't bother me in the least. There were clich茅s of the time (melancholy men and the women whose love they feel entitled to) done differently enough to be a pleasure.
I'm still in a state of disbelief.
Bottom line: This is my first Ernest Hemingway book, but baby, it won't be my last!!!
---------------
pre-review
i've owned this book for six years and i've meant to read it for even longer and never once in all that time did i expect to like it this much.
review to come / 4.5 stars
---------------
currently-reading updates
feeling: scholarly.
clear ur sh*t book 40
quest 19: a book you forgot you owned
---------------
tbr review
i've never read an ernest hemingway book, but i have had two of them on my owned tbr for six years. so that's kind of the same thing
December 8, 2023
鉁嶐煆� The Style 鉁嶐煆�
You have to like his somewhat flat unemotional journalistic style applied to the novel to enjoy him. This is a good story but as I say you have to be able to ease into his dispassionate almost ironic approach, the approach of an observer who cares about what they are seeing but remains somewhat distant.
I recall a friend saying they had read Hemingway for the first time but assumed it had been an earlier work because his style seemed undeveloped. When I told them that was his style they鈥檇 heard everyone talking about they were surprised and disappointed.
I would say his style works well in several cases. When a soldier is watching blood drip from a ragged wound and expresses no emotional connection to casualties and the horrors of war it carries a strong impact. When the old man is fighting off the sharks and it鈥檚 described in that same flat tone it has a certain power more descriptive and emotive language would not have.
Everyone has their tastes. You see that diversity every day on 欧宝娱乐. Ernest is embraced or not.
[Admittedly, this is less a review of the novel than a review of Hem鈥檚 writing style. I will rectify this oversight with a fresh rereading of the novel and a new review focused on the storyline.]
馃摎 Some short Hemingways I would recommend are: Big Two Hearted River 1 & 2; The Snows of Kilimanjaro; The Old Man and the Sea; any of the Nick Adams stories set in a rural America (Idaho) of the 1930s; any of his pieces on writing.
You have to like his somewhat flat unemotional journalistic style applied to the novel to enjoy him. This is a good story but as I say you have to be able to ease into his dispassionate almost ironic approach, the approach of an observer who cares about what they are seeing but remains somewhat distant.
I recall a friend saying they had read Hemingway for the first time but assumed it had been an earlier work because his style seemed undeveloped. When I told them that was his style they鈥檇 heard everyone talking about they were surprised and disappointed.
I would say his style works well in several cases. When a soldier is watching blood drip from a ragged wound and expresses no emotional connection to casualties and the horrors of war it carries a strong impact. When the old man is fighting off the sharks and it鈥檚 described in that same flat tone it has a certain power more descriptive and emotive language would not have.
Everyone has their tastes. You see that diversity every day on 欧宝娱乐. Ernest is embraced or not.
[Admittedly, this is less a review of the novel than a review of Hem鈥檚 writing style. I will rectify this oversight with a fresh rereading of the novel and a new review focused on the storyline.]
馃摎 Some short Hemingways I would recommend are: Big Two Hearted River 1 & 2; The Snows of Kilimanjaro; The Old Man and the Sea; any of the Nick Adams stories set in a rural America (Idaho) of the 1930s; any of his pieces on writing.
February 24, 2019
"Don't you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you're not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you've lived nearly half the time you have to live already?"
Looking through my copy of The Sun Also Rises, I believe it is the most quotable Hemingway I have read. Line after line resonates with me on the deepest level possible. I used to think the Lost Generation represented a unique time in history, and I was vaguely jealous of their beautiful misery. The older I get, the more I believe this is the universal novel describing the human condition. The hardboiled by day, broken by night attitude to life hurts and attracts. As a person who has been dragging myself along from country to country, I know Hemingway was right when he said you can't escape yourself by moving.
But you can build that fashionable surface of the glorious expatriate - which haunts you by night.
Wonderful, wonderful prose!
Looking through my copy of The Sun Also Rises, I believe it is the most quotable Hemingway I have read. Line after line resonates with me on the deepest level possible. I used to think the Lost Generation represented a unique time in history, and I was vaguely jealous of their beautiful misery. The older I get, the more I believe this is the universal novel describing the human condition. The hardboiled by day, broken by night attitude to life hurts and attracts. As a person who has been dragging myself along from country to country, I know Hemingway was right when he said you can't escape yourself by moving.
But you can build that fashionable surface of the glorious expatriate - which haunts you by night.
Wonderful, wonderful prose!
March 31, 2024
It must be me. Ernest Hemingway is an esteemed author and is one of his many books that gets very high ratings.
I decided to read this book because I will be hiking the 500 mile Camino de Santiago in Spain. Many pilgrims on the Camino refer to in their memoirs due to the reference of the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I will be spending time in Pamplona and thought this book would give me insight into Spain and Pamplona.
The book seemed to meander and the use of the "n" word was jarring. It wasn't my cup of tea.
I encourage readers to read the many varied reviews about this book.
I decided to read this book because I will be hiking the 500 mile Camino de Santiago in Spain. Many pilgrims on the Camino refer to in their memoirs due to the reference of the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I will be spending time in Pamplona and thought this book would give me insight into Spain and Pamplona.
The book seemed to meander and the use of the "n" word was jarring. It wasn't my cup of tea.
I encourage readers to read the many varied reviews about this book.
June 30, 2024
Reposting in conjunction with the annual "running of the bulls" in Pamplona, Spain, where much of this novel takes place.
鈥淓veryone behaves badly鈥濃€擩ake
鈥淵ou are all a lost generation鈥濃€擥ertrude Stein
Since I had just found Everyone Behaves Badly: The Story Behind the Making of The Sun Also Rises; since I was meeting up with friend BC, who wrote his MA thesis on this book; since I was flying from Chicago to Palm Springs to participate in a 鈥渂achelor鈥檚 party鈥� this weekend, and because the kind of excessive and regrettable bad behavior depicted in the book is also a feature of bachelor鈥檚 parties and I thought it would be interesting to reflect on that IN that process, I decided to pull this classic novel off the shelf, dust it off and reread it on the plane there. I had the luxury of basically reading it in one sitting!
The story takes place from Paris to Pamplona during the Fiesta we know now as featuring The Running of the Bulls. The centerpiece of the story is a woman, Lady Brett Ashley, whom my noir reading leads me to identify as Hemingway's characterization of a femme fatale, who ignites (or sometimes merely walks into a room and watches) a lot of drunken, jealous bad behavior over her, the young men lying in waste at her feet.
鈥淪he takes her razor from her boot, and a thousand pigeons fall around her feet鈥濃€擳om Waits
There鈥檚 a lot of funny drinking talk and bar stories in this book that begin to wear on you over time, as they will and should, as Hem would have you experience it, as you learn to pay attention to the underlying tensions between various men over their fatal attraction to this strikingly attractive 34-year old woman. Jake, our American journalist Hem-based hero, injured 鈥渄own there鈥� during the war, would be Lady Brett's lover, but he can鈥檛 consummate their love, and sex is apparently part of the regular daily diet of Brett with, among others, Mike, her Scottish fianc茅; Bill, Jake鈥檚 American fishing buddy; Robert Cohn, the writer and amateur boxer whose skills in the latter figure in a scene we build toward in the whole book, and Pedro Romero, a 19-year old bull fighter, with a true passion for bullfighting, and, as it turns out, older women. Jake is still in love with Brett, but kind of just watches in anguish as this train wreck unfolds.
When I was reading it in my early twenties I wanted to be one of those expatriates, reading and writing and drinking my way through Europe with other people my age, and I did go there in my twenties to zig zag across the continent and hang out with people from all over the place, and over the years have traveled from Paris to Pamplona, from Florence to London, from Amsterdam to Zurich, my backpack on my back. But now I feel less charitable about these folks behaving badly, and see this bad-behaving as largely the point of the book this time around.
