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Las nieves del Kilimanjaro
"El Kilimanjaro es una montaña cubierta de nieve de 5895 metros de altura, y dicen que es la más alta de África. Su nombre es, en masai, «Ngàje Ngài», «la Casa de Dios». Cerca de la cima se encuentra el esqueleto seco y helado de un leopardo, y nadie ha podido explicarse nunca qué estaba buscando el leopardo por aquellas alturas." Se trata de un fragmento de la novela Las nieves del Kilimanjaro, publicada por Ernest Hemingway en el año 1936. En ella, el popular escritor americano describe la vida de un literato que espera la muerte en la montaña más alta de África.
27 pages, ebook
First published January 1, 1936
About the author
Ernest Hemingway
1,754 books29.1k followersTerse literary style of Ernest Miller Hemingway, an American writer, ambulance driver of World War I , journalist, and expatriate in Paris during the 1920s, marks short stories and novels, such as
The Sun Also Rises
(1926) and
The Old Man and the Sea
(1952), which concern courageous, lonely characters, and he won the Nobel Prize of 1954 for literature.
Economical and understated style of Hemingway strongly influenced 20th-century fiction, whereas his life of adventure and his public image influenced later generations. Hemingway produced most of his work between the mid-1920s and the mid-1950s. He published seven novels, six short story collections and two nonfiction works. Survivors published posthumously three novels, four collections of short stories, and three nonfiction works. People consider many of these classics.
After high school, Hemingway reported for a few months for the Kansas City Star before leaving for the Italian front to enlist. In 1918, someone seriously wounded him, who returned home. His wartime experiences formed the basis for his novel A Farewell to Arms . In 1922, he married Hadley Richardson, the first of his four wives. The couple moved, and he worked as a foreign correspondent and fell under the influence of the modernist writers and artists of the expatriate community of the "lost generation" of 1920s.
After his divorce of 1927 from Hadley Richardson, Hemingway married Pauline Pfeiffer. At the Spanish civil war, he acted as a journalist; afterward, they divorced, and he wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls . Hemingway maintained permanent residences in Key West, Florida, and Cuba during the 1930s and 1940s.
Martha Gellhorn served as third wife of Hemingway in 1940. When he met Mary Welsh in London during World War II, they separated; he presently witnessed at the Normandy landings and liberation of Paris.
Shortly after 1952, Hemingway went on safari to Africa, where two plane crashes almost killed him and left him in pain and ill health for much of the rest of his life. Nevertheless, in 1959, he moved from Cuba to Ketchum, Idaho, where he committed suicide in the summer of 1961.
Economical and understated style of Hemingway strongly influenced 20th-century fiction, whereas his life of adventure and his public image influenced later generations. Hemingway produced most of his work between the mid-1920s and the mid-1950s. He published seven novels, six short story collections and two nonfiction works. Survivors published posthumously three novels, four collections of short stories, and three nonfiction works. People consider many of these classics.
After high school, Hemingway reported for a few months for the Kansas City Star before leaving for the Italian front to enlist. In 1918, someone seriously wounded him, who returned home. His wartime experiences formed the basis for his novel A Farewell to Arms . In 1922, he married Hadley Richardson, the first of his four wives. The couple moved, and he worked as a foreign correspondent and fell under the influence of the modernist writers and artists of the expatriate community of the "lost generation" of 1920s.
After his divorce of 1927 from Hadley Richardson, Hemingway married Pauline Pfeiffer. At the Spanish civil war, he acted as a journalist; afterward, they divorced, and he wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls . Hemingway maintained permanent residences in Key West, Florida, and Cuba during the 1930s and 1940s.
Martha Gellhorn served as third wife of Hemingway in 1940. When he met Mary Welsh in London during World War II, they separated; he presently witnessed at the Normandy landings and liberation of Paris.
Shortly after 1952, Hemingway went on safari to Africa, where two plane crashes almost killed him and left him in pain and ill health for much of the rest of his life. Nevertheless, in 1959, he moved from Cuba to Ketchum, Idaho, where he committed suicide in the summer of 1961.
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October 17, 2021
The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories, Ernest Hemingway
The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories is a collection of short stories by Ernest Hemingway, published in 1961. The title story is considered by some to be the best story Hemingway ever wrote. All the stories were earlier published.
The collection includes the following stories:
The Snows of Kilimanjaro,
A Clean, Well-Lighted Place,
A Day's Wait,
The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio,
Fathers and Sons,
In Another Country,
The Killers,
A Way You'll Never Be,
Fifty Grand,
and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber.
عنوانهای چاپ شده در ایران: «برفهای کلیمانجارو»؛ «برفهای کیلیمنجارو»؛ «برفهای کیلیمنجارو و داستانهای دیگر»؛ «برفهای کلیمانجارو و چند داستان کوتاه»؛ «برفهای کلیمانجارو و داستانهای دیگر»؛ «برفهای کلیمانجارو و شانزده داستان دیگر»؛ انتشاراتیها: (پژواک، تجربه، نشر الکترونیک، پژواک کوکبیان، جامی، لیان، ناژ، افق)؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سال 1975میلادی
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: جواد شمس؛ تهران، نشر پژواک؛ سال1352، در59ص، چاپ دیگر تهران، پژواک، آبان، سال1352، در228ص؛ موضوع: داستانهای نویسندگان ایالات متحده آمریکا - سده 20م
عنوان: برفهای کیلیمنجارو و داستانهای دیگر؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: نجف دریابندری؛ تهران، تجربه، سال1378، در40ص؛ شابک9646481647؛ چاپ دیگر تهران، نشر الکترونیک، در سال1394؛ در41ص؛ شابک 9786008075325؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو و چند داستان کوتاه؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: پژواک کوکبیان؛ تهران، پژواک کوکبیان، سال1380؛ در100ص؛ شابک9643609170؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو و داستانهای دیگر؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: شجاغ الدین شفا؛ تهران، جامی، سال1388، در239ص؛ شابک9789642575596؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو و شانزده داستان دیگر؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: عباس سعیدی؛ تهران، لیان، سال1389، در193ص؛ شابک9789648608229؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: ناهید شهبازی مقدم؛ تهران، ناژ، سال1393، در207ص؛ شابک9786006110080؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: ناهید شهبازی مقدم؛ تهران، افق، سال1395، در58ص؛ شابک9786003532199؛
نقل از متن: (دور و بر هر چادری از این پرنده ها پیدا میشود.؛ منتها کسی به آنها توجهی نمیکند، آدم تا دست از خودش برندارد، نمیمیرد.) پایان نقل
برفهای کلیمانجارو، اندیشه ها، و ترسهای «همینگوی»، درباره ی مرگ است، ترسی که به کارهای ناتمام ایشان، در زندگی شخصی خویش، بازمیگردند ...؛ به داستانهای نانوشته اش، و بازتاب این اندیشه ها را، در شخصیت اصلی داستان میبینیم؛ در جایی از داستان مینویسند: (اگر درست از کار درمیآوَرد ممکن بود همه را فشرده کند، و در چند جمله به زبان بیاورد)؛ و بعد روایتهای کوتاهش را آغاز میکند، با جملات کوتاه و سریع و بدون اضافات...؛ روایتهایی که هرچه پیش میرویم، تکان دهنده تر، و تلختر میشوند، و ضربه هایشان را بیرحمانه، به خوانشگر وارد میکنند؛ به نظرم «برفهای کلیمانجارو» زندگینامه ی جذابی از «همینگوی» است، کاش لحظه ی درگذشتش از این سرای هم، برای «همینگوی»، همانقدر آرام و آنقدر شیرین بوده باشد، که ایشان آرزویش را داشتند
کلیمانجارو کوه برف پوشی به ارتفاع ششهزار و پانصد و هفتاد متر است که بلندترین قله ی آفریقا نیز هست؛ قله ی غربی آن «نگایه نگای ماسایی» نام دارد؛
نقل از متن: (مرد گفت: «خوبی اش این است که درد ندارد.؛ شروع که میشود تازه میفهمی.»؛ ــ واقعاً؟ ــ دقیقاً؛ فقط بابت بو خیلی شرمنده ام.؛ اذیت میکند.؛ ــ بس کن! چرا شرمنده باشی؟ مرد گفت: «نگاهشان کن؛ یا ریختش اینها را میکشاند اینجا یا بوش»؛ تختی که مرد روی آن خوابیده بود در سایه ی گسترده ی یک درخت گل ابریشم بود، و مرد از سایه که به آفتاب سوزان دشت نگاه میکرد؛ سه پرنده ی درشت دید، که به شکل کریهی نشسته بودند، و ده دوازده تای دیگر هم در آسمان میسریدند و سایه هاشان روی زمین جابجا میشد؛ مرد گفت: «اینها از روزیکه کامیون خراب شده همینجا ولو شده اند؛ امروز اولین بار است که نشسته اند روی زمین؛ اوایل نحوه ی پروازشان را با دقت تماشا میکردم تا اگر خواستم، در داستان استفاده کنم؛ حالا دیگر مسخره است»؛ زن گفت «کاش نمیکردی»؛ مرد گفت: «فعلاً که فقط حرف است؛ حرف که میزنم خیلی راحتتر است؛ اما نمیخواهم ناراحتت کنم»؛ زن گفت: «خودت هم میدانی که ناراحتم نمیکند؛ فقط خیلی عصبی هستم که کاری از دستم برنمیآید؛ باید سعی کنیم تا جاییکه میتوانیم آرام باشیم، تا هواپیما برسد»؛ ــ یا تا وقتی نرسد؛ ــ خواهش میکنم بگو ببینم چه کاری از دست من برمیآید؛ لابد کاری هست که من انجام بدهم؛ ــ این پا را قطع کن؛ شاید جلوش را بگیرد، گرچه شک دارم؛ یا یک تیر بزن و خلاص؛ تیرانداز ماهری هستی؛ خودم یادت دادم؛ مگه نه؟ ــ اینطوری حرف نزن، خواهش میکنم؛ دوست داری چیزی بخوانم برات؟ ــ چی بخوانی؟ ــ هر چی تو کیسه ی کتابها که نخوانده ایم؛ مرد گفت: «نمیتوانم گوش کنم؛ حرف زدن راحتتر است؛ دعوا میکنیم وقت میگذرد»؛ ــ من دعوا ندارم؛ هیچوقت اهل دعوا نبوده ام؛ بیا دیگر دعوا نکنیم؛ هر قدر هم عصبی شدیم مهم نیست؛ شاید امروز با یک کامیون دیگر برگردند؛ شاید ه�� هواپیما بیاید»؛ مرد گفت: «من که حتی نمیخواهم از اینجا تکان بخورم؛ رفتن دیگر معنی ندارد، غیر از اینکه کار تو را آسانتر کند»؛ ــ این بُزدلی است؛ ــ تو نمیتوانی بگذاری آدم راحت به حال خودش بمیرد و بد و بیراه نگویی؟ لیچار گفتن به من چه فایده ای دارد؟ ــ تو که قرار نیست بمیری؛ ــ چرند نگو؛ من همین الان هم کارم تمام است؛ باور نمیکنی از این لاشخورها بپرس؛ چشم گرداند به طرف آن پرنده های گنده ی کثیف که منقارشان را لای پرهاشان فرو برده بودند؛ پرنده ی چهارم به زمین نشست و با قدمهای تند دوید و سپس آهسته به طرف پرنده های دیگر لنگر برداشت؛ ــ اینها دور و بر هر اردوگاهی هستند؛ آدم حواسش نیست به آنها؛ اگر وا ندهی نمیمیری؛ ــ اینرا کجا خوانده ای؟ خدایی تو هم خلیها! ــ باید به فکر یکی دیگر باشی؛ مرد گفت: «به خدا من همیشه کارم همین بوده»؛ مرد دراز کشیده و مدتی آرام بود و هُرم لرزان گرمای دشت کناره ی بوته زار را تماشا میکرد؛ چند قوچ سفید و ریز در زردی دوردست دشت، به چشم میخوردند؛ یک گله گورخر سفید را هم در سبزی علفزار دید؛ آنجا اردوگاه دلپذیری بود با درختهای تنومند، در دامنه ی تپه ای با آب خوب و دم دست؛ آبگیر رو به خشکی هم بود و هر صبح یک دسته سنگ خوارک دورش میپریدند؛ زن که روی صندلی برزنتی کنار مرد نشسته بود گفت: «نمیخواهی چیزی بخوانم؟ نمه بادی بلند شده انگار»؛ ــ نه، دستت درد نکند؛ ــ شاید کامیون بیاید؛ ــ جهنم؛ اهمیتی نمیدهم؛ ــ من میدهم؛ ــ تو به خیلی چیزها اهمیت میدهی که من نمیدهم؛ ــ زیاد نیست، هَری؛ ــ نوشیدنی داریم؟ ــ برایت خوب نیست؛ توی کتابِ بلَک نوشته از هر گونه نوشیدنی الکلی پرهیز کنید؛ تو نباید مشروب بخوری؛ مرد داد زد: «مولو!» ــ بله، بُوانا ــ ویسکی و سودا بیاور؛ ــ چشم، بوانا؛ زن گفت: «نباید بخوری؛ وقتی میگویم وا نده منظورم همین است؛ نوشته ضرر دارد؛ من هم میدانم برایت خوب نیست»؛ مرد گفت: «نخیر، خیلی هم خوب است»؛ فکر کرد دیگر کارش تمام است؛ دیگر فرصت نمیکند تمامش کند؛ کار کشید به بگومگو سر مشروب؛ از وقتی قانقاریا به پای راستش افتاد، هیچ دردی حس نکرده بود، و وحشت هم با درد رفت، و خستگی شدیدی او را در خود گرفت و خشمی از اینکه میدید آخرش به اینجا رسیده است؛ برای این بلایی که حالا میآمد چندان کنجکاوی نشان نمیداد؛ سالهای سال فکرش را کرده بود، ولی حالا هیچ معنایی نداشت؛ عجیب است که وقتی خسته باشی، آسان میشود؛ حالا دیگر آن چیزهایی را که برای نوشتن جمع کرده بود تا آنقدر یاد بگیرد که خوب بنویسدشان کنار میگذاشت و نمینوشت؛ ولی خب، معلوم هم نیست که از عهده ی نوشتنشان برنیاید؛ شاید هم هرگز نمیتوانست بنویسد و برای همین دست به قلم نمیبرد؛ حالا دیگر نمیتوانست مطمئن باشد؛ زن به او نگاه کرد، لیوان به دست لبش را گزید و گفت: «کاش اصلاً نیامده بودیم؛ تو پاریس میماندیم، تو دچار همچو چیزی نمیشدی؛ همیشه میگفتی پاریس را دوست داری؛ میماندیم پاریس یا میرفتیم یک جای دیگر؛ من هر جا که میگفتی حاضر بودم بیایم؛ گفتم حاضرم هر جا بخواهی بیایم؛ اگر میخواستی شکار بزنی میرفتیم مجارستان، خیلی هم راحت بودیم»؛ مرد گفت: «برو بابا تو هم با پول کوفتیت»؛ زن گفت: «این دیگر نامردی است؛ همیشه در اختیارت بوده؛ مال من و تو نداریم؛ من همه چیزم را گذاشتم وسط و هر جا تو خواستی همراهت آمدم، هر کاری تو خواستی کردم؛ ولی کاش به اینجا نیامده بودیم»؛ ــ تو که گفتی دوست داری؛ ــ آن وقت که گفتم تو حالت خوب بود؛ ولی الان متنفرم؛ آخر چرا باید پای تو اینجور شد؛ مگر ما چه کار کرده بودیم که این بلا به سرمان آمد؟»؛ به زن نگاه کرد و گفت: «ظاهراً اشتباه کردم که همان اول وقتی زخم شد، یادم رفت تنتور یُد بریزم؛ بعد هم بی توجهی کردم، چون زخم ای من هیچوقت عفونت نمیکردند؛ وضعش که بدتر شد به خاطر محلول رقیق کاربولیک بود، داروهای ضدعفونی دیگر تمام شده بود، و کاربولیک رگهای نازک پا را از کار انداخت، و باعث شد که قانقاریا شروع شود؛ باز هم چیزی میخواهی؟»؛ ــ منظورم این نیست؛ ــ اگه به جای آن راننده ی کیکویوی دست و پاچلفتی یک مکانیک خوب خبر کرده بودیم، روغن موتور را نگاه میکرد، یاتاقان نمیسوزاند؛ ــ منظورم این نیست؛ ــ اگر کس و کارت را در اولد وست بوری خراب شده، ساراتوگا و پالم بیچ ول نکرده بودی مجبور نبودی مرا به...؛ ــ من تو را دوست داشته ام؛ بی انصافی نکن؛ من حالا هم دوستت دارم؛ همیشه دوستت داشته ام و دارم؛ تو دوستم نداری؟ مرد گفت: «نه، گمان نمیکنم؛ هیچوقت دوستت نداشته ام»؛ ــ هری، هیچ معلوم است چه میگویی؟ زده به سرت؟ ــ نه؛ من سری ندارم که به آن بزند؛ زن گفت: «این را نخور؛ عزیزم، خواهش میکنم نخور؛ باید هر کاری از دستمان برمیآید بکنیم»؛ مرد گفت: «تو بکن، من خسته ام»)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 23/08/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 24/07/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories is a collection of short stories by Ernest Hemingway, published in 1961. The title story is considered by some to be the best story Hemingway ever wrote. All the stories were earlier published.
The collection includes the following stories:
The Snows of Kilimanjaro,
A Clean, Well-Lighted Place,
A Day's Wait,
The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio,
Fathers and Sons,
In Another Country,
The Killers,
A Way You'll Never Be,
Fifty Grand,
and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber.
عنوانهای چاپ شده در ایران: «برفهای کلیمانجارو»؛ «برفهای کیلیمنجارو»؛ «برفهای کیلیمنجارو و داستانهای دیگر»؛ «برفهای کلیمانجارو و چند داستان کوتاه»؛ «برفهای کلیمانجارو و داستانهای دیگر»؛ «برفهای کلیمانجارو و شانزده داستان دیگر»؛ انتشاراتیها: (پژواک، تجربه، نشر الکترونیک، پژواک کوکبیان، جامی، لیان، ناژ، افق)؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سال 1975میلادی
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: جواد شمس؛ تهران، نشر پژواک؛ سال1352، در59ص، چاپ دیگر تهران، پژواک، آبان، سال1352، در228ص؛ موضوع: داستانهای نویسندگان ایالات متحده آمریکا - سده 20م
عنوان: برفهای کیلیمنجارو و داستانهای دیگر؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: نجف دریابندری؛ تهران، تجربه، سال1378، در40ص؛ شابک9646481647؛ چاپ دیگر تهران، نشر الکترونیک، در سال1394؛ در41ص؛ شابک 9786008075325؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو و چند داستان کوتاه؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: پژواک کوکبیان؛ تهران، پژواک کوکبیان، سال1380؛ در100ص؛ شابک9643609170؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو و داستانهای دیگر؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: شجاغ الدین شفا؛ تهران، جامی، سال1388، در239ص؛ شابک9789642575596؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو و شانزده داستان دیگر؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: عباس سعیدی؛ تهران، لیان، سال1389، در193ص؛ شابک9789648608229؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: ناهید شهبازی مقدم؛ تهران، ناژ، سال1393، در207ص؛ شابک9786006110080؛
عنوان: برفهای کلیمانجارو؛ نویسنده: ارنست همینگوی؛ مترجم: ناهید شهبازی مقدم؛ تهران، افق، سال1395، در58ص؛ شابک9786003532199؛
نقل از متن: (دور و بر هر چادری از این پرنده ها پیدا میشود.؛ منتها کسی به آنها توجهی نمیکند، آدم تا دست از خودش برندارد، نمیمیرد.) پایان نقل
برفهای کلیمانجارو، اندیشه ها، و ترسهای «همینگوی»، درباره ی مرگ است، ترسی که به کارهای ناتمام ایشان، در زندگی شخصی خویش، بازمیگردند ...؛ به داستانهای نانوشته اش، و بازتاب این اندیشه ها را، در شخصیت اصلی داستان میبینیم؛ در جایی از داستان مینویسند: (اگر درست از کار درمیآوَرد ممکن بود همه را فشرده کند، و در چند جمله به زبان بیاورد)؛ و بعد روایتهای کوتاهش را آغاز میکند، با جملات کوتاه و سریع و بدون اضافات...؛ روایتهایی که هرچه پیش میرویم، تکان دهنده تر، و تلختر میشوند، و ضربه هایشان را بیرحمانه، به خوانشگر وارد میکنند؛ به نظرم «برفهای کلیمانجارو» زندگینامه ی جذابی از «همینگوی» است، کاش لحظه ی درگذشتش از این سرای هم، برای «همینگوی»، همانقدر آرام و آنقدر شیرین بوده باشد، که ایشان آرزویش را داشتند
کلیمانجارو کوه برف پوشی به ارتفاع ششهزار و پانصد و هفتاد متر است که بلندترین قله ی آفریقا نیز هست؛ قله ی غربی آن «نگایه نگای ماسایی» نام دارد؛
نقل از متن: (مرد گفت: «خوبی اش این است که درد ندارد.؛ شروع که میشود تازه میفهمی.»؛ ــ واقعاً؟ ــ دقیقاً؛ فقط بابت بو خیلی شرمنده ام.؛ اذیت میکند.؛ ــ بس کن! چرا شرمنده باشی؟ مرد گفت: «نگاهشان کن؛ یا ریختش اینها را میکشاند اینجا یا بوش»؛ تختی که مرد روی آن خوابیده بود در سایه ی گسترده ی یک درخت گل ابریشم بود، و مرد از سایه که به آفتاب سوزان دشت نگاه میکرد؛ سه پرنده ی درشت دید، که به شکل کریهی نشسته بودند، و ده دوازده تای دیگر هم در آسمان میسریدند و سایه هاشان روی زمین جابجا میشد؛ مرد گفت: «اینها از روزیکه کامیون خراب شده همینجا ولو شده اند؛ امروز اولین بار است که نشسته اند روی زمین؛ اوایل نحوه ی پروازشان را با دقت تماشا میکردم تا اگر خواستم، در داستان استفاده کنم؛ حالا دیگر مسخره است»؛ زن گفت «کاش نمیکردی»؛ مرد گفت: «فعلاً که فقط حرف است؛ حرف که میزنم خیلی راحتتر است؛ اما نمیخواهم ناراحتت کنم»؛ زن گفت: «خودت هم میدانی که ناراحتم نمیکند؛ فقط خیلی عصبی هستم که کاری از دستم برنمیآید؛ باید سعی کنیم تا جاییکه میتوانیم آرام باشیم، تا هواپیما برسد»؛ ــ یا تا وقتی نرسد؛ ــ خواهش میکنم بگو ببینم چه کاری از دست من برمیآید؛ لابد کاری هست که من انجام بدهم؛ ــ این پا را قطع کن؛ شاید جلوش را بگیرد، گرچه شک دارم؛ یا یک تیر بزن و خلاص؛ تیرانداز ماهری هستی؛ خودم یادت دادم؛ مگه نه؟ ــ اینطوری حرف نزن، خواهش میکنم؛ دوست داری چیزی بخوانم برات؟ ــ چی بخوانی؟ ــ هر چی تو کیسه ی کتابها که نخوانده ایم؛ مرد گفت: «نمیتوانم گوش کنم؛ حرف زدن راحتتر است؛ دعوا میکنیم وقت میگذرد»؛ ــ من دعوا ندارم؛ هیچوقت اهل دعوا نبوده ام؛ بیا دیگر دعوا نکنیم؛ هر قدر هم عصبی شدیم مهم نیست؛ شاید امروز با یک کامیون دیگر برگردند؛ شاید ه�� هواپیما بیاید»؛ مرد گفت: «من که حتی نمیخواهم از اینجا تکان بخورم؛ رفتن دیگر معنی ندارد، غیر از اینکه کار تو را آسانتر کند»؛ ــ این بُزدلی است؛ ــ تو نمیتوانی بگذاری آدم راحت به حال خودش بمیرد و بد و بیراه نگویی؟ لیچار گفتن به من چه فایده ای دارد؟ ــ تو که قرار نیست بمیری؛ ــ چرند نگو؛ من همین الان هم کارم تمام است؛ باور نمیکنی از این لاشخورها بپرس؛ چشم گرداند به طرف آن پرنده های گنده ی کثیف که منقارشان را لای پرهاشان فرو برده بودند؛ پرنده ی چهارم به زمین نشست و با قدمهای تند دوید و سپس آهسته به طرف پرنده های دیگر لنگر برداشت؛ ــ اینها دور و بر هر اردوگاهی هستند؛ آدم حواسش نیست به آنها؛ اگر وا ندهی نمیمیری؛ ــ اینرا کجا خوانده ای؟ خدایی تو هم خلیها! ــ باید به فکر یکی دیگر باشی؛ مرد گفت: «به خدا من همیشه کارم همین بوده»؛ مرد دراز کشیده و مدتی آرام بود و هُرم لرزان گرمای دشت کناره ی بوته زار را تماشا میکرد؛ چند قوچ سفید و ریز در زردی دوردست دشت، به چشم میخوردند؛ یک گله گورخر سفید را هم در سبزی علفزار دید؛ آنجا اردوگاه دلپذیری بود با درختهای تنومند، در دامنه ی تپه ای با آب خوب و دم دست؛ آبگیر رو به خشکی هم بود و هر صبح یک دسته سنگ خوارک دورش میپریدند؛ زن که روی صندلی برزنتی کنار مرد نشسته بود گفت: «نمیخواهی چیزی بخوانم؟ نمه بادی بلند شده انگار»؛ ــ نه، دستت درد نکند؛ ــ شاید کامیون بیاید؛ ــ جهنم؛ اهمیتی نمیدهم؛ ــ من میدهم؛ ــ تو به خیلی چیزها اهمیت میدهی که من نمیدهم؛ ــ زیاد نیست، هَری؛ ــ نوشیدنی داریم؟ ــ برایت خوب نیست؛ توی کتابِ بلَک نوشته از هر گونه نوشیدنی الکلی پرهیز کنید؛ تو نباید مشروب بخوری؛ مرد داد زد: «مولو!» ــ بله، بُوانا ــ ویسکی و سودا بیاور؛ ــ چشم، بوانا؛ زن گفت: «نباید بخوری؛ وقتی میگویم وا نده منظورم همین است؛ نوشته ضرر دارد؛ من هم میدانم برایت خوب نیست»؛ مرد گفت: «نخیر، خیلی هم خوب است»؛ فکر کرد دیگر کارش تمام است؛ دیگر فرصت نمیکند تمامش کند؛ کار کشید به بگومگو سر مشروب؛ از وقتی قانقاریا به پای راستش افتاد، هیچ دردی حس نکرده بود، و وحشت هم با درد رفت، و خستگی شدیدی او را در خود گرفت و خشمی از اینکه میدید آخرش به اینجا رسیده است؛ برای این بلایی که حالا میآمد چندان کنجکاوی نشان نمیداد؛ سالهای سال فکرش را کرده بود، ولی حالا هیچ معنایی نداشت؛ عجیب است که وقتی خسته باشی، آسان میشود؛ حالا دیگر آن چیزهایی را که برای نوشتن جمع کرده بود تا آنقدر یاد بگیرد که خوب بنویسدشان کنار میگذاشت و نمینوشت؛ ولی خب، معلوم هم نیست که از عهده ی نوشتنشان برنیاید؛ شاید هم هرگز نمیتوانست بنویسد و برای همین دست به قلم نمیبرد؛ حالا دیگر نمیتوانست مطمئن باشد؛ زن به او نگاه کرد، لیوان به دست لبش را گزید و گفت: «کاش اصلاً نیامده بودیم؛ تو پاریس میماندیم، تو دچار همچو چیزی نمیشدی؛ همیشه میگفتی پاریس را دوست داری؛ میماندیم پاریس یا میرفتیم یک جای دیگر؛ من هر جا که میگفتی حاضر بودم بیایم؛ گفتم حاضرم هر جا بخواهی بیایم؛ اگر میخواستی شکار بزنی میرفتیم مجارستان، خیلی هم راحت بودیم»؛ مرد گفت: «برو بابا تو هم با پول کوفتیت»؛ زن گفت: «این دیگر نامردی است؛ همیشه در اختیارت بوده؛ مال من و تو نداریم؛ من همه چیزم را گذاشتم وسط و هر جا تو خواستی همراهت آمدم، هر کاری تو خواستی کردم؛ ولی کاش به اینجا نیامده بودیم»؛ ــ تو که گفتی دوست داری؛ ــ آن وقت که گفتم تو حالت خوب بود؛ ولی الان متنفرم؛ آخر چرا باید پای تو اینجور شد؛ مگر ما چه کار کرده بودیم که این بلا به سرمان آمد؟»