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    THE SUN ALSO RISES Ernest Hemingway New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1954 From 1926 original 247 pages.



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    THE SUN ALSO RISES Ernest Hemingway New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1954 From 1926 original 247 pages.

    مُساهمة من طرف GODOF في الثلاثاء 22 يونيو - 13:27


    Ernest Hemingway
    New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1954
    From 1926 original
    247 pages.

    Comments by Bob Corbett
    June 2006
    Ernest Hemingway opens the novel with this quote from Gertrud Stein.
    “You are the lost generation” and a passage from Ecclesiastes in which
    the title “the sun also rises” appears and the view that life goes on
    even though we individual humans pass What follows is the brilliantly
    written story of a group of those lost generation folks in the 1920s,
    ex-pats living in Paris, then visiting Spain. The central figure,
    surely closely related to Hemingway himself, is a newspaper writer, a
    loner in love with Brett Ashley, but neither of them able to live a
    life which would or could have enough commitment to make a love
    relationship work. Nevertheless, Brett and Jake do have a beautiful
    friendship and mutual support.
    The other major characters are rather sad folks, lost, without
    meaning, and often, seemingly before the phrase was invented, very ugly
    Americans. There is Michael, the man Brett seems destined to marry and
    tortured by her constant infidelities, an ex-boxer, Robert Cohn,
    pathetically in love with Brett but scorned by her, and fairly likeable
    Bill Groton. This group parties constantly, staying drunk more than
    sober, seemingly to escape the meaninglessness of their highly
    privileged lives, and to convince themselves they are having fun. At one point late in the novel Brett makes a rather humane
    decision to spare a young lover, an up and coming bull fighter, from
    being destroyed by her. She tells Jake:
    “You know it makes one feel rather good deciding not to be a bitch.


    “It’s sort of what we have instead of God."
    I read that claim as less about the notion of God of religion than
    as a comment of a value system which gives a person a reason to live
    with dignity, hope, even pride. Such moments are rare for these sad
    even pathetic folks. Hemingway captures their lives with amazing power
    and vivid description. There is a very long and famous section where the whole group
    goes to Pamplona for the festival of the running of the bulls.
    Hemingway’s account is both gripping and as vivid as photographs. However, a secondary theme in that section is what ugly
    Americans they are. (Actually Brett and Michael are British). Taking
    advantage of their relative wealth to live high above the life-style of
    the locals, they sneer at the people’s quite beautiful lives and
    culture. In one place Jake says:
    “The waiter recommended a Basque liqueur called
    Izzarra. He brought in the bottle and poured a liqueur-glass full. The
    veritable flower of the Pyrenees. It looked like hair-oil and smelled
    like Italian strega. I told him to take the flowers of the Pyrenees
    away and bring me a vieux marc. The marc was good. I had a second marc
    after the coffee.

    “The waiter seemed a little offended about the flowers of the
    Pyrenees, so I over-tipped him. That made him happy. It felt
    comfortable to be in a country where it is so simple to make people
    happy. You can never tell whether a Spanish waiter will thank you.
    Everything is on such a clear financial basis in France. It is the
    simplest country to live in. No one makes things complicated by
    becoming your friend for any obscure reason. If you want people to like
    you, you only have to spend a little money. I spent a little money and
    the waiter liked me. He appreciated my valuable qualities. He would be
    glad to see me back. I would dine there again some time and he would be
    glad to see me, and could want me at his table. It would be a sincere
    liking because it would have a sound basis. I was back in France next
    morning and I tipped everyone a bit too much at the hotel to make more
    friends, and left on the morning train for San Sebastian. At the
    station I did not tip the porter more than I should have because I did
    not think I would ever see him again. I only wanted a few good French
    friends in Bayonne to make me welcome in case I should come back there
    again. I know that if they remembered me their friendship would be
    It is ironic that I’m writing these comments on an airplane from
    Barcelona to Chicago, returning home from a month in Greece, Turkey and
    Spain where I engaged in such practices myself. However, I do think
    that in the main my entry into the local cultures was in such a way
    that I tried to avoid much of such behavior as I could. It is difficult
    to avoid, and many of the tourist workers in many countries even
    encourage such behavior in the visitors to increase their own earnings.
    This great novel of Hemingway should not be missed. It is alive today as it was when published nearly 80 years ago.

      الوقت/التاريخ الآن هو الثلاثاء 19 يونيو - 6:56