鈥淵ou're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake European standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed with sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes.鈥�
This 鈥渓ostness鈥� of people living in 鈥渁rrested development,鈥� not sure what their futures hold, not sure how to live their lives, aching for something that happens to be largely fleeting. Hemingway鈥檚 departures from the drunken lust--classic descriptions of fishing and Romero鈥檚 bullfighting (yes, I know they are murdering bulls)--have a kind of (intended) purity to cleanse the palate of Jake, who at one point, sick of it all, says 鈥淭o hell with people鈥�. Hemingway鈥檚 moral/social code gets established early on: Independence, faithfulness, connections to nature, and acute powers of observation.
鈥淚n the morning I walked down the Boulevard to the rue Soufflot for coffee and brioche. It was a fine morning. The horse-chestnut trees in the Luxembourg gardens were in bloom. There was the pleasant early-morning feeling of a hot day. I read the papers with the coffee and then smoked a cigarette. The flower-women were coming up from the market and arranging their daily stock. Students went by going up to the law school, or down to the Sorbonne. The Boulevard was busy with trams and people going to work.鈥�
I think this may be only my third time reading it; while I think this is BC鈥檚 favorite Hem, I have liked A Farewell to Arms, Old Man and the Sea and (especially) the stories better. But despite the fact that Hem damaged a lot of friendships by writing this book (the fictional characters were thinly disguised portraits of all the friends he drank with there), it is nevertheless really well-written, has passages in it lyrical enough to bring tears to your eyes, and is in my opinion still one one of the greats of American literature, a companion for other tales of misguided desire and wrecked lives, such as F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby and Tender is the Night.
鈥淥h Jake," Brett said, "We could have had such a damned good time together."
Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly, pressing Brett against me.
"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?鈥濃€擲un
Uh.
鈥淓veryone behaves badly鈥濃€擩ake
鈥淵ou are all a lost generation鈥濃€擥ertrude Stein
Since I had just found Everyone Behaves Badly: The Story Behind the Making of The Sun Also Rises; since I was meeting up with friend BC, who wrote his MA thesis on this book; since I was flying from Chicago to Palm Springs to participate in a 鈥渂achelor鈥檚 party鈥� this weekend, and because the kind of excessive and regrettable bad behavior depicted in the book is also a feature of bachelor鈥檚 parties and I thought it would be interesting to reflect on that IN that process, I decided to pull this classic novel off the shelf, dust it off and reread it on the plane there. I had the luxury of basically reading it in one sitting!
The story takes place from Paris to Pamplona during the Fiesta we know now as featuring The Running of the Bulls. The centerpiece of the story is a woman, Lady Brett Ashley, whom my noir reading leads me to identify as Hemingway's characterization of a femme fatale, who ignites (or sometimes merely walks into a room and watches) a lot of drunken, jealous bad behavior over her, the young men lying in waste at her feet.
鈥淪he takes her razor from her boot, and a thousand pigeons fall around her feet鈥濃€擳om Waits
There鈥檚 a lot of funny drinking talk and bar stories in this book that begin to wear on you over time, as they will and should, as Hem would have you experience it, as you learn to pay attention to the underlying tensions between various men over their fatal attraction to this strikingly attractive 34-year old woman. Jake, our American journalist Hem-based hero, injured 鈥渄own there鈥� during the war, would be Lady Brett's lover, but he can鈥檛 consummate their love, and sex is apparently part of the regular daily diet of Brett with, among others, Mike, her Scottish fianc茅; Bill, Jake鈥檚 American fishing buddy; Robert Cohn, the writer and amateur boxer whose skills in the latter figure in a scene we build toward in the whole book, and Pedro Romero, a 19-year old bull fighter, with a true passion for bullfighting, and, as it turns out, older women. Jake is still in love with Brett, but kind of just watches in anguish as this train wreck unfolds.
When I was reading it in my early twenties I wanted to be one of those expatriates, reading and writing and drinking my way through Europe with other people my age, and I did go there in my twenties to zig zag across the continent and hang out with people from all over the place, and over the years have traveled from Paris to Pamplona, from Florence to London, from Amsterdam to Zurich, my backpack on my back. But now I feel less charitable about these folks behaving badly, and see this bad-behaving as largely the point of the book this time around.
鈥淵ou're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake European standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed with sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes.鈥�
This 鈥渓ostness鈥� of people living in 鈥渁rrested development,鈥� not sure what their futures hold, not sure how to live their lives, aching for something that happens to be largely fleeting. Hemingway鈥檚 departures from the drunken lust--classic descriptions of fishing and Romero鈥檚 bullfighting (yes, I know they are murdering bulls)--have a kind of (intended) purity to cleanse the palate of Jake, who at one point, sick of it all, says 鈥淭o hell with people鈥�. Hemingway鈥檚 moral/social code gets established early on: Independence, faithfulness, connections to nature, and acute powers of observation.
鈥淚n the morning I walked down the Boulevard to the rue Soufflot for coffee and brioche. It was a fine morning. The horse-chestnut trees in the Luxembourg gardens were in bloom. There was the pleasant early-morning feeling of a hot day. I read the papers with the coffee and then smoked a cigarette. The flower-women were coming up from the market and arranging their daily stock. Students went by going up to the law school, or down to the Sorbonne. The Boulevard was busy with trams and people going to work.鈥�
I think this may be only my third time reading it; while I think this is BC鈥檚 favorite Hem, I have liked A Farewell to Arms, Old Man and the Sea and (especially) the stories better. But despite the fact that Hem damaged a lot of friendships by writing this book (the fictional characters were thinly disguised portraits of all the friends he drank with there), it is nevertheless really well-written, has passages in it lyrical enough to bring tears to your eyes, and is in my opinion still one one of the greats of American literature, a companion for other tales of misguided desire and wrecked lives, such as F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby and Tender is the Night.
鈥淥h Jake," Brett said, "We could have had such a damned good time together."
Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly, pressing Brett against me.
"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?鈥濃€擲un
Uh.
June 12, 2007
I think there is something cheesey about reviewing an old book, but I felt I had to write something, as I constructed my senior thesis in college with this book as the cornerstone, I have read it at least six times, and I consider The Sun Also Rises to be the Great American Novel. Why?
1) Hemingway was, if nothing else, a great American. A renaissance man, a soldier, a fisherman, and a sportswriter, a romantic and an argumentatively direct chauvinist, a conflicted religious agnostic who never abandoned religion (and, it could be argued, never wrote about anything but his conflicts with religion), Hemingway was a stereotype red-blooded American like no other great writer. An argument could be made for Fitzgerald, but the crux of that argument lies in his relationship to Hemingway (and his psychotic wife. By the way, I love Fitzgerald. He is just a touch wordy).
2) The Sun Also Rises describes (among other things) disillusionment with the "American Way" and what that had come to mean (especially emphasized through the walking wounded, contrasted always with previous generations' "Dulce et decorum est pro patria more" mentality). Unlike other similarly-themed novels, however, the book does not take place in America. I postulate the Great American Novel must take place somewhere other than America, to reveal the way in which Americans can be defined as such anywhere, and to ephasize said disillusionment. I have other reasons to think thus, but suffice to say for the moment.
3) The Sun Also Rises does not end so drastically as other great works of Hemingway's, such as A Farewell to Arms (not afraid to say I shed tears at the end of that one) or For Whom the Bell Tolls. His best ending was in Old Man and the Sea, but that work (at the risk of sounding blasphemous here) was slightly too poppy to be his best.
4) The book does not begin with the narrator (the opening describing Robert Cohen). Americans exist in relationship to one another. The country has been built through a competitive spirit- fostered by democracy and that ideal we call "The American Dream". The backlash of all that is a natural inclination to "Keep up with the Jones'," as it were. Jake Barnes is an observer, separated from the Americans and from the Europeans yet constantly comparing himself, directly or by insinuation, to others.