؛ به زن نگاه کرد و گفت: «ظاهراً اشتباه کردم که همان اول وقتی زخم شد، یادم رفت تنتور یُد بریزم؛ بعد هم بی توجهی کردم، چون زخم ای من هیچوقت عفونت نمیکردند؛ وضعش که بدتر شد به خاطر محلول رقیق کاربولیک بود، داروهای ضدعفونی دیگر تمام شده بود، و کاربولیک رگهای نازک پا را از کار انداخت، و باعث شد که قانقاریا شروع شود؛ باز هم چیزی میخواهی؟»؛ ــ منظورم این نیست؛ ــ اگه به جای آن راننده ی کیکویوی دست و پاچلفتی یک مکانیک خوب خبر کرده بودیم، روغن موتور را نگاه میکرد، یاتاقان نمیسوزاند؛ ــ منظورم این نیست؛ ــ اگر کس و کارت را در اولد وست بوری خراب شده، ساراتوگا و پالم بیچ ول نکرده بودی مجبور نبودی مرا به...؛ ــ من تو را دوست داشته ام؛ بی انصافی نکن؛ من حالا هم دوستت دارم؛ همیشه دوستت داشته ام و دارم؛ تو دوستم نداری؟ مرد گفت: «نه، گمان نمیکنم؛ هیچوقت دوستت نداشته ام»؛ ــ هری، هیچ معلوم است چه میگویی؟ زده به سرت؟ ــ نه؛ من سری ندارم که به آن بزند؛ زن گفت: «این را نخور؛ عزیزم، خواهش میکنم نخور؛ باید هر کاری از دستمان برمیآید بکنیم»؛ مرد گفت: «تو بکن، من خسته ام»)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 23/08/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 24/07/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
December 13, 2014
Reading Hemingway, for me, feels like panning for gold. At the beginning I am really enthusiastic. People have told me about the gold, I believe in the gold, and I want to find it. After the first couple stony pages, my excitement starts to waver. Where is this aforesaid treasure? My attention wanders off. My interest is fading. I'm almost inclined to call it off. There's nothing there for me. But I keep panning, because of this disbelief that I may not be able to discover what so many have before me. And then - suddenly - I see a glimmer at the pebbly bottom of the river. The tiniest crumb of gold, I've found it. It's really there! Then it's back to stones and pebbles. Stones and pebbles. Stones and pebbles. What's that? Something shiny? You don't think - gold again?! Indeed! Several crumbs! A nugget! My first assessment was too hasty. There's gold in Hemingway. You just gotta be patient. How wonderful that my endeavours have paid off! I'm converted, the gold rush is justified! But why are the nuggets getting so rare again? Are they simply slipping my attention? Are they really there? And why is panning getting so frigging boring again?
Maybe the gold was just an illusion. Maybe I just don't see it. Maybe it's not the right time. I don't know.
Maybe the gold was just an illusion. Maybe I just don't see it. Maybe it's not the right time. I don't know.
January 7, 2018
I enjoy reading short stories, either in collections or as stand alones. When I look back at what I have read in the last two years, I notice many books under two hundred pages. Because I have a tendency to go into a proverbial reading slump in between quality novels, these short stories serve the purpose of preventing a slump and keeping my reading mind fresh. As in previous years, a square on classics bingo is to read a classic short story. Having read Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea last year, a Pulitzer winner that moved me, I selected The Snows of Kilimanjaro to fulfill this square. In this short work, Hemingway once again proves that his writing is Nobel worthy.
First written in 1936, The Snows of Kilimanjaro features a writer named Harry who has gone on an African safari with his wife, or perhaps girlfriend. While in Africa, he scratches his knee on a thorn and develops gangrene in his right leg. As Harry's condition deteriorates toward death, he looks back at the key moments in his life which lead him to being at the present in Africa. With enough material to fill an entire book, Hemingway moves from Harry's past to present interspersed with his significant other's reminiscing as he leaves his readers hanging for the duration of this short tale. While reading, one can only hope that Hemingway would have followed up this story by revisiting Harry with a full length novella discussing his life and stories in more minute details.
Like Hemingway, Harry is a writer. As he reflects on the life passing before his eyes, he reflects on his army service in World War I, his convalescence, flashbacks, time in Paris, up until the present in Africa. With the gangrene poisoning setting in, one does not know if Harry is living in the present or the past. Meanwhile, his significant other reflects on her own past: her first husband, his tragic death, her children; in sum, a life worthy of the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Harry detests the rich and yet the two ended up together in a relationship that saved them both from the throes of depression. Both were on the verge of turning the corner when Harry contracted gangrene. Hemingway leaves the reader to imagine what will happen to his significant other moving forward.
At the story's onset, Hemingway, or perhaps an editor, notes that Kilimanjaro is the highest peak in Africa. On the summit's western edge, there lies a leopard carcass and no one can fathom what a leopard was doing at that altitude. Like Harry, perhaps the leopard was near death or had come to Kilimanjaro to reflect on his life flashing before his eyes. One never learns the purpose of the leopard in the story as this opening note is its only mention. In just thirty short pages, a reader can experience Hemingway's brilliance, leaving one compelled to reach for one of his full length novels. As I try to vary my reading, it may be awhile until I revisit Hemingway again although suffice it to say this will not be the last time I read his work. A true story telling master, Hemingway's work is always a treat to read, regardless of its length.
5 stars
First written in 1936, The Snows of Kilimanjaro features a writer named Harry who has gone on an African safari with his wife, or perhaps girlfriend. While in Africa, he scratches his knee on a thorn and develops gangrene in his right leg. As Harry's condition deteriorates toward death, he looks back at the key moments in his life which lead him to being at the present in Africa. With enough material to fill an entire book, Hemingway moves from Harry's past to present interspersed with his significant other's reminiscing as he leaves his readers hanging for the duration of this short tale. While reading, one can only hope that Hemingway would have followed up this story by revisiting Harry with a full length novella discussing his life and stories in more minute details.
Like Hemingway, Harry is a writer. As he reflects on the life passing before his eyes, he reflects on his army service in World War I, his convalescence, flashbacks, time in Paris, up until the present in Africa. With the gangrene poisoning setting in, one does not know if Harry is living in the present or the past. Meanwhile, his significant other reflects on her own past: her first husband, his tragic death, her children; in sum, a life worthy of the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Harry detests the rich and yet the two ended up together in a relationship that saved them both from the throes of depression. Both were on the verge of turning the corner when Harry contracted gangrene. Hemingway leaves the reader to imagine what will happen to his significant other moving forward.
At the story's onset, Hemingway, or perhaps an editor, notes that Kilimanjaro is the highest peak in Africa. On the summit's western edge, there lies a leopard carcass and no one can fathom what a leopard was doing at that altitude. Like Harry, perhaps the leopard was near death or had come to Kilimanjaro to reflect on his life flashing before his eyes. One never learns the purpose of the leopard in the story as this opening note is its only mention. In just thirty short pages, a reader can experience Hemingway's brilliance, leaving one compelled to reach for one of his full length novels. As I try to vary my reading, it may be awhile until I revisit Hemingway again although suffice it to say this will not be the last time I read his work. A true story telling master, Hemingway's work is always a treat to read, regardless of its length.
5 stars
October 5, 2023
Nineteen short stories, many of them interrelated and/or semi biographical, set in the United States and Europe in the early first half of the twentieth century. Lots of fishing and bullfighting, typical Hemingway. Hemingway, as is his style, managed to reveal human emotion and tenderness at the same time that he is writing about human adversity and tragedy. Also features the 25 page 'Snows of Kilimanjaro' from which Hemingway himself managed to complete a film script for the same named Hollywood blockbuster. 4 out of 12, Two Stars is the best this can get from me.
2011 read
2011 read
January 25, 2018
It was never what he had done, but always what he could do. (6)
Air. Fresh air. Clarity for the mind. A pause. Another view. Many things. Many things can be found in a white landscape. The snow hides many secrets. The beginning and the end of everything, there, on the top of Kilimanjaro. Harry knows it now. A little too late.
Wait, it is never too late, you say? Nonsense. Sometimes it is
too
damn
late.
A couple, Harry and Helen. They are in Africa. He is dying of gangrene; she is by his side, taking care of him. This is my first Hemingway and I really enjoyed it. His writing—at least in this short story—has the ability of conveying the inner process of one conflicted soul. He described feelings and memories with such beauty and acuity that I felt completely captivated. I do not care so much about the plot if you let me see what is inside somebody's mind by following the inextricably fascinating rhythm of your prose. Hemingway wrote. I followed. I got hurt, then healed while staring at the ceiling with that dreadful book next to me.
