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3.93 AVERAGE
3.93 AVERAGE
In this series of essays, Hemingway takes us to the Paris of his early years, years of poverty and writing for scraps, of big dreams and mornings in the cafe, of fellow writers and poets and a life that shines so bright after the horror of war. Some of these are more interesting than others but all are written with a unique style. He often seems like a real jerk in his interactions with the more minor characters in his life and he openly discusses the circumstances that led to him having a devastating affair that broke his marriage. So I’m not loving him as a person but my favorite thing about this book, beyond the intimate portrait of Parisian cafe life, is the idea of a “moveable feast” - those bountiful memories that fill us for the rest of our lives, wherever that life takes us.
“We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and loved each other.”
I didn't enjoy Paris. I found it cold and wet, the waiters were rude, and the stately architecture was counteracted by the smell.
Hemingway's Paris was a century before mine, but they were the same streets. It’s like when someone loves a movie you found dull: it doesn't matter how much they marvel at the cinematography or acting. It won’t change that you didn't connect.
But the focus here wasn't on the city, but on a peculiar time in Hemingway’s life when everything felt alive; he met some of the most interesting people of the 20th century, drank good wine, tasted delicious food. He made good art. He distills the years that were so important to him with trademark brevity, and makes even his cold nights in an unheated apartment seem envious.
It just works.
I didn't enjoy Paris. I found it cold and wet, the waiters were rude, and the stately architecture was counteracted by the smell.
Hemingway's Paris was a century before mine, but they were the same streets. It’s like when someone loves a movie you found dull: it doesn't matter how much they marvel at the cinematography or acting. It won’t change that you didn't connect.
But the focus here wasn't on the city, but on a peculiar time in Hemingway’s life when everything felt alive; he met some of the most interesting people of the 20th century, drank good wine, tasted delicious food. He made good art. He distills the years that were so important to him with trademark brevity, and makes even his cold nights in an unheated apartment seem envious.
It just works.
A true literary feast for any fan of Hemingway, Paris, or the roaring 20s. Hemingway’s memories are especially moving if you have spent any time in Paris and long to know it as it was during an era of creativity, enchantment, and excess. A quick and interesting glimpse into the early life of one of the world’s greatest writers before anyone know it was his destiny, the novel transports you to the cafes and bars that shaped his prose. “But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.”
I don't think I read A Moveable Feast in good faith when I read in 2017 with the way I rated it. Well now I enjoyed it. I like the way Hemingway talked about books, the food he ate, the places he saw. And damn if I didn't find Gertrude Stein (as he talks about her) insufferable and Scott Fitzgerald more so. What a whiner.
Hemmingways books are usually beautifully written, but about boring people doing boring things. This is somewhat of an exception, purhaps being more closesly based on real life forces the characters to have depth and personality.*
I was generally entertained by the stories and for once don't regret my time on a Hemmingway book.
* The one exception being that of his first wife who as near as I could tell was just a cardbored cutout of a women with the words, "Yes Tatie" written on it.
I was generally entertained by the stories and for once don't regret my time on a Hemmingway book.
* The one exception being that of his first wife who as near as I could tell was just a cardbored cutout of a women with the words, "Yes Tatie" written on it.
52: A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway...read on the way home from an amazing adventure to London, Paris, and Rome. I loved reading about the places I'd recently seen, as described by Hemingway himself. I wasn't sure how to feel about his assessments of other writers and artists, especially when they weren't completely favorable. It made me a tad uncomfortable to read his descriptions of F. Scott Fitzgerald, for instance, in his drinking and leaving Hemingway hanging. I was also concerned/confused/uncomfortable when it seemed to me that he'd started a section describing himself married to Hadley but then before that section was finished was talking about Pauline, his wife after Hadley. But overall I really enjoyed reading Hemingway's description of life in Paris on the heels of my very own very brief "life in Paris."
informative
reflective
medium-paced