In short, read the damn book. If you don't get it, read it again. It is arguable (perhaps, though I doubt it) that this book may not be the best ever written, but I do believe no greater has ever been penned.
You want a great trifecta? Read The Sun Also Rises, then The Great Gatsby, then Eliot's The Wasteland. Follow those up by reading Ecclesiastes 1 and the Revelations of John. Now go to a cocktail party and start a conversation. You're welcome.
1) Hemingway was, if nothing else, a great American. A renaissance man, a soldier, a fisherman, and a sportswriter, a romantic and an argumentatively direct chauvinist, a conflicted religious agnostic who never abandoned religion (and, it could be argued, never wrote about anything but his conflicts with religion), Hemingway was a stereotype red-blooded American like no other great writer. An argument could be made for Fitzgerald, but the crux of that argument lies in his relationship to Hemingway (and his psychotic wife. By the way, I love Fitzgerald. He is just a touch wordy).
2) The Sun Also Rises describes (among other things) disillusionment with the "American Way" and what that had come to mean (especially emphasized through the walking wounded, contrasted always with previous generations' "Dulce et decorum est pro patria more" mentality). Unlike other similarly-themed novels, however, the book does not take place in America. I postulate the Great American Novel must take place somewhere other than America, to reveal the way in which Americans can be defined as such anywhere, and to ephasize said disillusionment. I have other reasons to think thus, but suffice to say for the moment.
3) The Sun Also Rises does not end so drastically as other great works of Hemingway's, such as A Farewell to Arms (not afraid to say I shed tears at the end of that one) or For Whom the Bell Tolls. His best ending was in Old Man and the Sea, but that work (at the risk of sounding blasphemous here) was slightly too poppy to be his best.
4) The book does not begin with the narrator (the opening describing Robert Cohen). Americans exist in relationship to one another. The country has been built through a competitive spirit- fostered by democracy and that ideal we call "The American Dream". The backlash of all that is a natural inclination to "Keep up with the Jones'," as it were. Jake Barnes is an observer, separated from the Americans and from the Europeans yet constantly comparing himself, directly or by insinuation, to others.
In short, read the damn book. If you don't get it, read it again. It is arguable (perhaps, though I doubt it) that this book may not be the best ever written, but I do believe no greater has ever been penned.
You want a great trifecta? Read The Sun Also Rises, then The Great Gatsby, then Eliot's The Wasteland. Follow those up by reading Ecclesiastes 1 and the Revelations of John. Now go to a cocktail party and start a conversation. You're welcome.
June 8, 2023
Dry. Bare. Brittle. But not drying out so far. Quite the contrary.
Dry like a very dry Jerez, a "manzanilla." But he doesn't drink Jerez in Spain before, brandy de Jerez from Fundador, after a few bottles of dry rioja.
In Paris, however, he always has a siphon close at hand for his whiskey, and the fine is still in the water, but the wine remains dry, whether it is Piquette or Chateau-Margaux.
He drinks dry and writes dry. He's Hemingway, but he's also his hero, Jacob (Jake) Barnes. A journalist who haunts bars and nightclubs in the Quartier Latin with friends thirsty as him and on both shores. From Montparnasse too. Americans like him. And in English sometimes. And an English one. A Unique. Lady Ashley. Brett has a boyish hairstyle. Who quickly becomes infatuated and passes from the arms to the arms. By love? But no! Infatuation, perhaps. Need escort, parade, never in the arms of Barnes. And yet. But it is impossible. They got to know each other; she is a volunteer nurse and hurts him. There's a nasty wound that keeps them from materializing their love. Since then, they turn around, and he follows his connections calmly.
The reader travels with them for a long time in Paris until they decide to leave in a group for Spain, fish for trout, and especially for the feast of San Fermin in Pamplona. The Fiesta! Los Sanfermines! The bulls ran in the streets to the corrals, the bullring enclosures, and the Plaza de Toros. The raging crowd rushed past them. And the bullfights! The ballet of bullfighters and the smell of blood in the air! And eight days of festivities, fireworks, songs and dances, bands of jota dancers, bands of fifes and drums! It will be eight days of dreams and nightmares for the Barnes gang. Eight days of drunkenness, or they will explode. They will insult each other; they will fight, always for them. - or because of - the beautiful eyes of Brett, who, affirming his inconstant pose, will leave them, will reject the English of service which was to marry her to follow a beautiful toreador of 19 years. Inconstancy? Constance, instead, is in a love that she knows is impossible, unrealizable. And so the end of the book can only bring us back to its beginning, in a kind of loop without exit, without hope, dry, dry to prevent the tears from blooming:
"- Oh, Jake, " said Brett, " We could have been so happy together!
In front of us, an officer in khaki controlled traffic from the top of his horse. He raised his staff. The cab suddenly slows down, pressing Brett against me.
- Yes, I say. But, of course, it's always nice to think about. "
Very dry writing. Descriptions and dialogues. Without introspective passages. Without psychological explanations. And that gives a moving book. This work is the secret of Hemingway's "iceberg writing": it reveals what we see, and the reader senses the enormous mass of emotions that lurk beneath the surface. Some saw it as a description of the interior of the famous "lost generation" of Americans exiled in Paris; others as an ode to hedonism. I saw perhaps the opposite: a cry of alarm, a cry for help, and above all, a remarkable love story. Impossible, of course, for the most incredible compassion, for the most excellent emotion of the reader. And suppose we want at all costs to speak of a lost generation. In that case, it is perhaps the whole generation of the post-war period, the post-World War I, the horror of trenches. Still, it is precise to her that Hemingway dedicates the title of his book (after trying to call it Fiesta): The Sun Also Rises, the Sun Also Rises. After the night always comes the day. The Sun rises every day and will always give us light and hope. Precarious, not assured, but hope all the same.
I will repeat myself, and you will forgive me: it is a remarkable love story.
Dry like a very dry Jerez, a "manzanilla." But he doesn't drink Jerez in Spain before, brandy de Jerez from Fundador, after a few bottles of dry rioja.
In Paris, however, he always has a siphon close at hand for his whiskey, and the fine is still in the water, but the wine remains dry, whether it is Piquette or Chateau-Margaux.
He drinks dry and writes dry. He's Hemingway, but he's also his hero, Jacob (Jake) Barnes. A journalist who haunts bars and nightclubs in the Quartier Latin with friends thirsty as him and on both shores. From Montparnasse too. Americans like him. And in English sometimes. And an English one. A Unique. Lady Ashley. Brett has a boyish hairstyle. Who quickly becomes infatuated and passes from the arms to the arms. By love? But no! Infatuation, perhaps. Need escort, parade, never in the arms of Barnes. And yet. But it is impossible. They got to know each other; she is a volunteer nurse and hurts him. There's a nasty wound that keeps them from materializing their love. Since then, they turn around, and he follows his connections calmly.
The reader travels with them for a long time in Paris until they decide to leave in a group for Spain, fish for trout, and especially for the feast of San Fermin in Pamplona. The Fiesta! Los Sanfermines! The bulls ran in the streets to the corrals, the bullring enclosures, and the Plaza de Toros. The raging crowd rushed past them. And the bullfights! The ballet of bullfighters and the smell of blood in the air! And eight days of festivities, fireworks, songs and dances, bands of jota dancers, bands of fifes and drums! It will be eight days of dreams and nightmares for the Barnes gang. Eight days of drunkenness, or they will explode. They will insult each other; they will fight, always for them. - or because of - the beautiful eyes of Brett, who, affirming his inconstant pose, will leave them, will reject the English of service which was to marry her to follow a beautiful toreador of 19 years. Inconstancy? Constance, instead, is in a love that she knows is impossible, unrealizable. And so the end of the book can only bring us back to its beginning, in a kind of loop without exit, without hope, dry, dry to prevent the tears from blooming:
"- Oh, Jake, " said Brett, " We could have been so happy together!