I did not know what to expect, to be honest. I do not know if this was the best short story to start my journey with this writer (whose work has also been described as... “painful”; I am officially afraid of his novels now). But I saw it. I felt it. During the whole time I was reading this story, I felt the air getting heavier. It was filled with nostalgia and regret: powerful things that can choke you to death. Death. It does not sound so scary when you start thinking about regret. The story you could have written. The call you should have made. The kiss you should have given. The confession you could have shared. The vulnerability you should not have hidden. The words you could have said; the words you should have swallowed. The life you should have lived. To the fullest. Whatever that is.
Death cannot be avoided. But regret... that unbearable weight upon your chest. That stubborn attitude of waiting for tomorrow knowing there are limits. Unforgivable. I have no excuse to justify mine. No good excuse, at least.
“Never look back.” “I don't regret anything”. Is that possible? Is that even human? We are swinging between the avoidable and our humanity.
Some riddles cannot be answered.
You kept from thinking and it was all marvellous. You were equipped with good insides so that you did not go to pieces that way, the way most of them had, and you made an attitude that you cared nothing for the work you used to do, now that you could no longer do it. But, in yourself, you said that you would write about these people... But he would never do it, because each day of not writing, of comfort, of being that which he despised, dulled his ability and softened his will to work so that, finally, he did no work at all. (5)
You cannot stop death. He kindly stops for you, a poet once wrote. He awaits by your side, resting his head on the foot of your bed while contemplating the setting sun. A bicycle policeman. A bird. A hyena.
But regret chokes. Slowly. Inexorably. Taking away all trace of existence while you are still breathing. The hunger for living. The desire of doing. Stillness.
A bundle of miserable contradictions. There are few things so human as regret.
March 31, 15
* Also on my blog.
March 16, 2017
I picked up this collection of ten Ernest Hemingway short stories when I was looking for Literature (with a capital L) to suggest to my real-life book club for its monthly read (whoever is hosting book club that month is responsible for nominating 5 or 6 books, and then everyone in attendance votes). Poor Hemingway was a no-vote-getter; North and South won in a landslide. But since (a) I'd already brought this book home from the library, (b) I like short stories, and (c) I felt like I needed to add more Hemingway to my life than the one or two short stories I'd read in the past, I decided to read this book anyway.
These stories were written in the 1920s and 1930s. Ernest was a good-looking guy when he was young:
Maybe his good looks and intelligence and talent made it more difficult for him to be happy and satisfied in life; I don't know. In any case, he lived an adventurous and problematic life (he was married four times, had any number of affairs, and committed suicide at age 61 due to serious illness).
Hemingway had a somewhat unique and testosterone-soaked code of honor in which dignity and courage were the paramount virtues, and that comes through pretty clearly in most of these stories. They're chock-full of violence and brutality and various types of unpleasantness:
* detailed, brutal scenes of hunting on an African safari in "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber"
* a man dying of an infected leg in "The Snows of Kilimanjaro"
* a fixed (or is it?) boxing match in "Fifty Grand"
* hit men on the prowl in "The Killers"
* men suffering both physical and mental war wounds in ... several stories.
The women characters in these stories are of the ball-and-chain variety and/or actively predatory and cruel; the first and last stories in particular have some really nasty relationship issues. Some of the stories are so slice-of-life that I'm not sure what their point was.
It would be very easy, especially in our day and age, to be dismissive of his stories. I can't say that the values espoused in them really speak to me in any profound or moving way.
And yet there's something in these stories, often below the surface of his simply-told tales, that has worked its way into my head and pokes at me and my comfortable life. "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" is, at least in part, a cautionary story about using your talents and not letting life pass you by because it's easier to say "I'll do that sometime later." These stories have made me think a little harder about being, and doing, what is important to me, even if they're not the same things that Hemingway thought were important.
These stories were written in the 1920s and 1930s. Ernest was a good-looking guy when he was young:
Maybe his good looks and intelligence and talent made it more difficult for him to be happy and satisfied in life; I don't know. In any case, he lived an adventurous and problematic life (he was married four times, had any number of affairs, and committed suicide at age 61 due to serious illness).
Hemingway had a somewhat unique and testosterone-soaked code of honor in which dignity and courage were the paramount virtues, and that comes through pretty clearly in most of these stories. They're chock-full of violence and brutality and various types of unpleasantness:
* detailed, brutal scenes of hunting on an African safari in "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber"
* a man dying of an infected leg in "The Snows of Kilimanjaro"
* a fixed (or is it?) boxing match in "Fifty Grand"
* hit men on the prowl in "The Killers"
* men suffering both physical and mental war wounds in ... several stories.
The women characters in these stories are of the ball-and-chain variety and/or actively predatory and cruel; the first and last stories in particular have some really nasty relationship issues. Some of the stories are so slice-of-life that I'm not sure what their point was.
It would be very easy, especially in our day and age, to be dismissive of his stories. I can't say that the values espoused in them really speak to me in any profound or moving way.
And yet there's something in these stories, often below the surface of his simply-told tales, that has worked its way into my head and pokes at me and my comfortable life. "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" is, at least in part, a cautionary story about using your talents and not letting life pass you by because it's easier to say "I'll do that sometime later." These stories have made me think a little harder about being, and doing, what is important to me, even if they're not the same things that Hemingway thought were important.
May 19, 2023
His latest novel.
Despite its unfinished form, probably one of its best.
The sensuality and languor that emerge as the characters' ambiguity in this triangular relationship are remarkable.
And as always, the dialogues and the silences of Hemingway.
A masterpiece without question.
Despite its unfinished form, probably one of its best.
The sensuality and languor that emerge as the characters' ambiguity in this triangular relationship are remarkable.
And as always, the dialogues and the silences of Hemingway.
A masterpiece without question.
March 4, 2018
A short story about regret from a dying man set in Africa.
October 24, 2021
I’d forgotten what a good short story writer Ernest Hemingway could be. This collection came out in 1961, the same year as the author’s death. But most of the stories were published in magazines in the 1920s and 30s, when he was at the height of his powers, and all were available in earlier volumes.
There’s an impressive range of work here, from the ambitious title story about a man dying of gangrene while on safari and slipping into and out of consciousness, remembering scenes from his (wasted) life – the story has the depth and richness of a novel – to the noir classic “The Killers,” which inspired two famous films and contains some very amusing gangster dialogue.
“Fifty Grand” takes you into the world of boxing (there’s also a boxer in “The Killers”), and has a narrative left hook you might not see coming (I didn’t), while “The Gambler, The Nun, And The Radio” – about a man who’s been shot and his colourful hospital visitors – shows you just how funny Hemingway could be.
Also included is a classic story that I’ve read several times but still seems mysterious to me: “A Clean Well-Lighted Place,” about two waiters discussing the final patron in their bar before it closes for the night. The old, deaf man tried to kill himself the week before, and the contrasting reactions of the waiters is very telling.
Some stories in the book didn’t resonate with me, particularly the Nick Adams war tales. (I recall the Adams stories from In Our Time working much better.) But their themes – grace under pressure, war and death, initiations of various sorts – are in keeping with the rest of the volume.
I think my favourite story is the final one, “The Short And Happy Life Of Francis Macomber,” which feels connected to the opening tale because it’s also set on safari and includes a man, woman, death and the concepts of courage and dignity. I love the way it’s constructed and how the characters’ actions in a moment of pressure tell you things that will affect their entire lives. Also, it and “Fifty Grand,” the story that precedes it, are simply exciting on a narrative level.
I don’t know why I’ve been on a Hemingway kick recently – three of his books in less than a month – but I’m glad I picked this up. These days, the author’s legend seems to overshadow his work; it’s encouraging to know the writing, at least in the author’s prime, was solid.
There’s an impressive range of work here, from the ambitious title story about a man dying of gangrene while on safari and slipping into and out of consciousness, remembering scenes from his (wasted) life – the story has the depth and richness of a novel – to the noir classic “The Killers,” which inspired two famous films and contains some very amusing gangster dialogue.
“Fifty Grand” takes you into the world of boxing (there’s also a boxer in “The Killers”), and has a narrative left hook you might not see coming (I didn’t), while “The Gambler, The Nun, And The Radio” – about a man who’s been shot and his colourful hospital visitors – shows you just how funny Hemingway could be.
Also included is a classic story that I’ve read several times but still seems mysterious to me: “A Clean Well-Lighted Place,” about two waiters discussing the final patron in their bar before it closes for the night. The old, deaf man tried to kill himself the week before, and the contrasting reactions of the waiters is very telling.
Some stories in the book didn’t resonate with me, particularly the Nick Adams war tales. (I recall the Adams stories from In Our Time working much better.) But their themes – grace under pressure, war and death, initiations of various sorts – are in keeping with the rest of the volume.
I think my favourite story is the final one, “The Short And Happy Life Of Francis Macomber,” which feels connected to the opening tale because it’s also set on safari and includes a man, woman, death and the concepts of courage and dignity. I love the way it’s constructed and how the characters’ actions in a moment of pressure tell you things that will affect their entire lives. Also, it and “Fifty Grand,” the story that precedes it, are simply exciting on a narrative level.
I don’t know why I’ve been on a Hemingway kick recently – three of his books in less than a month – but I’m glad I picked this up. These days, the author’s legend seems to overshadow his work; it’s encouraging to know the writing, at least in the author’s prime, was solid.
June 9, 2023
I haven’t read anywhere close to the full set of Hemingway’s short stories - slowly chipping away, so might as well get some on the board. I have done the super classics, and this collection actually contains a couple of them.
A Clean, Well-Lighted Place is quite possibly my favourite Hemingway story of all time. Seriously, I am in awe of how much he does with a few pages. I think I go through a whole range of emotions every time I read it. Why? Well… like I said, admiration for Hemingway’s choice of setting and character. Some random bar, very late night, close to closing time. Old man. Solitude. Regret? Sadness? Empathy? Apathy? Life? Fuck me.
The Snows of Kilimanjaro is beautiful too, as is A Day’s Wait. Come to think of it, there is a theme in the ones that I find most impactful. Hemingway Heads, I was also going to say that I enjoyed Fathers and Sons and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber. Yes. Yes there is definitely a theme. I can’t help it; I’m just fascinated thinking about how death looms over us all, how we deal with it, make sense of it, go out to greet it. In that sense, this is about as good a collection of short stories as you can get. I often find it really difficult to give any collection of stories 5 stars, because that would imply that it was damn near perfect. This isn’t. No nadirs, but a couple of stories that phoned it in for me.
A Clean, Well-Lighted Place is quite possibly my favourite Hemingway story of all time. Seriously, I am in awe of how much he does with a few pages. I think I go through a whole range of emotions every time I read it. Why? Well… like I said, admiration for Hemingway’s choice of setting and character. Some random bar, very late night, close to closing time. Old man. Solitude. Regret? Sadness? Empathy? Apathy? Life? Fuck me.
The Snows of Kilimanjaro is beautiful too, as is A Day’s Wait. Come to think of it, there is a theme in the ones that I find most impactful. Hemingway Heads, I was also going to say that I enjoyed Fathers and Sons and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber. Yes. Yes there is definitely a theme. I can’t help it; I’m just fascinated thinking about how death looms over us all, how we deal with it, make sense of it, go out to greet it. In that sense, this is about as good a collection of short stories as you can get. I often find it really difficult to give any collection of stories 5 stars, because that would imply that it was damn near perfect. This isn’t. No nadirs, but a couple of stories that phoned it in for me.
July 30, 2023
Here is a link to the story: http://www.cardinalhayes.org/ourpages...
This story grabbed me from the start. It did not let me go until its very last line. It is about a man, Harry, dying of gangrene out on the plains of Africa. He is with Helen, a woman he loves. Will he die, or will he be saved?
Harry is quarreling with Helen. Why is it that we are the meanest to those we love most? Read this, found at the beginning of the tale:
"He looked at her and saw her crying.
'Listen,’ he said. ’Do you think that it is fun to do this? I don't know why I'm doing it. It's trying to kill to keep yourself alive, I imagine. I was all right when we started talking. I didn't mean to start this, and now I'm crazy as a coot and being as cruel to you as I can be. Don't pay any attention, darling, to what I say. I love you, really. You know I love you. I've never loved any one else the way I love you.’
He slipped into the familiar lie he made his bread and butter by.
'You're sweet to me.’
'You bitch,’ he said. 'You rich bitch. That's poetry. I'm full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry.’
'Stop it. Harry, why do you have to turn into a devil now?’
'I don't like to leave anything,’ the man said. 'I don’t like to leave things behind.’"
And then later:
"'You're a fine woman,’ he said. 'Don't pay any attention to me. ’"
Who is this book about? For me it is about Hemingway himself and his and other authors’ need to write.
