The Sun Also Rises

The Sun Also Rises [I cannot express to you how glad I am
that I am taking this class. I am thoroughly enjoying
Hemingway. The Sun Also Rises is one of the best books
I\'ve read in quite a long time. For a while there, I was, for
God knows what reason, taking Physics and Chemistry and
Biology. It is really an adventure to be back with books and
words and reading. I am also amazed that I never could
read more of Him when it wasn\'t an assignment. And how is
it that when I am told to write "a 3-5 page essay" I can only
come through with two-and-a-half, but a "one-page
response" always wants to be twenty pages long?] I finished
reading SAR around ten o\'clock tonight. I could have taken
it all in one big gulp when I began a week ago, but I couldn\'t
do that. It wanted me to bring it out slowly, so I often found
myself reading five or ten pages and laying it aside to absorb
without engulfing. A man gets used to reading Star Wars and
pulp fiction and New York Times Bestsellers and forgets
what literature is until it slaps him in the face. This book was
written, not churned out or word-processed. Again, I
thoroughly enjoyed reading. I never noticed it until it was
brought up in class, maybe because it wasn\'t a point for me
in In Our Time, but He doesn\'t often enough credit
quotations with, ",he said," or, ",said Brett," or, ",Bill
replied." In SAR it stood and called attention to itself. I
wasn\'t particularly bothered by His not telling me who said
what, but it was very...pointed. I first noticed around the
hundredth page or so. Then I realized I couldn\'t keep track
of who was speaking. By not dwelling on it, though, sort of
(hate to say this) accepting it, I managed to assign speech to
whomever I felt was speaking. Gradually I came to enjoy it,
in another plane of reading, figuring out from whom words
were originating. To not notice it, as if it were one of those
annoying 3-D posters that you can\'t see until you make a
concerted effort not to try and see, became simple - much
like those 3-D pictures are once you know what not to look
for. (I abhor ending sentences with prepositions...) His not
telling was heightening to the story. It made things come
even more alive. As a conversation that you\'re hearing at a
nearby table in a restaurant, the exchanges flowed, with me
as a more passive reader than in a story written to be read
instead of lived. It has always been troubling for me to read
a book with the knowledge that there are things I am
supposed to be catching, but not quite. The fish in the pools
and the allegory and analogy and symbolism aren\'t fond of
me. Trying to see that the bull-fighters and their purity or
lack and how it relates to Him as a writer surrounded by a
universe of new fiction printed for the masses, that is all fine
and well. The short sentences, the lack of qualifying, "he
said"s and "she saids" and such, the tragedy of his love for
Brett, those are the things I enjoy reading. Those are the
reasons I read and the reasons a man like Him writes. There
are stranger things, Horatio...or something like that. I believe
Paul Simon read Hemingway at some point in his life.
It is a good book. I was surprised that more was not given
to the bulls. The entire story was leading to it, and then it
was done and they were gone. Very powerful they were but
fleeting. I want to go now, of course, to Pamplona, as I\'m
sure everyone who reads does after finishing. It is probably
terrrrrrrible now with touristas and Coke and Nike all
around, but I bet still beautiful. A man was killed this year,
did you know?