In front of us, an officer in khaki controlled traffic from the top of his horse. He raised his staff. The cab suddenly slows down, pressing Brett against me.
- Yes, I say. But, of course, it's always nice to think about. "
Very dry writing. Descriptions and dialogues. Without introspective passages. Without psychological explanations. And that gives a moving book. This work is the secret of Hemingway's "iceberg writing": it reveals what we see, and the reader senses the enormous mass of emotions that lurk beneath the surface. Some saw it as a description of the interior of the famous "lost generation" of Americans exiled in Paris; others as an ode to hedonism. I saw perhaps the opposite: a cry of alarm, a cry for help, and above all, a remarkable love story. Impossible, of course, for the most incredible compassion, for the most excellent emotion of the reader. And suppose we want at all costs to speak of a lost generation. In that case, it is perhaps the whole generation of the post-war period, the post-World War I, the horror of trenches. Still, it is precise to her that Hemingway dedicates the title of his book (after trying to call it Fiesta): The Sun Also Rises, the Sun Also Rises. After the night always comes the day. The Sun rises every day and will always give us light and hope. Precarious, not assured, but hope all the same.
I will repeat myself, and you will forgive me: it is a remarkable love story.
March 13, 2019
Can't quite believe this was not only Hemingway鈥檚 first novel, but my first Hemingway book since The Old man and the sea years ago. And, pardon the pun, this completely blew that out the water! Why did it take so long for me to get to him again? Just so glad that I did. His spare writing style, which went down a treat with me, is deceptively simple and just so readable that I found it a struggle to put the book down most of the time. I didn't want to leave it's company. I felt right at home within these pages. Wine glass in one hand, book in the other. Bliss. Starting off in Paris before relocating to Spain, Hemingway's novel in a nutshell focuses on the anguished love affair between the expatriate American war veteran Jake Barnes and the Lady Brett Ashley, an early sort of femme fatale that was representative in the writer鈥檚 mind of 1920s womanhood. For some, the heart and highlight of the novel is the bullfighting later on, but for me I just loved the whole darn thing equally, without the need to pick out one particular moment.
So then, Jake and his buddies head off to Spain, to fish, to witness Pamplona's Festival, the bullfighting, sinking bottle after bottle as they restlessly move from bar to bar, cafe to bar, and cafe to cafe. It sounds like parade! but all this comes at a cost, as the party that always seems to be in full swing slowly starts to crack. With all that sun, booze, and late nights the tension between the characters escalates, and everyone that seeks a connection in some way always ends up alone and disappointed come morning. In a way the the novel produces the effect of a terrible hangover as we move around in circles between the characters as they drink, eat, drink, and drink some more. Some may bemoan that things do get repetitive, but maybe that's the whole point. This group of wanderers simply don't want the party to end. It's like that melancholic feeling of lapping up the final days of summer knowing it won't be long before the clouds and the rain come along and spoil everything.
Parts reminded me of F. Scott Fitzgerald, so certainly no harm done there, and the love affair of Jake and the lovely, impulsive tease that is Lady Brett Ashley might easily have descended into bathos. It is an erotic attraction which is destined from the start to be frustrated and doomed. Hemingway has such a sure hold on his values that he makes an absorbingly tender narrative out of it. When Jake and Brett fall in love, and know, with that complete absence of reticence of the war generation, that nothing can be done about it, the thing might well have ended there and then. But Hemingway shows uncanny skill in prolonging it and delivering it of all its implications. He makes his characters say one thing, convey still another, and when a whole passage of talk has been given, the reader finds himself the richer by a totally unexpected mood, a mood often enough of outrageous familiarity with obscure heartbreaks.
I simply loved it, and was dazzled from start to finish!
So then, Jake and his buddies head off to Spain, to fish, to witness Pamplona's Festival, the bullfighting, sinking bottle after bottle as they restlessly move from bar to bar, cafe to bar, and cafe to cafe. It sounds like parade! but all this comes at a cost, as the party that always seems to be in full swing slowly starts to crack. With all that sun, booze, and late nights the tension between the characters escalates, and everyone that seeks a connection in some way always ends up alone and disappointed come morning. In a way the the novel produces the effect of a terrible hangover as we move around in circles between the characters as they drink, eat, drink, and drink some more. Some may bemoan that things do get repetitive, but maybe that's the whole point. This group of wanderers simply don't want the party to end. It's like that melancholic feeling of lapping up the final days of summer knowing it won't be long before the clouds and the rain come along and spoil everything.
Parts reminded me of F. Scott Fitzgerald, so certainly no harm done there, and the love affair of Jake and the lovely, impulsive tease that is Lady Brett Ashley might easily have descended into bathos. It is an erotic attraction which is destined from the start to be frustrated and doomed. Hemingway has such a sure hold on his values that he makes an absorbingly tender narrative out of it. When Jake and Brett fall in love, and know, with that complete absence of reticence of the war generation, that nothing can be done about it, the thing might well have ended there and then. But Hemingway shows uncanny skill in prolonging it and delivering it of all its implications. He makes his characters say one thing, convey still another, and when a whole passage of talk has been given, the reader finds himself the richer by a totally unexpected mood, a mood often enough of outrageous familiarity with obscure heartbreaks.
I simply loved it, and was dazzled from start to finish!
February 5, 2012
She Aches Just like a Woman
I鈥檒l start off with something that I thought was interesting (hint: it borders on being annoying). For the first 75 pages, characters move in and out of this book with such swiftness and with no mention of physical description or notable characteristics, it mimics the effect of being at a really crowded party where you meet face after face, name after name and you have no time to process who is who, why they are significant and if you should even bother to remember them; so at the very least, the book is able to imitate the 鈥渂ig-party-greeting鈥� that seems to permeate throughout the lives of the characters, but this only goes so far; that section is one long boring party that requires the minimum amount of your attention to understand what all these vapid, vacuous people are doing and what their current life drama is all about. Sure, there might be a great deal of interesting people moving in and out of your living room, but everyone is so focused on getting plastered drunk (on absinthe mind you), that no one cares about anything but what the most superficial impression of a person can yield.
Whoo, my attempt at a complement turns into a nasty criticism and my struggle to appreciate Hemingway continues.
The Iceberg Theory. Ya鈥檒l know it. It doesn鈥檛 bear repeating but I will anyway. The gist of it is, is that in order to involve the reader as the author should, he must properly convey the depth of human emotion by giving the most minute of details, so that the full depth of a scene is communicated implicitly not explicitly. The theory revolves around the idea that feelings unspoken, are more profound than feelings spoken. And up until this point, I couldn鈥檛 agree with Hemingway more. How many times can you read a story that gives it all away? What鈥檚 the point of feeling the emotion of a story, if we have to be reminded that 鈥淛ohn is feeling sad. John cried鈥�. It freezes the drama; the characters go stiff. Yet, I couldn鈥檛 disagree more with Hemingway鈥檚 execution of the iceberg theory. If words are to allude to a much deeper reservoir of meaning, then shouldn鈥檛 each word be dense, double-entendr茅d and deeply consequential? I am reminded time and time again, that there is a wrong way to take this theory. Plus I am overcome with the feeling that all of poetry operates on this same principle, yet Hemingway writes the most dull and framework prose I鈥檝e ever read. How could someone fully embrace the Iceberg Theory and then write a line like:
Then there are literal chunks of this book that scream look at me! Look how much I researched for this novel!, that contain descriptions making an american tourist of France's handbook seem like a high-octane thrill ride:
There could be a lot of emotional depth coursing underneath all this banal prose, but it is all lost on me. I know that many people find this book to be their favorite of Hemingway, but without much action, where is the pleasure? Which I posit to be Hemingway鈥檚 biggest strength. All the bull-fights and the corriendo de los torros were quite strong; they were the only things worthwhile, I could learn a lot from Hemingway about how to properly write brutal violence or any scene where men face tough adversity. Heck, even the fishing trip is one of the more exciting parts of this book. Hemingway鈥檚 strengths are on beautiful display in For Whom the Bell Tolls. This is because the book is set during the Spanish Civil War. I even enjoyed the imitation Castilian Spanish, and needlessly translated dialogue; I felt that Hemingway had achieved a tone that befit the old-time feel of its characters and story, but without much of anything happening in The Sun Also Rises, I can鈥檛 say that this would be worth your time.