“There was so much to write. He had seen the world change; not just the events; although he had seen many of them and had watched the people, but he had seen the subtler change and he could remember how the people were at different times. He had been in it and he had watched it and it was his duty to write of it; but now he never would."
Hemingway’s ability to write of places, be it Africa, Paris, a ranch, the Black Forest of Germany or anywhere else, is perfected in this story. Harry speaks of the Paris he cared about but had not yet written of:
“There never was another part of Paris that he loved like that, the sprawling trees, the old white plastered houses painted brown below, the long green of the autobus in that round square, the purple flower dye upon the paving, the sudden drop down the hill of the rue Cardinal Lemoine to the River, and the other way the narrow crowded world of the rue Mouffetard. The street that ran up toward the Pantheon and the other that he always took with the bicycle, the only asphalted street in all that quarter, smooth under the tires, with the high narrow houses and the cheap tall hotel where Paul Verlaine had died. There were only two rooms in the apartments where they lived and he had a room on the top floor of that hotel that cost him sixty francs a month where he did his writing, and from it he could see the roofs and chimney pots and all the hills of Paris."
There is something in Hemingway’s prose that feels natural, so clean and simple and so absolutely wonderful to me! Regardless of the plot, there is always the writing to enjoy; this alone satisfies me.
Here, as Harry lies there dying, thinking of all he has not yet written and wants to write tears come to my eyes. I feel as though I am losing someone who must survive because he has such talent for writing. Is it silly that I feel sorrow for the loss of his writing? Is it silly that I feel profound sorrow for the stories and lines that may never come to be?
One more thing--the ending is perfect.
I adore this story. For me, this is perhaps Hemingway’s best.
This story grabbed me from the start. It did not let me go until its very last line. It is about a man, Harry, dying of gangrene out on the plains of Africa. He is with Helen, a woman he loves. Will he die, or will he be saved?
Harry is quarreling with Helen. Why is it that we are the meanest to those we love most? Read this, found at the beginning of the tale:
"He looked at her and saw her crying.
'Listen,’ he said. ’Do you think that it is fun to do this? I don't know why I'm doing it. It's trying to kill to keep yourself alive, I imagine. I was all right when we started talking. I didn't mean to start this, and now I'm crazy as a coot and being as cruel to you as I can be. Don't pay any attention, darling, to what I say. I love you, really. You know I love you. I've never loved any one else the way I love you.’
He slipped into the familiar lie he made his bread and butter by.
'You're sweet to me.’
'You bitch,’ he said. 'You rich bitch. That's poetry. I'm full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry.’
'Stop it. Harry, why do you have to turn into a devil now?’
'I don't like to leave anything,’ the man said. 'I don’t like to leave things behind.’"
And then later:
"'You're a fine woman,’ he said. 'Don't pay any attention to me. ’"
Who is this book about? For me it is about Hemingway himself and his and other authors’ need to write.
“There was so much to write. He had seen the world change; not just the events; although he had seen many of them and had watched the people, but he had seen the subtler change and he could remember how the people were at different times. He had been in it and he had watched it and it was his duty to write of it; but now he never would."
Hemingway’s ability to write of places, be it Africa, Paris, a ranch, the Black Forest of Germany or anywhere else, is perfected in this story. Harry speaks of the Paris he cared about but had not yet written of:
“There never was another part of Paris that he loved like that, the sprawling trees, the old white plastered houses painted brown below, the long green of the autobus in that round square, the purple flower dye upon the paving, the sudden drop down the hill of the rue Cardinal Lemoine to the River, and the other way the narrow crowded world of the rue Mouffetard. The street that ran up toward the Pantheon and the other that he always took with the bicycle, the only asphalted street in all that quarter, smooth under the tires, with the high narrow houses and the cheap tall hotel where Paul Verlaine had died. There were only two rooms in the apartments where they lived and he had a room on the top floor of that hotel that cost him sixty francs a month where he did his writing, and from it he could see the roofs and chimney pots and all the hills of Paris."
There is something in Hemingway’s prose that feels natural, so clean and simple and so absolutely wonderful to me! Regardless of the plot, there is always the writing to enjoy; this alone satisfies me.
Here, as Harry lies there dying, thinking of all he has not yet written and wants to write tears come to my eyes. I feel as though I am losing someone who must survive because he has such talent for writing. Is it silly that I feel sorrow for the loss of his writing? Is it silly that I feel profound sorrow for the stories and lines that may never come to be?
One more thing--the ending is perfect.
I adore this story. For me, this is perhaps Hemingway’s best.
November 12, 2022
4★
“No, he thought, when everything you do, you do too long, and do too late, you can't expect to find the people still there. The people all are gone. The party's over and you are with your hostess now.”
Harry’s dying. Gangrene. He’s not happy about it, but he’s resigned to it and short-tempered with his wife who tries to feed him broth and withhold whiskey, insisting he needs to keep his strength up for when the truck or the plane comes. This is Africa. No casual passersby.
He daydreams and dreams about all the women in his life, each richer than the previous one, and this last wife the richest of all. He remembers what fun Paris was, all the friends he had, but he’s aware that his current wife, through no fault of her own, will be his last companion, the “hostess”.
A lot of people seem to think this is autobiographical, and to a point, it is. Harry and Hemingway are both writers. Harry laments that he wasted his time and didn’t write what he should have. Africa, plane crash, multiple wives – both.
BUT, this was published in Esquire Magazine in 1936, almost 20 years before Hemignway's 1954 plane crashes (and before a couple of wives as well). AND, nobody can accuse Hemingway of not writing productively. Perhaps this was written as a caution to himself?
It is also a platform where he can champion the poor and criticise the rich. Consider the irony of this being first published in a men’s magazine whose target market was most decidedly not the poor!
Harry’s silent reminiscing is no doubt partly Hemingway’s well-known escapades, but a lot is a good writer’s imagination. Cautioning himself or not, Hemingway did acquire more women and maintain a colourful lifestyle.
The fact that Harry’s stranded in remote Africa with his wife means he knows he hasn’t got long to live. Hemingway isn’t maudlin, or tugging at heartstrings. Harry is matter-of-fact and cranky. He is sorry for his perfectly decent wife, stuck in the African bush with a dying man, and he does his best to be pleasant, but it’s hard work.
Some might consider this a
Download the story here:
http://www.cardinalhayes.org/ourpages...
Thanks to Chrissie from the Reading for Pleasure Group who have short story discussions.
“No, he thought, when everything you do, you do too long, and do too late, you can't expect to find the people still there. The people all are gone. The party's over and you are with your hostess now.”
Harry’s dying. Gangrene. He’s not happy about it, but he’s resigned to it and short-tempered with his wife who tries to feed him broth and withhold whiskey, insisting he needs to keep his strength up for when the truck or the plane comes. This is Africa. No casual passersby.
He daydreams and dreams about all the women in his life, each richer than the previous one, and this last wife the richest of all. He remembers what fun Paris was, all the friends he had, but he’s aware that his current wife, through no fault of her own, will be his last companion, the “hostess”.
A lot of people seem to think this is autobiographical, and to a point, it is. Harry and Hemingway are both writers. Harry laments that he wasted his time and didn’t write what he should have. Africa, plane crash, multiple wives – both.
BUT, this was published in Esquire Magazine in 1936, almost 20 years before Hemignway's 1954 plane crashes (and before a couple of wives as well). AND, nobody can accuse Hemingway of not writing productively. Perhaps this was written as a caution to himself?
It is also a platform where he can champion the poor and criticise the rich. Consider the irony of this being first published in a men’s magazine whose target market was most decidedly not the poor!
Harry’s silent reminiscing is no doubt partly Hemingway’s well-known escapades, but a lot is a good writer’s imagination. Cautioning himself or not, Hemingway did acquire more women and maintain a colourful lifestyle.
The fact that Harry’s stranded in remote Africa with his wife means he knows he hasn’t got long to live. Hemingway isn’t maudlin, or tugging at heartstrings. Harry is matter-of-fact and cranky. He is sorry for his perfectly decent wife, stuck in the African bush with a dying man, and he does his best to be pleasant, but it’s hard work.
Some might consider this a
Download the story here:
http://www.cardinalhayes.org/ourpages...
Thanks to Chrissie from the Reading for Pleasure Group who have short story discussions.
December 8, 2016
Yes, I think that this story serves as a moving account of a man who comes to terms with his life as he prepares to die. However, while I hate to sound as repetitive in my reviews of Hemingway as Hemingway sounds in his actual writing, I cannot stand how his protagonists always take out their frustrations on women. As the main character suffers, he calls his partner a "rich bitch" and a "caretaker and destroyer of his talent." I rate Hemingway's work so low because from my perspective, I must point out how he lets his characters get away with sexism and misogyny, even if they do indeed face painful circumstances. I will say it now and I will say it again: an individual's anger does not justify their mistreatment of another person. I wish Hemingway had understood that in his life and in his writing.
March 30, 2017
'Why, I loved you. That's not fair. I love you now. I'll always love you Don't you love me?"
"No," said the man. "I don't think so. I never have."
"Harry, what are you saying? You're out of your head."
"No. I haven't any head to go out of."
"Don't drink that," she said. "Darling, please don't drink that. We have to do
everything we can."
"You do it," he said. "I'm tired."
WHAT A FUCKING ASSHOLE! This is one of those *i'm dying so i can be an ass, and people would just let me be, So i'm gonna shit on everything and everyone* kind of books. the writing was fine (to me at least) smooth really. But Goddamn. Harry's personality made me want to reach out, and strangle him to death. He was an arrogant, rude, obnoxious, prick. he did shut his wife down, When all she ever wanted to do is to help him and fix him. i hate when women gets mistreated, but she still is nice and warm and loving toward the person whom she should hate. *SIGH*
a sentence summary of this book: how an asshole behaves in the face of death.
"No," said the man. "I don't think so. I never have."
"Harry, what are you saying? You're out of your head."
"No. I haven't any head to go out of."
"Don't drink that," she said. "Darling, please don't drink that. We have to do
everything we can."
"You do it," he said. "I'm tired."
WHAT A FUCKING ASSHOLE! This is one of those *i'm dying so i can be an ass, and people would just let me be, So i'm gonna shit on everything and everyone* kind of books. the writing was fine (to me at least) smooth really. But Goddamn. Harry's personality made me want to reach out, and strangle him to death. He was an arrogant, rude, obnoxious, prick. he did shut his wife down, When all she ever wanted to do is to help him and fix him. i hate when women gets mistreated, but she still is nice and warm and loving toward the person whom she should hate. *SIGH*
a sentence summary of this book: how an asshole behaves in the face of death.
February 25, 2023
The Snows of Kilimanjaro, is one of Hemingway’s most famous and no doubt garners such appeal because it deals with the essence of every man’s life...what he has accomplished before he dies. Some see it as a treatise on procrastination, but I do not. I believe it is every man’s lot to die with things undone, hopes unrealized, opportunities missed, and I think Hemingway is making that point as well. We are busy living our lives and these things slip by us, sometimes without a thought, but often with the idea that we will come back to them, do them later, and then life runs out, as life always does. We all die in the midst of living. A secondary, but important theme, would seem to me to be that of isolation. No matter who is there holding our hands, soothing our brows, we die alone. No one can take that journey with us, and those who will continue to live after we are gone do not truly understand our going as we understand it, as an end of second chances, a startling realization that whatever we might have done is lost to us now, forever.
February 26, 2023
Ernest Hemingway writes. Beautifully. But it seems his writings are always autobiographical. They are always about death, and It seems like he or someone else is always killing something or destroying relationships. In the end he even destroyed himself. It's the bullfights and the safaris. It's always the same.
This story is about a man and his woman who are waiting at the airport for a plane to come and take him to the hospital. His knee is wounded and he believes that he is dying. As they sit there talking with each other, He begins to verbally abuses wife or girlfriend, Telling her that he does not love her, that she is a rich bitch,... He even tells her that he is with her only because of her money.
I read some books by Ernest Hemingway in my youth, But now it is too difficult to read him. It just isn't worth it to me.
This story is about a man and his woman who are waiting at the airport for a plane to come and take him to the hospital. His knee is wounded and he believes that he is dying. As they sit there talking with each other, He begins to verbally abuses wife or girlfriend, Telling her that he does not love her, that she is a rich bitch,... He even tells her that he is with her only because of her money.
I read some books by Ernest Hemingway in my youth, But now it is too difficult to read him. It just isn't worth it to me.
September 13, 2020
Published in the same year as Hemingway’s death, this collection of ten previously released short stories comprises some of his very best short work.
