Hemingway is hit or miss, for me. I fell in love with A Farewell to Arms. I found The Old Man and the Sea a bit sluggish (though, admittedly, this is the point). I have thoroughly enjoyed some of the short stories, and wondered why in the world I bothered to read others. The Sun Also Rises was, for me, a book I could have skipped. I know Hemingway is one of the great American authors. I think he is brilliant at times, but for most of this novel, I found myself “laughing out loud” at all the uses of words like “grand,” which called to mind my favorite author, Salinger, and his enormous dislike for phonies. Now, I’m not saying Hemingway was a phony, by any means. In fact, I think it a testament to his art that he succeeded, after being a journalist, so extraordinarily, in spite of criticism from some of the other expatriates, such as Gertrude Stein. Alas, The Sun Also Rises was no A Farewell to Arms. I don’t think it even rivaled The Torrents of Spring. I was not at all intrigued until the final 40 pages or so, when the story moved to Spain and the bullfights. Here, in the deepest, darkest, and most romantic portion of the novel, Hemingway was masterful, and I couldn’t tear myself away. I just wish the first 60% of the novel was just as inspired.
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