One last thing, to tie in the review鈥檚 title. I couldn鈥檛 stand the main female character. Like not even for a few pages. I started to loath her so much, that I started to wonder is this the point?. Now, enough ink has been spilled over Papa Hemingway鈥檚 possible sexist leanings, but this is one despicable cock-tease of a female protagonist. Whoever inspired him to feature such a lady to be the only female character in the entire book must have given Hemingway鈥檚 heart quite the roller coaster ride. That being said, this book was written in the 20鈥檚. And I have to maintain my rule of thumb that anything written before 1975 containing flagrant sexism or racism must be given a cultural pass. It鈥檚 messed up, I know. But I must take the fact that there is a racial slur on every other page of this book with a grain of salt.
As I read this review over, it really seems like I hated this book. Well I did. But there were parts that were great.
So here鈥檚 the thing.
I will admit that I鈥檓 not one who takes to plot very often. I tend to err on the side of beautiful writing, even if it鈥檚 for the sake of beautiful writing. I am willing to admit, at any time, that Hemingway is just not for me. But I鈥檓 struggling to understand how Hemingway could be for anyone.
I am always open to having my mind changed. That is what I love about this site. So please, make your case for the Papa! I want to hear why I鈥檓 wrong. Bring it on!
Because I want to love Hemingway. I really do.
p.s. 欧宝娱乐 wouldn't let me post my real recommendation.
It should say "I would recommend to: Men who enjoy their women like their bull-fights, wild, violent and leaving a gaping hole where your heart used to be"
I鈥檒l start off with something that I thought was interesting (hint: it borders on being annoying). For the first 75 pages, characters move in and out of this book with such swiftness and with no mention of physical description or notable characteristics, it mimics the effect of being at a really crowded party where you meet face after face, name after name and you have no time to process who is who, why they are significant and if you should even bother to remember them; so at the very least, the book is able to imitate the 鈥渂ig-party-greeting鈥� that seems to permeate throughout the lives of the characters, but this only goes so far; that section is one long boring party that requires the minimum amount of your attention to understand what all these vapid, vacuous people are doing and what their current life drama is all about. Sure, there might be a great deal of interesting people moving in and out of your living room, but everyone is so focused on getting plastered drunk (on absinthe mind you), that no one cares about anything but what the most superficial impression of a person can yield.
Whoo, my attempt at a complement turns into a nasty criticism and my struggle to appreciate Hemingway continues.
The Iceberg Theory. Ya鈥檒l know it. It doesn鈥檛 bear repeating but I will anyway. The gist of it is, is that in order to involve the reader as the author should, he must properly convey the depth of human emotion by giving the most minute of details, so that the full depth of a scene is communicated implicitly not explicitly. The theory revolves around the idea that feelings unspoken, are more profound than feelings spoken. And up until this point, I couldn鈥檛 agree with Hemingway more. How many times can you read a story that gives it all away? What鈥檚 the point of feeling the emotion of a story, if we have to be reminded that 鈥淛ohn is feeling sad. John cried鈥�. It freezes the drama; the characters go stiff. Yet, I couldn鈥檛 disagree more with Hemingway鈥檚 execution of the iceberg theory. If words are to allude to a much deeper reservoir of meaning, then shouldn鈥檛 each word be dense, double-entendr茅d and deeply consequential? I am reminded time and time again, that there is a wrong way to take this theory. Plus I am overcome with the feeling that all of poetry operates on this same principle, yet Hemingway writes the most dull and framework prose I鈥檝e ever read. How could someone fully embrace the Iceberg Theory and then write a line like:
鈥淚t seemed like a nice cathedral, nice and dim, like Spanish churches鈥�?A few lines earlier we were told that they are in Spain. So Hemingway writes that the nice churches located in Spain are like nice Spanish churches. Ugh.
Then there are literal chunks of this book that scream look at me! Look how much I researched for this novel!, that contain descriptions making an american tourist of France's handbook seem like a high-octane thrill ride:
鈥淲e came unto the Rue du Pot de Fer and followed it along until it brought us to the rigid north and south of the Rue Saint Jacques and then walked south, past Val de Gr芒ce, set back behind the courtyard and the iron fence, to the Boulevard du Port Royal. . . We walked along Port Royal until it became Mountparnasse, and then on past the Lilas, Lavigne鈥檚, and all the little caf茅s, Damoy鈥檚, crossed the street to the Rotonde, past its lights and tables to the Select.鈥�This is not what I read fiction for.
There could be a lot of emotional depth coursing underneath all this banal prose, but it is all lost on me. I know that many people find this book to be their favorite of Hemingway, but without much action, where is the pleasure? Which I posit to be Hemingway鈥檚 biggest strength. All the bull-fights and the corriendo de los torros were quite strong; they were the only things worthwhile, I could learn a lot from Hemingway about how to properly write brutal violence or any scene where men face tough adversity. Heck, even the fishing trip is one of the more exciting parts of this book. Hemingway鈥檚 strengths are on beautiful display in For Whom the Bell Tolls. This is because the book is set during the Spanish Civil War. I even enjoyed the imitation Castilian Spanish, and needlessly translated dialogue; I felt that Hemingway had achieved a tone that befit the old-time feel of its characters and story, but without much of anything happening in The Sun Also Rises, I can鈥檛 say that this would be worth your time.
One last thing, to tie in the review鈥檚 title. I couldn鈥檛 stand the main female character. Like not even for a few pages. I started to loath her so much, that I started to wonder is this the point?. Now, enough ink has been spilled over Papa Hemingway鈥檚 possible sexist leanings, but this is one despicable cock-tease of a female protagonist. Whoever inspired him to feature such a lady to be the only female character in the entire book must have given Hemingway鈥檚 heart quite the roller coaster ride. That being said, this book was written in the 20鈥檚. And I have to maintain my rule of thumb that anything written before 1975 containing flagrant sexism or racism must be given a cultural pass. It鈥檚 messed up, I know. But I must take the fact that there is a racial slur on every other page of this book with a grain of salt.
As I read this review over, it really seems like I hated this book. Well I did. But there were parts that were great.
So here鈥檚 the thing.
I will admit that I鈥檓 not one who takes to plot very often. I tend to err on the side of beautiful writing, even if it鈥檚 for the sake of beautiful writing. I am willing to admit, at any time, that Hemingway is just not for me. But I鈥檓 struggling to understand how Hemingway could be for anyone.
I am always open to having my mind changed. That is what I love about this site. So please, make your case for the Papa! I want to hear why I鈥檓 wrong. Bring it on!
Because I want to love Hemingway. I really do.
p.s. 欧宝娱乐 wouldn't let me post my real recommendation.
It should say "I would recommend to: Men who enjoy their women like their bull-fights, wild, violent and leaving a gaping hole where your heart used to be"
September 6, 2021
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises: "Robert Cohn was once middleweight boxing champion of Princeton".
This phrase sums up the relationship between the narrator and his subject, Mr. Cohn quite perfectly. He shows the Robert's glory was pretty mediocre ("middleweight") and a long time ago ("once") and not actual. It also shows the pretentiousness of the character through the association with Princeton. It is almost the prototypical Hemmingway prose as well being dry and direct and to the point. The reference to boxing which is a violent, masculine sport, gives us an inkling of the bull fighting that will become the center of this early 20th century masterpiece.
The relationship between Jake and Brett is an old one of disappointment and resignation, Brett always doomed to make poor decisions and Jake always doomed to clean up the messes she leaves behind.