"The Snows of Kilimanjaro" first published in 1936 is a strange and thoughtful account at the end of a life with many regrets.
"A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" first published in 1933, this is one of my favorite of his short stories. Describing a time and place and mood of introspection, isolation and solitude.
"A Day's Wait" first published in 1933, this is a touching scene of interactions between a father and son, revealing a very human side to Hemingway’s writing.
"The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio" earlier published in 1933, this is a tragi-comic story reminiscent in the setting and style to something John Steinbeck may have written.
"Fathers and Sons" was first published in 1933 and features Hemingway’s recurring protagonist Nick Adams. Telling of three generations of men, this explores themes of relationships, race and sex, leadership and influence. Like many of Hemingway’s most illuminating work, this centers around outdoor activities like hunting and fishing.
"In Another Country" first published in 1927 and the unnamed protagonist is likely Nick Adams, who is an injured American officer serving with the Italians during WWI. This is an exploration of courage, fear and loss.
"The Killers" first published in 1927, this is another Nick Adams story but one set in Illinois and describes a tense scene where two assassins seek to kill a local prize fighter and Adams’ talk with the target, Ole Anderson. This scene, where Adams seeks to warn Anderson of the plot against him, is one of existential ennui and hopelessness.
"A Way You'll Never Be" was earlier published in 1933 and describes Nick Adams recovering from a head wound in Italy during the first world war. Interestingly, this describes an illuminating scene of post-traumatic stress disorder decades before that condition was explained in medical science.
"Fifty Grand" first published in 1927 and centers around an aging boxer training for his final fight. Like hunting and fishing, boxing was a theme for which Hemingway revealed not just an affinity but also a sophisticated depth of understanding. A good sports story, this also expounds and illustrates Hemingway’s moral code.
"The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber" was first published in 1936 and is perhaps my favorite Hemingway story. In his economical style, Hemingway packs a novel amount of content into a short story length. The reader is guided through explorations of wealth, value, relationships, fear, courage, betrayal and redemption. Margot, like Lady Britt from The Sun Also Rises, is one of Hemingway’s most villainous women. The hunter Robert Wilson, in his narrative asides, reveals Hemingway’s moral code and an eagerness to live a principled, heroic life.
This would be an excellent introduction to Hemingway’s great work for a new reader.
"The Snows of Kilimanjaro" first published in 1936 is a strange and thoughtful account at the end of a life with many regrets.
"A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" first published in 1933, this is one of my favorite of his short stories. Describing a time and place and mood of introspection, isolation and solitude.
"A Day's Wait" first published in 1933, this is a touching scene of interactions between a father and son, revealing a very human side to Hemingway’s writing.
"The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio" earlier published in 1933, this is a tragi-comic story reminiscent in the setting and style to something John Steinbeck may have written.
"Fathers and Sons" was first published in 1933 and features Hemingway’s recurring protagonist Nick Adams. Telling of three generations of men, this explores themes of relationships, race and sex, leadership and influence. Like many of Hemingway’s most illuminating work, this centers around outdoor activities like hunting and fishing.
"In Another Country" first published in 1927 and the unnamed protagonist is likely Nick Adams, who is an injured American officer serving with the Italians during WWI. This is an exploration of courage, fear and loss.
"The Killers" first published in 1927, this is another Nick Adams story but one set in Illinois and describes a tense scene where two assassins seek to kill a local prize fighter and Adams’ talk with the target, Ole Anderson. This scene, where Adams seeks to warn Anderson of the plot against him, is one of existential ennui and hopelessness.
"A Way You'll Never Be" was earlier published in 1933 and describes Nick Adams recovering from a head wound in Italy during the first world war. Interestingly, this describes an illuminating scene of post-traumatic stress disorder decades before that condition was explained in medical science.
"Fifty Grand" first published in 1927 and centers around an aging boxer training for his final fight. Like hunting and fishing, boxing was a theme for which Hemingway revealed not just an affinity but also a sophisticated depth of understanding. A good sports story, this also expounds and illustrates Hemingway’s moral code.
"The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber" was first published in 1936 and is perhaps my favorite Hemingway story. In his economical style, Hemingway packs a novel amount of content into a short story length. The reader is guided through explorations of wealth, value, relationships, fear, courage, betrayal and redemption. Margot, like Lady Britt from The Sun Also Rises, is one of Hemingway’s most villainous women. The hunter Robert Wilson, in his narrative asides, reveals Hemingway’s moral code and an eagerness to live a principled, heroic life.
This would be an excellent introduction to Hemingway’s great work for a new reader.
December 9, 2021
İçindeki birkaç öyküyü dönüp dönüp tekrar okuyacağımdan eminim. Özellikle öykü severlerin ıskalamaması gereken bir kitap Kilimanjaro'nun Karları.
"Tanrı hiçliği yarattı ve hiçlik bize daha fazla hiçliği sağladı. Bizi hiçlikten alıp hiçliğe soktu."
"Artık, iyi yazabilmek için yeterli donanıma sahip oluncaya kadar beklettiği hiçbir şeyi yazamayacaktı. En azından, yazmaya çalışırken başarısızlığa düşmek zorunda değildi. Belki de asla yazmayı beceremeyeceği için vazgeçmiş, bir türlü başlayamamıştı. Yazsa nasıl olacağını hiçbir zaman bilemeyecekti artık."
"Eğer her şeyi gereğinden daha uzun süre yaparsan ve artık çok geçse, insanları bıraktığın yerde bulamazsın. Tüm insanlar gitmiş, parti bitmiştir ve sen ev sahibiyle tek başına kalmışsındır."
Tavsiye ederim.
"Tanrı hiçliği yarattı ve hiçlik bize daha fazla hiçliği sağladı. Bizi hiçlikten alıp hiçliğe soktu."
"Artık, iyi yazabilmek için yeterli donanıma sahip oluncaya kadar beklettiği hiçbir şeyi yazamayacaktı. En azından, yazmaya çalışırken başarısızlığa düşmek zorunda değildi. Belki de asla yazmayı beceremeyeceği için vazgeçmiş, bir türlü başlayamamıştı. Yazsa nasıl olacağını hiçbir zaman bilemeyecekti artık."
"Eğer her şeyi gereğinden daha uzun süre yaparsan ve artık çok geçse, insanları bıraktığın yerde bulamazsın. Tüm insanlar gitmiş, parti bitmiştir ve sen ev sahibiyle tek başına kalmışsındır."
Tavsiye ederim.
June 22, 2023
4.5
...just then, death had come and rested its head on the foot of the cot and he could smell its breath.
The Snows of Kilimanjaro is a semi-autobiographical story about a dying man, his reminiscences, his thoughts about life and death and his dreams and regrets.
...just then, death had come and rested its head on the foot of the cot and he could smell its breath.
The Snows of Kilimanjaro is a semi-autobiographical story about a dying man, his reminiscences, his thoughts about life and death and his dreams and regrets.
March 12, 2022
I first read this when I was 16, and, of course, I was far too young to be able to properly appreciate this book; I loved it only moderately. Reread it when I was almost 50: clearly this is top class, especially by the very precise way of writing things down, more introspective and honest towards himself. Hemingway here clearly de-bunks the machismo for which he always is both praised ànd loathed. Apparantly, he managed to strike a more balanced tone in later life. Or is this just an illusion of mine?
April 29, 2018
I had already heard about The Snow…, but as surprising as it may seem, I had no idea of the content of this short story; which is very annoying, because as the story, the time, the characters and the subject of this story are revealed few pages after the beginning, we don’t know who the characters are, or when the story happens. In my humble opinion, before reading a book, you don’t have to know the author, the story he tells, the dates, places, why and how. And in this short story, if we do not know anything about all this before opening the book, we are very annoyed! And personally, I do not like that.
In short, before I understood the problem of the main character, Harry, I hated him. He suffers, alright. He has little hope of recovery, alright. That makes him irritable, I can understand, because I have physical and permanent pains that will never pass and I know that it can make irritable ... if we don’t control ourselves! Harry’s not a child anymore, is he! Biting people who love you and would do everything they could to help you is not excusable.
This being said, I kept on reading, after all, an unsympathetic main character, this can be interesting or entertaining or whatever. While waiting for help to arrive, Harry remembers some parts of his life.
The first memory sets in Karagatch. Do you know where Karagatch is? Well, I'll tell you, it's a village in the North Caucasus, in Russia. I didn’t know where it was, I looked for, so you won’t have to do it, if you have not read The Snows of Kilimanjaro yet.
Oh! And I’m going to tell you where is Schrunz or Schruns: it’s in Austria. But as I don’t ski in Austria or elsewhere, I didn’t know it either!
Oh, and a weinstube is a restaurant-wine bar… if you don’t speak German!
Anyway, next! We’re told about a group of young secretaries who are going to die in the snow; obviously, an old man has knowingly sent them. Obviously, this is happening in Bulgaria, but I had neither the courage nor the desire to search for the historical truth of this fact to know what it was about.
A certain Herr Lent, who owns a mountain, a ski resort, a capital, loses all while playing cards with Harry our "hero". Why? What is the interest of this anecdote?
And Hemingway writes that Harry had never written a line on it and it was too late. Dare I say that perhaps Hemingway should not have written these memories either? These memories that his alcoholic, brawler, quarrelsome, unfair hero, who’s envious of the rich people but who marries only rich women and despises them, a hero too lazy to write all this when he could have done it, did not write either?
And Harry continues to be unpleasant towards his wife, and his memories continue to wander, confused. Maybe they are confused to show us that Harry is delirious? But I didn’t understand the interest of his memories.
Then it would seem that Hemingway practices the litotes: a figure of rhetoric and attenuation, which is to say less, to make one hear more. In The Snows of Kilimanjaro, the author says less, for sure. But I should have had to open my ears to hear more, maybe?
In addition, there are sometimes weird phrases like: "He knew his neighbors in this neighborhood, because they were poor." ? Does this mean that when you’re rich you can’t know your neighbors? And when you are from the middle class? Do you know only some of your neighbors?
The only thing that pleased me in this short story is what Marie says. She’s a a housekeeper, and full of common sense: "When you have a husband who works until six o'clock, he gets drunk only a little while coming home, and he doesn’t waste too much. When he works till five o’clock, he's drunk every night and leaves you without money. It’s the wife of the worker who suffers from this reduction of working time. "
I will have to read other Hemingway books to reconcile myself with his writings.
In short, before I understood the problem of the main character, Harry, I hated him. He suffers, alright. He has little hope of recovery, alright. That makes him irritable, I can understand, because I have physical and permanent pains that will never pass and I know that it can make irritable ... if we don’t control ourselves! Harry’s not a child anymore, is he! Biting people who love you and would do everything they could to help you is not excusable.
This being said, I kept on reading, after all, an unsympathetic main character, this can be interesting or entertaining or whatever. While waiting for help to arrive, Harry remembers some parts of his life.
The first memory sets in Karagatch. Do you know where Karagatch is? Well, I'll tell you, it's a village in the North Caucasus, in Russia. I didn’t know where it was, I looked for, so you won’t have to do it, if you have not read The Snows of Kilimanjaro yet.
Oh! And I’m going to tell you where is Schrunz or Schruns: it’s in Austria. But as I don’t ski in Austria or elsewhere, I didn’t know it either!
Oh, and a weinstube is a restaurant-wine bar… if you don’t speak German!
Anyway, next! We’re told about a group of young secretaries who are going to die in the snow; obviously, an old man has knowingly sent them. Obviously, this is happening in Bulgaria, but I had neither the courage nor the desire to search for the historical truth of this fact to know what it was about.
A certain Herr Lent, who owns a mountain, a ski resort, a capital, loses all while playing cards with Harry our "hero". Why? What is the interest of this anecdote?
And Hemingway writes that Harry had never written a line on it and it was too late. Dare I say that perhaps Hemingway should not have written these memories either? These memories that his alcoholic, brawler, quarrelsome, unfair hero, who’s envious of the rich people but who marries only rich women and despises them, a hero too lazy to write all this when he could have done it, did not write either?
And Harry continues to be unpleasant towards his wife, and his memories continue to wander, confused. Maybe they are confused to show us that Harry is delirious? But I didn’t understand the interest of his memories.
Then it would seem that Hemingway practices the litotes: a figure of rhetoric and attenuation, which is to say less, to make one hear more. In The Snows of Kilimanjaro, the author says less, for sure. But I should have had to open my ears to hear more, maybe?
In addition, there are sometimes weird phrases like: "He knew his neighbors in this neighborhood, because they were poor." ? Does this mean that when you’re rich you can’t know your neighbors? And when you are from the middle class? Do you know only some of your neighbors?
