What's so great about this book /lit/? Jake's just wandering around doing nothing, and complaining about his penis. It's boring. What am I missing?
I guess you have to like that kind shit OP. I liked it for the bullfighting bits, the sense of adventure and how it perfectly details what it's like to be at the mercy of a wishy washy white bitch.
I was a huge fan of how the characters interacted, how they talked behind each others' backs, riled each other up, that seemed very real. I liked the minimalist prose. Most of the book, especially the whole last section, just has a sense of subtle sadness, I loved the atmosphere.
What type of book do you like better, op? Most of the stuff on /lit/ can be broken down into one-sentence "it was nothing but x," it's about going deeper than that.
>jake's just wandering around doing nothing
One prominent theme of the book is how that lifestyle is destroying him. Jesus fucking christ.
>why didn't steinbeck let larry and george live happily ever after on a farm with rabbits
>why didn't dumas have everyone sit down with edmond and talk out their differences
>why didn't shakespeare let hamlet's dad live
>you'll never fish in Spain with your river cooled wine
>the modern bullfight is a tourist trap
>yurop full of mooslims
>tfw prefer smoking weed over alcohol
Oh man that book gets my neurotic regret machine going
The fishing trip was some of the comfiest shit I've ever read. I love how they had that random connection with the english dude and he made them flies as goodbye presents, goddamn reading that made me so happy for some reason
It's about the modernist apathy and depression that came following the first world war, the kind that made everyone want to drink and forget about the horrors of the world.
These people have had their whole ideology shaken by reality, they don't believe in love anymore because they know that humans do terrible things. They don't believe in goodness, in sincerity, in friendship, in anything. They see that the world of pretty roses and little white lies they were told to believe in their entire childhood/young adult life is a fucking sham.
And they (the lost generation) see all this fucked up shit happening, ya know? they see life how it really is, and they can't rationalize it. So what do they do? they numb themselves and pacify themselves with alcohol, with sex, with this, with that, etc.
But in the end it doesn't make them happy, so what do they do? They go somewhere else, convinced that will make them happy. And it doesn't. Everything is shit everywhere. And while it may be pretty to think about a world or a place or a time where things are nice, where things are good, where the world isn't shit, it's still just that, thinking. Which the book summarizes perfectly with the last line, I feel.
And the gr8 thing about Hemingway is that all of this happens underneath the text, off of the page. Iceberg and all that.
for what it represents - it was a capstone of the lost generation. For me, Hem is more myth than writer these days...best left to my high school years. i spent the past 5 years in europe chasing his ghost despite not being much enthused by writing anymore. oh well - tastes change