The great irony I find in Hemingway is that he uses a very direct language with a limited vocabulary and repetition, and yet there is an incredible subtlety here. Jake鈥檚 wartime injury castrated him, but we only learn this by inference: when Georgette tries to touch him there, he moves her hand away and says he鈥檚 sick, later with Brett their contact is limited to kisses and he cries when she leaves him, he observes himself naked in the mirror in his room and only then does he talk in roundabout terms about getting injured in the war and how the other officers made a joke about it. As a result of this castration, and his inbred anti-Semitism, he acts as a entremetteur in trying to tempt his erstwhile friend Robert Cohn into infidelity at the beginning of the book when he mentions the girl in Strasbourg in front of his wife, Frances. Tragically, this playing matchmaker later backfires on him when he learns that Brett has spent a weekend in Bayonne with Robert rather than coming to Spain with him.
It is admittedly upsetting to see Hemingway鈥檚 anti-Semitism in his description of how Robert had 鈥� a hard, Jewish, stubborn streak.鈥� (p. 10) There is also unveiled homophobia in Jake鈥檚 hostile reaction to the gay men with whom Brett shows up to the bal musette in the Latin quarter: 鈥淪omehow they always made me angry. I know they are supposed to be amusing, and you are should be tolerant, but I wanted to swing on one, any one, anything to shatter that superior, simpering composure.鈥� (p. 20) Note the alliteration there, 鈥� swing, shatter, superior, simpering鈥�; that is one of the great markers of Hemingway鈥檚 writing that makes one want to forgive him for his many many faults. In that same section, the phrase 鈥渨ith them was Brett鈥� is repeated twice reemphasizing how Jake鈥檚 sudden feeling of violence is tied up in his own impotence - they are gay and will not make love to her either, but this just reminds him of how much he would like to making him more angry. It is a lot to unpack, but the terse prose brings out all this nervousness in the words themselves.
I had forgotten that most of the novel takes place in Paris entre-guerres and recall that the first time I read this 3 decades ago or more, I had never seen much less dreamed of living in Paris. And so it goes.
Late in the book when Jake returns briefly to France before a final return to Spain, he makes a comment about French servers not having a 鈥渕y friend鈥� attitude and that you get what you pay for - I have found this to be the case and despite my past annoyance with arrogant French service, it is true that pedantic, over-friendly service elsewhere in desperate attempts to solicit a tip is even more annoying.
I love Papa鈥檚 writing: the spartan use of language, the evocation of things in such an abbreviated, staccato manner鈥nd I had also forgotten how much drinking goes on in this book!
One day before I am too old, I truly want to see a bullfight in Pamplona. Some day鈥�.
Don't miss my review of the Meyer biography of Hemingway: /review/show...
July 19, 2024
讴鬲丕亘 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賴賲 趩賳丕賳 賲蹖 丿賲丿 亘丕 賵噩賵丿 卮丕丿 賳賵卮蹖 賴丕 賵 賲爻鬲蹖 賴丕 蹖 賮乇丕賵丕賳 貙 噩卮賳 貙 讴丕乇賳丕賵丕賱 貙 乇賯氐 貙 卮賵乇 貙毓卮賯 賵禺賵卮诏匕乇丕賳蹖 倬蹖丕賲蹖 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲 丕夭 禺賵卮亘禺鬲蹖 貙 賱匕鬲 賵 卮丕丿蹖 丿丕乇丿 貙 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 丿爻鬲丕賳 倬乇賯丿乇鬲 诏匕卮鬲賴 丕蹖 乇丕 鬲乇爻蹖賲 讴乇丿賴 讴賴 賴蹖趩 诏丕賴 丿乇 亘賳丿 夭賲丕賳 賳賲丕賳丿賴 貙 賴賲賵丕乇賴 丿乇 鬲賲丕賲 丿賯丕蹖賯 丨囟賵乇 丿丕卮鬲賴 賵 賮乇丕賲賵卮 卮丿賳蹖 賳蹖爻鬲 貙 賴賲丕賳賳丿 丌孬丕乇 丿蹖诏乇 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 噩賳诏 賳賯卮 賲賴賲蹖 丿乇乇賲丕賳 丿丕卮鬲賴 賵 丨丕賱 賵 丌蹖賳丿賴 丕賮乇丕丿 乇丕 鬲毓蹖蹖賳 賲蹖 讴賳丿 .
乇丕賵蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 噩蹖讴 亘丕乇賳夭 禺賵丿 丨讴丕蹖鬲 毓噩蹖亘蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 貙 夭禺賲蹖 讴賴 丕賵 丿乇 噩賳诏 丕賵賱 亘乇丿丕卮鬲賴 ( 毓賯蹖賲 卮丿賳 賵 賳丕鬲賵丕賳蹖 噩賳爻蹖 ) 賴賲 噩爻賲 丕賵 乇丕 乇賳噩賵乇 爻丕禺鬲賴 賵 賴賲 乇賵丨卮 乇丕 爻禺鬲 賲噩乇賵丨 讴乇丿賴 貙 丕賵 禺賵丿 乇丕 丿乇 讴丕乇 夭蹖丕丿 貙 禺賵乇丿賳 賵 賳賵卮蹖丿賳 睾乇賯 讴乇丿賴 貙 丕賲丕 賯賱賲 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 馗丕賴乇 亘丕乇賳夭 乇丕 亘乇丕蹖 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 乇賵 讴乇丿賴 貙 亘賴 賯賵賱 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 乇賵夭 丌丿賲 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳丿 賯蹖丕賮賴 亘诏蹖乇丿 賵賱蹖 卮亘 趩蹖夭 丿蹖诏乇蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 貙 讴丕乇 亘丕乇賳夭 亘蹖趩丕乇賴 卮亘 賴丕 诏乇蹖賴 讴乇丿賳 丕爻鬲 丕賲丕 乇賵夭賴丕 亘乇 禺賵丿 賲爻賱胤 卮丿賴 賵 賱匕鬲蹖 乇丕 讴賴 賳賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳丿 丕夭 讴丕賲 夭賳丕賳 亘诏蹖乇丿 亘丕 禺賵乇丿賳 賵 丌卮丕賲蹖丿賳 鬲賱丕卮 丿乇 噩亘乇丕賳 丌賳 丿丕乇丿 鬲丕 卮丕蹖丿 乇賳噩 賴爻鬲蹖 乇丕 丕蹖賳 诏賵賳賴 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴賳丿 .
卮乇丨 夭賳丿诏蹖 亘丕乇賳夭 丿乇 倬丕乇蹖爻 乇丕 卮丕蹖丿 亘鬲賵丕賳 賲丕賳賳丿 賲賯丿賲賴 丕蹖 亘乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵 爻賮乇 賳賴 趩賳丿丕賳 毓乇賮丕賳蹖 卮禺氐蹖鬲賴丕蹖 丌賳 丿丕賳爻鬲 貙 丕诏乇趩賴 讴賴 亘賴 賱胤賮 賯賱賲 鬲賵丕賳丕蹖 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 貙 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 亘丕 噩丕丿賵 賵 噩匕丕亘蹖鬲 倬丕乇蹖爻 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 倬乇 賴蹖噩丕賳 卮亘丕賳賴 丌賳 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖 卮賵丿 貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 丿乇 倬丕乇蹖爻 亘丕 賵噩賵丿 丌賳讴賴 卮丕丿 賵 倬乇夭乇賯 賵 亘乇賯 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖 乇爻丿 丕賲丕 丕夭 丿乇賵賳 禺丕賱蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 貙 倬丕乇蹖爻 賴賲 賴賲丕賳賳丿 賲乇丿丕賳 讴鬲丕亘 賲氐蹖亘鬲 丿蹖丿賴 丕爻鬲 賵 噩賳诏 夭丿賴 .