The only thing that pleased me in this short story is what Marie says. She’s a a housekeeper, and full of common sense: "When you have a husband who works until six o'clock, he gets drunk only a little while coming home, and he doesn’t waste too much. When he works till five o’clock, he's drunk every night and leaves you without money. It’s the wife of the worker who suffers from this reduction of working time. "
I will have to read other Hemingway books to reconcile myself with his writings.
April 17, 2023
I picked this up purely on instinct from the newly refurbished 'Classics' section of my local library. I have only dabbled lightly in Hemingway's work, and I thought this collection of short stories was an ideal place to start.
This collection revolves around men, the atrocities of war, being a Father and the wounded, and for the most part, I found these stories to be complex, but interesting, and I can see why he is such a popular writer. However, I cannot say I loved his characters, but maybe that was the point.
'The Snows of Kilimanjaro' was the only story I had heard of, and I also just discovered that this was made into a film adaptation. This was my favourite of the collection, being about a man dying of gangrene of the leg, musing to himself about his life, his accomplishments and his failings. Did he do enough? Were there various missed opportunities? I suppose this enters all of our minds at some point or another. The dying man treats his wife fairly inhumanely towards the end, speaking to her badly, but all the while knowing he was set to pass from this world alone. I thought the themes here were important, and definitely thought-provoking.
The rest of the stories were compelling, and admittedly, a couple went completely over my head, but what stood out the most is how deep and complex his stories travel. On the surface they feel rather thin and watery, but actually, the subject matter here is gritty, uncomfortable and truthful, and Hemingway tackled it head-on.
This collection revolves around men, the atrocities of war, being a Father and the wounded, and for the most part, I found these stories to be complex, but interesting, and I can see why he is such a popular writer. However, I cannot say I loved his characters, but maybe that was the point.
'The Snows of Kilimanjaro' was the only story I had heard of, and I also just discovered that this was made into a film adaptation. This was my favourite of the collection, being about a man dying of gangrene of the leg, musing to himself about his life, his accomplishments and his failings. Did he do enough? Were there various missed opportunities? I suppose this enters all of our minds at some point or another. The dying man treats his wife fairly inhumanely towards the end, speaking to her badly, but all the while knowing he was set to pass from this world alone. I thought the themes here were important, and definitely thought-provoking.
The rest of the stories were compelling, and admittedly, a couple went completely over my head, but what stood out the most is how deep and complex his stories travel. On the surface they feel rather thin and watery, but actually, the subject matter here is gritty, uncomfortable and truthful, and Hemingway tackled it head-on.
November 23, 2022
گرچه شخصیت های اصلی داستان برفهای کلیمانجارو زوج هری و هلن هستند اما مرگ را باید نقش اصلی داستان همینگوی دانست . مرگ را می توان همه جا ، در لاشه پلنگ در ابتدای داستان ، آواز شوم کرکس ، ناله نحس کفتار و بوی عفونت بدن هری پیدا کرد.
احتمالا کمتر کسی مانند هری را می توان منتظر و مشتاق مرگ یافت ، اشتیاقی که شاید از شکست در نویسندگی و میل و علاقه مفرط به نوشیدن حاصل شده باشد .
داستان همینگوی در حالی با مرگ به پایان می رسد که او از همان ابتدا عفریت مرگ را در نزدیکی خود دیده و بی میل به زیستن ، هیچ گونه تلاشی هم برای نجات خود نکرده است .
به زحمت می توان معنای چندانی برای کتاب بسیار معروف همینگوی که برخی آنرا شاهکار هم دانسته اند یافت ، همچنین ترجمه ضعیف اسدالله امرایی هم آشکار به کیفیت کتاب لطمه زده است .
احتمالا کمتر کسی مانند هری را می توان منتظر و مشتاق مرگ یافت ، اشتیاقی که شاید از شکست در نویسندگی و میل و علاقه مفرط به نوشیدن حاصل شده باشد .
داستان همینگوی در حالی با مرگ به پایان می رسد که او از همان ابتدا عفریت مرگ را در نزدیکی خود دیده و بی میل به زیستن ، هیچ گونه تلاشی هم برای نجات خود نکرده است .
به زحمت می توان معنای چندانی برای کتاب بسیار معروف همینگوی که برخی آنرا شاهکار هم دانسته اند یافت ، همچنین ترجمه ضعیف اسدالله امرایی هم آشکار به کیفیت کتاب لطمه زده است .
January 19, 2016
حیف از این داستانِ زیبا... ترجمه بد، سراسر اشتباه در نوشتار... واقعاً اعصاب رو خورد میکنه... بعضی از صفحات با خودم کلنجار میرفتم که سریع چند خط در میان بخونم تا زودتر به انتهایِ داستان برسم
این داستان نکتۀ خواستی برایِ گفتن نداشت، ولی به نظرِ من مهمترین پیامِ همینگوی این بود که خیلی وقت ها انسان ها کلی حرف تو دل دارن واسه گفتن، ولی یا نمیشه گفت و یا فرصت واسه گفتن نیست
داستانِ خوبی بود
پیروز باشید و ایرانی
این داستان نکتۀ خواستی برایِ گفتن نداشت، ولی به نظرِ من مهمترین پیامِ همینگوی این بود که خیلی وقت ها انسان ها کلی حرف تو دل دارن واسه گفتن، ولی یا نمیشه گفت و یا فرصت واسه گفتن نیست
داستانِ خوبی بود
پیروز باشید و ایرانی
August 9, 2021
تلاطم های روحی و ذهنی در زندگی برای یک‌نویسنده همچو بادی است که در یک دریاچه ارام قایق خلق اثرشان را به پیش می برد..همینگوی شاید سر راست ترین مصداق ان باشد..نویسنده ای که هر چه‌نوشته از زندگی خود و هر محیطی را که خلق کرده از مشاهدات خود گرفته..فضای جنگ زده و‌پرتلاطم و‌کشمکش اثارهمینگوی همه آینه ذهن او هستند..دریاچه ای ساده و ناارام که البته اصلا مورد علاقه من نیست.
برف های کلیمانجارو شامل داستان هایی ضعیف و سطحی ست اغلب در حد فیلم های هالیوودی..(سطح پایین ترینشان قطعا)
استفاده مکرر همینگوی از یک دختر زیبای عرب یا اسپانیایی..که ناگزیر به عشق یا سکس با کاراکتر اول داستان(تمثال خود همینگوی) است و بعد هم پایان هولناک (چراکه خواننده هایش خشونت و سکس می خواهند،نه پایان شاد)برای یکی از طرفین(غالبا همان دختر،تا که هم احساسات سرکوب شده خواننده برانگیخته شود هم به هر حال اسیب چندانی به خود همینگوی در جایگاه رفیع و پیروز نقش اول مرد داستان هایش نرسد) این طرح تقریبا تمام این داستان هاست..افتضاح...
۸ داستان که کاملا کپی یکدیگر بر طبق این الگو نوشته شده اند..خواندنش تجربه ای تاسف بار بود
برف های کلیمانجارو شامل داستان هایی ضعیف و سطحی ست اغلب در حد فیلم های هالیوودی..(سطح پایین ترینشان قطعا)
استفاده مکرر همینگوی از یک دختر زیبای عرب یا اسپانیایی..که ناگزیر به عشق یا سکس با کاراکتر اول داستان(تمثال خود همینگوی) است و بعد هم پایان هولناک (چراکه خواننده هایش خشونت و سکس می خواهند،نه پایان شاد)برای یکی از طرفین(غالبا همان دختر،تا که هم احساسات سرکوب شده خواننده برانگیخته شود هم به هر حال اسیب چندانی به خود همینگوی در جایگاه رفیع و پیروز نقش اول مرد داستان هایش نرسد) این طرح تقریبا تمام این داستان هاست..افتضاح...
۸ داستان که کاملا کپی یکدیگر بر طبق این الگو نوشته شده اند..خواندنش تجربه ای تاسف بار بود
August 14, 2020
همینگوی خیلی خوب نوشته این داستان رو. از اینکه حاشیه نمیره و به کوتاهی حرفشو میزنه خوشم میاد.
مردی در آستانه مرگ در آفریقا، گذشته زندگیش رو مرور میکنه. روایت زمان حال هم مکالماتش با همسرش هست که گاهی چنان تلخ حقایق رو به زبون میاورد که دلم برای زن میسو��ت.
مردی در آستانه مرگ در آفریقا، گذشته زندگیش رو مرور میکنه. روایت زمان حال هم مکالماتش با همسرش هست که گاهی چنان تلخ حقایق رو به زبون میاورد که دلم برای زن میسو��ت.
October 10, 2020
Judging a composite work, a short fiction anthology as an example, is a bit like isolating individual letters in an alphabet soup, a thankless task. I would assign Hemingway's The Snows of Kilimanjaro & Other Stories a score of 3.5 if it were possible but 2 (perhaps 3) of the stories are excellent, worthy of a 4+ rating! The collection covers a long period of time & some of the tales seem experimental, unfinished, considerably less than robust.
It has been said that with Hemingway, one often gets more than is apparent at first glance, in part because his prose seems so simple, even formulaic at times & thus often parodied but upon rereading the short story or novel, it appears much-enhanced. Hemingway has a way of conveying inner fears & contrasting emotions within the human condition that can on some occasions seem almost banal but at other times seem quite riveting.
Beyond that, these stories--at least in my Hudson River Edition for Scribners--portray a period when frequent use of the N-word for black people & a pejorative epithet for Jews was probably commonplace but which now seem quite out-of-place & even distinctly offensive. One story also describes a bloody, gruesome slaughter of African animals, much at odds with the views of many preservation-minded readers today.
The title story, "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" represents the tale of a dying man named Harry, suffering from gangrene while in the midst of a big game hunt in East Africa, haunted by the sight of vultures as well as the sounds of hyenas & malignant odors that accentuate the feeling of decay. But beyond that, it is the lament of a man who senses not just time dwindling away but time wasted, a 2nd form of decay because..."now he'd never write the things he'd saved to write until he knew enough to write them well."
Yes, a rather common theme for E.H., particularly in a book like A Moveable Feast, a book not just about times past but time lost. The story set near Kilimanjaro details memories of Paris, Switzerland & Turkey, a wife who Harry apparently married for her money & who seems to love the man but who is accused of having destroyed his talent.
Often Hemingway preferred both the money that came from his first wife Hadley's trust fund thus magnifying his lifestyle, while also desiring to maintain the image of a starving artist. He admired money but not so much those who had it. In this story the main character has flashbacks while being stalked by death, even as his wife attempts to console & encourage him. Harry intones..."so this was how you died, with whispers that you do not quite hear." The story is quite poignant, detailing the manner in which an artist's talent can atrophy due to booze, lack of dedication & various distractions while using a man perishing of gangrene in sight of the snow-covered peak of Africa's largest mountain as a metaphor.
"The Short Happy Life of Francis McComber" is a 2nd excellent story within the collection. It again takes place on safari in Africa & portrays a very wealthy man who in this case married a beautiful woman, Margot, a "trophy wife". At the point of the tale, McComber is in search of big game, or trophies of a different sort. Francis experiences fright not once but twice, as many might in sight of an aggressive lion or a wounded cape buffalo, with the prey being stalked now very much on the attack.
McComber's wife finds her husband's lack of courage while on the hunt for big game trophies a defining moment in their marriage, taunts him & even shares intimacy late at night with the "white hunter" they have enlisted, Robert Wilson, who had to bail out Francis on 2 occasions. After the 1st unsuccessful bout, failing to stand fast in the face of danger, McComber reflects:
The ending of the story of Francis McComber's African safari is quite ambiguous & the lack of clarity about his demise adds to the appeal of this particular tale, with his wife as a potential culprit. Or was she merely intending to come to McComber's rescue? Or, perhaps did she see herself in competition with her husband in quest of her own misguided trophy? Come what may, this is one of Ernest Hemingway's profiles of "grace under pressure", or in this case, its absence.
"The Killers", written in 1927, portrays 2 would-be assassins of a man called Ole Andreson, hired guns named Max & Al, with Nick Adams as the overseer of the narrative that ultimately seems more of an outline than a meaningful story. In 1946, the story was greatly expanded to fill in gaps about why the killers had taken aim at Andreson. "It's a hell of a thing; it's an awful thing" says Nick Adams commenting at the diner where the assassins briefly converge. "Well, you'd better not think about it", says George, as he wipes down a counter at the diner after Max & Al have moved on when Ole Andreson fails to appear at his usual time. Perhaps, the lack of resolution adds something to the story but I found it lackluster.