丕爻丕爻 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕 亘丕蹖丿 丿乇 爻賮乇 亘賴 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 丿丕賳爻鬲 貙 賴賳诏丕賲蹖 讴賴 丕賳丿讴 丕賳丿讴 噩賲毓 賲爻鬲丕賳 乇爻蹖丿賴 賵 丕夭 倬丕乇蹖爻 賲丿乇賳 乇賴爻倬丕乇 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賯丿蹖賲蹖 賵 爻賳鬲蹖 賴爻鬲賳丿 貙 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 讴賴 丿乇 噩賳诏 卮乇讴鬲 賳丿丕卮鬲賴 貙 卮賵乇 賵 卮賵賯 賵 诏乇賲丕 丿乇 賲乇丿賲丕賳 賵 胤亘蹖毓鬲 丌賳 讴丕賲賱丕 丨爻 賲蹖 卮賵丿 . 亘丿賵賳 卮讴 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 丕爻鬲丕丿 鬲賵氐蹖賮 丕爻鬲 貙 丕賵 趩賳丕賳 鬲氐賵蹖乇 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 丕夭 胤亘蹖毓鬲 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿賴 讴賴 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 乇丕 賴賲 賴賲乇丕賴 讴丕乇丕讴鬲乇 賴丕蹖 賴賲賵丕乇賴 賲爻鬲 讴鬲丕亘 貙 賲爻鬲 賵 賲禺賲賵乇 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賲蹖 讴賳丿 . 丕诏乇 趩賴 讴賴 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 夭蹖亘丕爻鬲 賵 亘乇鬲 貙 鬲賳賴丕 夭賳 賴賲乇丕賴 賲乇丿丕賳 賴賲 丿賱乇亘丕 爻鬲 賵 亘爻丕胤 毓卮賯 賴賲 诏爻鬲乇丿賴 貙 丕賲丕 賳賴 毓卮賯 賵丕賯毓蹖 卮讴賱 诏乇賮鬲賴 賵 賳賴 卮賵乇 賵 丨丕賱蹖 倬丿蹖丿 賲蹖 丌蹖丿
倬丕賲倬賱賵賳丕 賵 賮爻鬲蹖賵丕賱 诏丕賵亘丕夭蹖 爻賳 賮乇賲蹖賳 噩丕蹖蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 讴賴 鬲賲丕賲蹖 丕賮乇丕丿 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘賴 倬賵趩蹖 禺賵丿 貙 鬲賱禺蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵 鬲賱丕卮 賳丕讴丕賲 禺賵丿 亘乇丕蹖 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴乇丿賳 诏匕卮鬲賴 倬蹖 賲蹖 亘乇賳丿 貙 禺賲丕乇蹖 賲爻鬲蹖 讴賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 乇丕 倬賵卮丕賳丿賴 亘賵丿 丕诏乇 趩賴 亘乇丕蹖 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 讴賵鬲丕賴 倬乇蹖丿賴 丕賲丕 丿賵亘丕乇賴 賵 丕蹖賳 亘丕乇 賯賵蹖鬲乇 亘丕夭 賲蹖 诏乇丿丿 貙 丌賳趩賴 丌賳丕賳 丿乇 噩賳诏 讴卮蹖丿賴 丕賳丿 貙 倬賵趩蹖 貙 鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖 貙 诏賵蹖丕 丿乇賲丕賳蹖 賳丿丕乇丿 噩夭賲爻鬲蹖 .
禺賵丕賳丿賳 讴鬲丕亘 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賴賲趩賳丕賳 賲蹖 丿賲丿 丿蹖丿 賵 賳诏丕賴 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲蹖 丕夭 噩賳诏 賵 賮乇賵倬丕卮蹖 乇賵丨蹖 倬爻 丕夭 丌賳 乇丕 賳卮丕賳 賲蹖 丿賴丿 貙 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 讴丕乇蹖 亘丕 卮賴乇賴丕蹖 賵蹖乇丕賳 貙 賲乇丿丕賳 賲噩乇賵丨 賵 賲毓賱賵賱 賳丿丕乇丿 貙 丕賵 乇賵丨 賲鬲賱丕卮蹖 卮丿賴 倬爻 丕夭 噩賳诏 乇丕 丿蹖丿賴 賵 鬲噩爻賲 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲 貙 趩賴 卮賴乇 賵 趩賴 丕賳爻丕賳 賴丕 丿乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 禺丕賱蹖 貙 倬賵卮丕賱蹖 貙 倬賵趩 賵 鬲賴蹖 賴爻鬲賳丿 貙 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 賵 丨賯蹖賯鬲 乇丕 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳 丿乇 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賲丨亘賵亘 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 賵 丕賱亘鬲賴 诏乇蹖禺鬲賳 亘賴 胤亘毓蹖鬲 亘讴乇 丌賳 蹖丕賮鬲 貙 丕诏乇 趩賴 讴賴 丿乇 賴賲蹖賳 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 爻鬲 讴賴 丕賮乇丕丿 倬蹖 亘賴 倬賵趩蹖 禺賵丿 賲蹖 亘乇賳丿 .
丿乇 倬丕蹖丕賳 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳 诏賮鬲 丌賳趩賴 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿賴 賳賲丕蹖卮 卮賵乇 亘禺鬲蹖 丕賳爻丕賳 賵 鬲賱丕卮 亘乇丕蹖 乇賴丕蹖蹖 丕夭 丌賳 丕爻鬲 貙 鬲賱丕卮蹖 讴賴 賳賴 鬲賳賴丕 卮讴爻鬲 禺賵乇丿賴 亘賱讴賴 丕賮乇丕丿 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕 賴賲 亘蹖卮鬲乇禺乇丿 賵 賵蹖乇丕賳 讴乇丿賴 賵 爻乇丕賳噩丕賲 丿乇 趩丕賴 卮賵乇亘禺鬲蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 賮乇賵 亘乇丿賴 丕爻鬲 .
乇丕賵蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 噩蹖讴 亘丕乇賳夭 禺賵丿 丨讴丕蹖鬲 毓噩蹖亘蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 貙 夭禺賲蹖 讴賴 丕賵 丿乇 噩賳诏 丕賵賱 亘乇丿丕卮鬲賴 ( 毓賯蹖賲 卮丿賳 賵 賳丕鬲賵丕賳蹖 噩賳爻蹖 ) 賴賲 噩爻賲 丕賵 乇丕 乇賳噩賵乇 爻丕禺鬲賴 賵 賴賲 乇賵丨卮 乇丕 爻禺鬲 賲噩乇賵丨 讴乇丿賴 貙 丕賵 禺賵丿 乇丕 丿乇 讴丕乇 夭蹖丕丿 貙 禺賵乇丿賳 賵 賳賵卮蹖丿賳 睾乇賯 讴乇丿賴 貙 丕賲丕 賯賱賲 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 馗丕賴乇 亘丕乇賳夭 乇丕 亘乇丕蹖 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 乇賵 讴乇丿賴 貙 亘賴 賯賵賱 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 乇賵夭 丌丿賲 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳丿 賯蹖丕賮賴 亘诏蹖乇丿 賵賱蹖 卮亘 趩蹖夭 丿蹖诏乇蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 貙 讴丕乇 亘丕乇賳夭 亘蹖趩丕乇賴 卮亘 賴丕 诏乇蹖賴 讴乇丿賳 丕爻鬲 丕賲丕 乇賵夭賴丕 亘乇 禺賵丿 賲爻賱胤 卮丿賴 賵 賱匕鬲蹖 乇丕 讴賴 賳賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳丿 丕夭 讴丕賲 夭賳丕賳 亘诏蹖乇丿 亘丕 禺賵乇丿賳 賵 丌卮丕賲蹖丿賳 鬲賱丕卮 丿乇 噩亘乇丕賳 丌賳 丿丕乇丿 鬲丕 卮丕蹖丿 乇賳噩 賴爻鬲蹖 乇丕 丕蹖賳 诏賵賳賴 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴賳丿 .
卮乇丨 夭賳丿诏蹖 亘丕乇賳夭 丿乇 倬丕乇蹖爻 乇丕 卮丕蹖丿 亘鬲賵丕賳 賲丕賳賳丿 賲賯丿賲賴 丕蹖 亘乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵 爻賮乇 賳賴 趩賳丿丕賳 毓乇賮丕賳蹖 卮禺氐蹖鬲賴丕蹖 丌賳 丿丕賳爻鬲 貙 丕诏乇趩賴 讴賴 亘賴 賱胤賮 賯賱賲 鬲賵丕賳丕蹖 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 貙 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 亘丕 噩丕丿賵 賵 噩匕丕亘蹖鬲 倬丕乇蹖爻 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 倬乇 賴蹖噩丕賳 卮亘丕賳賴 丌賳 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖 卮賵丿 貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 丿乇 倬丕乇蹖爻 亘丕 賵噩賵丿 丌賳讴賴 卮丕丿 賵 倬乇夭乇賯 賵 亘乇賯 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖 乇爻丿 丕賲丕 丕夭 丿乇賵賳 禺丕賱蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 貙 倬丕乇蹖爻 賴賲 賴賲丕賳賳丿 賲乇丿丕賳 讴鬲丕亘 賲氐蹖亘鬲 丿蹖丿賴 丕爻鬲 賵 噩賳诏 夭丿賴 .
丕爻丕爻 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕 亘丕蹖丿 丿乇 爻賮乇 亘賴 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 丿丕賳爻鬲 貙 賴賳诏丕賲蹖 讴賴 丕賳丿讴 丕賳丿讴 噩賲毓 賲爻鬲丕賳 乇爻蹖丿賴 賵 丕夭 倬丕乇蹖爻 賲丿乇賳 乇賴爻倬丕乇 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賯丿蹖賲蹖 賵 爻賳鬲蹖 賴爻鬲賳丿 貙 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 讴賴 丿乇 噩賳诏 卮乇讴鬲 賳丿丕卮鬲賴 貙 卮賵乇 賵 卮賵賯 賵 诏乇賲丕 丿乇 賲乇丿賲丕賳 賵 胤亘蹖毓鬲 丌賳 讴丕賲賱丕 丨爻 賲蹖 卮賵丿 . 亘丿賵賳 卮讴 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 丕爻鬲丕丿 鬲賵氐蹖賮 丕爻鬲 貙 丕賵 趩賳丕賳 鬲氐賵蹖乇 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 丕夭 胤亘蹖毓鬲 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿賴 讴賴 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 乇丕 賴賲 賴賲乇丕賴 讴丕乇丕讴鬲乇 賴丕蹖 賴賲賵丕乇賴 賲爻鬲 讴鬲丕亘 貙 賲爻鬲 賵 賲禺賲賵乇 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賲蹖 讴賳丿 . 丕诏乇 趩賴 讴賴 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 夭蹖亘丕爻鬲 賵 亘乇鬲 貙 鬲賳賴丕 夭賳 賴賲乇丕賴 賲乇丿丕賳 賴賲 丿賱乇亘丕 爻鬲 賵 亘爻丕胤 毓卮賯 賴賲 诏爻鬲乇丿賴 貙 丕賲丕 賳賴 毓卮賯 賵丕賯毓蹖 卮讴賱 诏乇賮鬲賴 賵 賳賴 卮賵乇 賵 丨丕賱蹖 倬丿蹖丿 賲蹖 丌蹖丿
倬丕賲倬賱賵賳丕 賵 賮爻鬲蹖賵丕賱 诏丕賵亘丕夭蹖 爻賳 賮乇賲蹖賳 噩丕蹖蹖 丕蹖爻鬲 讴賴 鬲賲丕賲蹖 丕賮乇丕丿 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘賴 倬賵趩蹖 禺賵丿 貙 鬲賱禺蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵 鬲賱丕卮 賳丕讴丕賲 禺賵丿 亘乇丕蹖 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴乇丿賳 诏匕卮鬲賴 倬蹖 賲蹖 亘乇賳丿 貙 禺賲丕乇蹖 賲爻鬲蹖 讴賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 乇丕 倬賵卮丕賳丿賴 亘賵丿 丕诏乇 趩賴 亘乇丕蹖 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 讴賵鬲丕賴 倬乇蹖丿賴 丕賲丕 丿賵亘丕乇賴 賵 丕蹖賳 亘丕乇 賯賵蹖鬲乇 亘丕夭 賲蹖 诏乇丿丿 貙 丌賳趩賴 丌賳丕賳 丿乇 噩賳诏 讴卮蹖丿賴 丕賳丿 貙 倬賵趩蹖 貙 鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖 貙 诏賵蹖丕 丿乇賲丕賳蹖 賳丿丕乇丿 噩夭賲爻鬲蹖 .
禺賵丕賳丿賳 讴鬲丕亘 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賴賲趩賳丕賳 賲蹖 丿賲丿 丿蹖丿 賵 賳诏丕賴 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲蹖 丕夭 噩賳诏 賵 賮乇賵倬丕卮蹖 乇賵丨蹖 倬爻 丕夭 丌賳 乇丕 賳卮丕賳 賲蹖 丿賴丿 貙 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 讴丕乇蹖 亘丕 卮賴乇賴丕蹖 賵蹖乇丕賳 貙 賲乇丿丕賳 賲噩乇賵丨 賵 賲毓賱賵賱 賳丿丕乇丿 貙 丕賵 乇賵丨 賲鬲賱丕卮蹖 卮丿賴 倬爻 丕夭 噩賳诏 乇丕 丿蹖丿賴 賵 鬲噩爻賲 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲 貙 趩賴 卮賴乇 賵 趩賴 丕賳爻丕賳 賴丕 丿乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 禺丕賱蹖 貙 倬賵卮丕賱蹖 貙 倬賵趩 賵 鬲賴蹖 賴爻鬲賳丿 貙 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 賵 丨賯蹖賯鬲 乇丕 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳 丿乇 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 賲丨亘賵亘 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 賵 丕賱亘鬲賴 诏乇蹖禺鬲賳 亘賴 胤亘毓蹖鬲 亘讴乇 丌賳 蹖丕賮鬲 貙 丕诏乇 趩賴 讴賴 丿乇 賴賲蹖賳 丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕 爻鬲 讴賴 丕賮乇丕丿 倬蹖 亘賴 倬賵趩蹖 禺賵丿 賲蹖 亘乇賳丿 .
丿乇 倬丕蹖丕賳 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳 诏賮鬲 丌賳趩賴 賴賲蹖賳诏賵蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿賴 賳賲丕蹖卮 卮賵乇 亘禺鬲蹖 丕賳爻丕賳 賵 鬲賱丕卮 亘乇丕蹖 乇賴丕蹖蹖 丕夭 丌賳 丕爻鬲 貙 鬲賱丕卮蹖 讴賴 賳賴 鬲賳賴丕 卮讴爻鬲 禺賵乇丿賴 亘賱讴賴 丕賮乇丕丿 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕 賴賲 亘蹖卮鬲乇禺乇丿 賵 賵蹖乇丕賳 讴乇丿賴 賵 爻乇丕賳噩丕賲 丿乇 趩丕賴 卮賵乇亘禺鬲蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 賮乇賵 亘乇丿賴 丕爻鬲 .
September 23, 2016
Such a boring book. I get that Hemingway captures the decadence and dissolution of the Lost Generation. I get that his writing style brings to mind adjectives like "sparse" and "blunt" and "elegiac." But I do not get how to find enjoyment from such a repetitive book that glamorizes violence, excessive drinking, outdated forms of masculinity, homophobia, and antisemitism. One could argue that Hemingway reports these toxic ideas as ideals of the time, but even then, he does nothing special with his story to rise above the trials of the 1920s. I also cannot forgive his monotonous and mind-numbing prose. As I said in another review, if an author without Hemingway's name tried to get by with this style of writing, I doubt they would succeed.
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