Likewise, "Fifty Grand" the story of a prizefighter who is literally at the end of his ropes, an Irishman named Jack Brennan who has bet on his opponent, a well-regarded opponent named Walcott, in a boxing match while attempting to make a good show of the contest, seemed lacking in dramatic edge & not very compelling. "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" presents the image of a lonely, old man who comes nightly to a cafe, drinking to the point of insobriety, observed by 2 waiters who are forced to keep the cafe open until the man finally departs, while sharing in his ennui.
"Fathers & Sons" seems a story of alienation between a boy & his father, also involving the boy's sexual encounter with his Native-American friend's sister. "The Gamble, the Nun & the Radio" is a longer tableau with some interesting details but still seems incomplete. And, "A Way You'll Never Be" builds an image in the aftermath of WWI, with two soldiers reunited by chance and a considerable uncertainty about the background of one of them.
What the reader finds with many of the short tales in The Snows of Kilimanjaro & Other Stories is a young Hemingway exploring the framework for just how to structure a short work of fiction & eventually a novel, often building the skeletal background or literary scaffolding without always making the story concrete. Still, it was not unpleasant to reread some of the more familiar stories, most of which are also within the author's more comprehensive short story anthology, The Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway.
*My version of the anthology including "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" did not seem to be listed at Goodreads but is the Hudson River hardcover edition, published by Charles Scribners & Sons.
It has been said that with Hemingway, one often gets more than is apparent at first glance, in part because his prose seems so simple, even formulaic at times & thus often parodied but upon rereading the short story or novel, it appears much-enhanced. Hemingway has a way of conveying inner fears & contrasting emotions within the human condition that can on some occasions seem almost banal but at other times seem quite riveting.
Beyond that, these stories--at least in my Hudson River Edition for Scribners--portray a period when frequent use of the N-word for black people & a pejorative epithet for Jews was probably commonplace but which now seem quite out-of-place & even distinctly offensive. One story also describes a bloody, gruesome slaughter of African animals, much at odds with the views of many preservation-minded readers today.
The title story, "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" represents the tale of a dying man named Harry, suffering from gangrene while in the midst of a big game hunt in East Africa, haunted by the sight of vultures as well as the sounds of hyenas & malignant odors that accentuate the feeling of decay. But beyond that, it is the lament of a man who senses not just time dwindling away but time wasted, a 2nd form of decay because..."now he'd never write the things he'd saved to write until he knew enough to write them well."
Yes, a rather common theme for E.H., particularly in a book like A Moveable Feast, a book not just about times past but time lost. The story set near Kilimanjaro details memories of Paris, Switzerland & Turkey, a wife who Harry apparently married for her money & who seems to love the man but who is accused of having destroyed his talent.
Often Hemingway preferred both the money that came from his first wife Hadley's trust fund thus magnifying his lifestyle, while also desiring to maintain the image of a starving artist. He admired money but not so much those who had it. In this story the main character has flashbacks while being stalked by death, even as his wife attempts to console & encourage him. Harry intones..."so this was how you died, with whispers that you do not quite hear." The story is quite poignant, detailing the manner in which an artist's talent can atrophy due to booze, lack of dedication & various distractions while using a man perishing of gangrene in sight of the snow-covered peak of Africa's largest mountain as a metaphor.
"The Short Happy Life of Francis McComber" is a 2nd excellent story within the collection. It again takes place on safari in Africa & portrays a very wealthy man who in this case married a beautiful woman, Margot, a "trophy wife". At the point of the tale, McComber is in search of big game, or trophies of a different sort. Francis experiences fright not once but twice, as many might in sight of an aggressive lion or a wounded cape buffalo, with the prey being stalked now very much on the attack.
McComber's wife finds her husband's lack of courage while on the hunt for big game trophies a defining moment in their marriage, taunts him & even shares intimacy late at night with the "white hunter" they have enlisted, Robert Wilson, who had to bail out Francis on 2 occasions. After the 1st unsuccessful bout, failing to stand fast in the face of danger, McComber reflects:
I'd like to clear away that lion business. It's not very pleasant to have your wife see you do something like that. That night, after a dinner and a whisky & soda by the fire, Francis McComber lay on his cot with the mosquito net over him & listened to the night noises.And yet, partly in search of a way to redeem himself & his marriage, McComber endeavors to try again on the next day's hunt. It was said by some that their marriage, when viewed at a distance was "comparatively happy" but in reality was one "where divorce is often rumored but never occurs".
He felt that it was neither all over nor was it beginning. It was exactly as it happened with some parts of it indelibly emphasized and he was miserably ashamed. But more than shame, he felt cold, hollow fear in him. The fear was still there like a cold, slimy emptiness where once his confidence had been & it made him feel sick.
The ending of the story of Francis McComber's African safari is quite ambiguous & the lack of clarity about his demise adds to the appeal of this particular tale, with his wife as a potential culprit. Or was she merely intending to come to McComber's rescue? Or, perhaps did she see herself in competition with her husband in quest of her own misguided trophy? Come what may, this is one of Ernest Hemingway's profiles of "grace under pressure", or in this case, its absence.
"The Killers", written in 1927, portrays 2 would-be assassins of a man called Ole Andreson, hired guns named Max & Al, with Nick Adams as the overseer of the narrative that ultimately seems more of an outline than a meaningful story. In 1946, the story was greatly expanded to fill in gaps about why the killers had taken aim at Andreson. "It's a hell of a thing; it's an awful thing" says Nick Adams commenting at the diner where the assassins briefly converge. "Well, you'd better not think about it", says George, as he wipes down a counter at the diner after Max & Al have moved on when Ole Andreson fails to appear at his usual time. Perhaps, the lack of resolution adds something to the story but I found it lackluster.
Likewise, "Fifty Grand" the story of a prizefighter who is literally at the end of his ropes, an Irishman named Jack Brennan who has bet on his opponent, a well-regarded opponent named Walcott, in a boxing match while attempting to make a good show of the contest, seemed lacking in dramatic edge & not very compelling. "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" presents the image of a lonely, old man who comes nightly to a cafe, drinking to the point of insobriety, observed by 2 waiters who are forced to keep the cafe open until the man finally departs, while sharing in his ennui.
"Fathers & Sons" seems a story of alienation between a boy & his father, also involving the boy's sexual encounter with his Native-American friend's sister. "The Gamble, the Nun & the Radio" is a longer tableau with some interesting details but still seems incomplete. And, "A Way You'll Never Be" builds an image in the aftermath of WWI, with two soldiers reunited by chance and a considerable uncertainty about the background of one of them.
What the reader finds with many of the short tales in The Snows of Kilimanjaro & Other Stories is a young Hemingway exploring the framework for just how to structure a short work of fiction & eventually a novel, often building the skeletal background or literary scaffolding without always making the story concrete. Still, it was not unpleasant to reread some of the more familiar stories, most of which are also within the author's more comprehensive short story anthology, The Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway.
*My version of the anthology including "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" did not seem to be listed at Goodreads but is the Hudson River hardcover edition, published by Charles Scribners & Sons.
June 12, 2018
When I was young, I wanted to put my experiences and accomplishments against those of the greats. Hemingway was among those who biography I read, hoping to get a glimpse of "what it took" to become a writer. Hemingway is one of the reasons I considered journalism as a career...later, I would decide not to do journalism. Later, I would decide to have other role models. And that would be okay too. Hemingway as a role model was as sparse as his writing.
But going back to Hemingway helps burn some of the fat off my soul. In this short story, Hemingway writes, "They had made this safari with the minimum of comfort. There was no hardship; but there was no luxury and he had thought that he could get back into training that way. That in some way he could work the fat off his soul the way a fighter went into the mountains to work and train in order to burn it out of his body."
Come to a foreign town.
Read books in abundance.
Live as simply as possible.
Write in abundance.
Truly this is a model to follow.
Has the fat from my soul been burned?
As I read this short story, I see hints of regret...a writer's regret. The writer's temptation is always to avoid the work. To find some reason, the void in which he/she writes, the apathy of those who don't read and certainly don't want to read his/her work, a business opportunity, a chance to socialize, anything to avoid the humbling work of actually putting words to page. Dying in a tent in Africa...one more way to avoid the work of writing...
When asked by George Plimpton about the function of his art, Hemingway proved once again to be a master of the "one true sentence": "From things that have happened and from things as they exist and from all things that you know and all those you cannot know, you make something through your invention that is not a representation but a whole new thing truer than anything true and alive, and you make it alive, and if you make it well enough, you give it immortality."
I should mention that I watched the movie version of this short story with my mom as she was dying of an illness. I did this without realizing what the movie was about. But my mother enjoyed the movie. In fact, she loved watching Gregory Peck and the old-style of film took her back to her childhood. The short story somehow feels diminished compared with the movie version...I can't say exactly why...I think the movie had more substance...
I would recommend Hemingway as a sparse model for how to live as a writer and how to do the work. I would recommend you return to him when there is fat that needs burning from your soul. I don't recommend him as a role model for manhood, but I would recommend his writing to understand the toxicity of manhood.
What else is there to say? Time to let this review die? The howling of the hyena tells me that it is over...
But going back to Hemingway helps burn some of the fat off my soul. In this short story, Hemingway writes, "They had made this safari with the minimum of comfort. There was no hardship; but there was no luxury and he had thought that he could get back into training that way. That in some way he could work the fat off his soul the way a fighter went into the mountains to work and train in order to burn it out of his body."
Come to a foreign town.
Read books in abundance.
Live as simply as possible.
Write in abundance.
Truly this is a model to follow.
Has the fat from my soul been burned?
As I read this short story, I see hints of regret...a writer's regret. The writer's temptation is always to avoid the work. To find some reason, the void in which he/she writes, the apathy of those who don't read and certainly don't want to read his/her work, a business opportunity, a chance to socialize, anything to avoid the humbling work of actually putting words to page. Dying in a tent in Africa...one more way to avoid the work of writing...
When asked by George Plimpton about the function of his art, Hemingway proved once again to be a master of the "one true sentence": "From things that have happened and from things as they exist and from all things that you know and all those you cannot know, you make something through your invention that is not a representation but a whole new thing truer than anything true and alive, and you make it alive, and if you make it well enough, you give it immortality."
I should mention that I watched the movie version of this short story with my mom as she was dying of an illness. I did this without realizing what the movie was about. But my mother enjoyed the movie. In fact, she loved watching Gregory Peck and the old-style of film took her back to her childhood. The short story somehow feels diminished compared with the movie version...I can't say exactly why...I think the movie had more substance...
I would recommend Hemingway as a sparse model for how to live as a writer and how to do the work. I would recommend you return to him when there is fat that needs burning from your soul. I don't recommend him as a role model for manhood, but I would recommend his writing to understand the toxicity of manhood.
What else is there to say? Time to let this review die? The howling of the hyena tells me that it is over...
December 2, 2020
A short story by Hemingway.A man is dying of gangrene,while on safari in Africa,and the story of his life comes to him in a series of flashbacks.
But it stuck me that he accepts his fate very stoically.He is very matter of fact about his impending death,showing little shock or panic.
It mirrors Hemingway's own experience as he was also wounded in Africa.The story was also adapted as a feature film,The Snows of Kiliminjaro (1952),with Gregory Peck in the lead role.
It can be seen on youtube.Some good shots of Africa,wildlife and vultures hovering in the background.However,I felt that there wasn't enough material in the short story to sustain a full length feature film.It's rather slow.
But it stuck me that he accepts his fate very stoically.He is very matter of fact about his impending death,showing little shock or panic.
It mirrors Hemingway's own experience as he was also wounded in Africa.The story was also adapted as a feature film,The Snows of Kiliminjaro (1952),with Gregory Peck in the lead role.
It can be seen on youtube.Some good shots of Africa,wildlife and vultures hovering in the background.However,I felt that there wasn't enough material in the short story to sustain a full length feature film.It's rather slow.
October 2, 2021
10 Kurzgeschichten von Ernest Hemingway.
Ich fand die Geschichten viel zugänglicher wie 'Der Alte Mann und das Meer'. Die Kurzgeschichten sind nicht miteinander verbunden, jedoch fand ich das die Qualität der Kurzgeschichten nach hinten raus abgenommen hat.
Trotzdem war es amüsant und die einfache, klare Sprache macht es leicht das Buch an einem Tag durchzulesen.
Ich fand die Geschichten viel zugänglicher wie 'Der Alte Mann und das Meer'. Die Kurzgeschichten sind nicht miteinander verbunden, jedoch fand ich das die Qualität der Kurzgeschichten nach hinten raus abgenommen hat.
Trotzdem war es amüsant und die einfache, klare Sprache macht es leicht das Buch an einem Tag durchzulesen.
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