Do you ever say ''thank god it's Friday'' and then wonder
what is it that you hate? Your job, your life, your town, the people, being
stuck in some rut you can't get out of…or is it simply exhaustion and weekends
mean catching up on sleeping instead of ''tearing up the town''. Not like weekends mean what they did anymore,
if it's not working then it's catching up on work. I wonder when did life get
like this. My grandmother worked from 8 am to 3 pm and had the rest of the day
off and the weekends free for quick getaways, which she could afford as well as
an apartment. And my generation just goes to an ''Air bnb'' because it combines
traveling with the illusion of owning your own place, which let's face it, we
never will. When did life get so fucked up, I wonder.
But enough whining over things I have no power over,
today I feel like going back to a book review for a change, not feeling too
inspired music wise. Been listening to a lot of Kip Moore and Brantley Gilbert
these days (shut up I love them) and I don't own any of their music,
unfortunally. I promised a more ''relatable'' or say non fictional book so here
we are. Remember about the classics I said people keep on their coffee tables
to make them look smart? I actually know a few of those people with books by
Shakespeare and Tolstoj on their tables, conversation pieces but never really
read. One of such authors in my friends eyes is also Hemingway. Who's books are
on my desk too, with the exception that I read all of them. This one, which
this post is about, several times. It's one of my absolute favourite books and
I never get tired of re-reading it.
So ''A farewell to Arms'' is a novel that was first
published in 1929 and is set during the Italian campaign of World War I. It
describes a love affair between Henry an American paramedic and an English
nurse Catherine. It's been adapted in plays and a movie that was actually directed
by Attenborough. The novel is about Hemingway's own experience serving in the
Italian front during the First World War. The inspiration for the character of
Catherine is actually Agnes von Kurowsky a nurse who cared for Hemingway in
Milano after he had been injured. Like, oh my god you guys, can you imagine not
only of course being a nurse caring for THE Hemingway but actually being THE
nurse that inspires only the most brilliant piece of literature ever created. Doesn't
every woman want that? To be the reason someone got inspired and wrote about
her, telling her she has galaxies in her eyes and that he never wants to kiss
her goodbye only goodnight. Sigh. I
guess I shouldn't complain, I had a song written about me, or two, or three...Can't
say they were all nice, romantic songs but still, I managed to inspire some
sort of emotion.
So this Agnes, Hemingway had planned to marry her but
that didn't happen when he returned to America instead. A large portion of this
book though, was based on inspiration from a collection of letters from
Hemingway's friend Frederic Agate who wrote home to his wife while staying in
Italy. I read somewhere that he struggled with the ending of the book. Don't we
all struggle with a good ending, a closure of some sort? I never know how to
end these ramblings I write. Used to write lyrics and could never come up with
a good ending. It's not just that writing is hard, endings, goodbyes, those are
harder. So in concequence, this book had as he said 39 endings and in a 2012
edition of the book there were 47 alternate endings. Okay wow. I kinda like
that to be fair. I mean imagine you're not happy with the ending (I'm looking
at you Russo brothers and JJ Abrams) and you just get to pick another one that
you do like, I mean out of 47 there's bound to be at least one satisfactory
ending.
There were of course also censorship problems, the book
was banned in the ''Irish free state'' and not allowed to be published in Italy
before 1948 because of the Fascist regime which considered the book detrimental
to the honor of the Armed forces. If you ask me though the problem was more
that Hemingway has a personal antipathy with Benito Mussolini. I think in an
interview Hemingway called him the ''biggest bluff in Europe'', actually makes
me wonder what he would have to say about this century's favourite bluff Mr.
Donald Trump (y'all caught the latest speech this idiot gave? My god).
I don't really know what it is about this book that I
love so much. Apart from Ernest being nothing short of a genius and the way he
wrote, the language he used being nothing but perfection. The poetic and
romantic way he described things. The way he ''wrote hard and clear about what
hurt''. Everything is just as it should be. Speaking of which, unrelated but,
you know what's another big wish of mine? I live like what 250 km away from
Venice. I've seen entire Italy more or less but I've never been to Venice,
which is nothing short of a crime against humanity. So the wish is not only to
see Venice but to actually go to the ''Harry's bar'' restaurant and order a
Montgomery because rumour has it Hemingway was the first person to do so. And even
if not, imagine sitting in a bar where a master sat, possibly typing away,
creating a masterpiece. Must be the same feeling as it was standing in the
middle of the Cappella Sistina, under the Creation of Adam, which is an amazing
work of art and there is nothing on this planet that compares to it's
construction and beauty.
It's probably the same old ''soldier and a nurse'' love
story that the hopless romantic in me falls for in the end. Or the charming way the fling starts, that was
just a bit of amusement for Henry but developed into a real passionate affair
that he did not expect. I guess it's the cliche way how when Henry is wounded
with a smashed knee and transfered to an American hospital and the very nurse
that gets to take care of him is Catherine. How poetic isn't it? A romantic
love story, where they ride into the sunset and it's all rainbows and cupcakes.
Don't we all want a romantic ending like that? Sadly though this story, like many of our own
real life stories, does not end with rainbows and unicorns and cupcakes.
What I felt though throught this book was that maybe
Henry as a bit too experienced, maybe he knew too much about what he writes
about for his age, which of course is no surprise given that the author
actually ''lived the book''. Though we know, thanks to many biographers that he
didn't actually serve as a soldier in WWI, and that him and Agnes didn't get
married, but there is still something so authentic and profoundly true about
the story that nothing else really matters.
See Catherine in this book is a typical well brought up
woman, who probably had a bit more luxury, and was a bit more spoiled, and had
certain things expected of her and her being unconcerned about the scandal this
affair would bring is completely unbelievable, but the way he builds on her
character, making her grow and develop as a person, you see things in another
light. Catherine is engaged to a soldier, they know eachother, they have known
each other for years, and they also lived by what the society told them is
right. The whole ''no sex before marriage''. I still don't know how people made
that work. I mean don't get me wrong, I believe that in any and all
relationships, trust, love, understanding is far more important, but it would
be foolish to say that a sexual union is not just as important. So if you take
a car for a test drive…you won't have a go at how you mesh together in the
bedroom? I mean,…you know. Easier to replace a car than get a divorce,
especially if there are real feelings involved. Even if I have to admit,
there's something awfully romantic about the building up of sexual tension and
waiting they could marry and enjoy the freedom that marriage could provide.
Before marriage comes though, all the death and horrors
that the war brings makes Catherine aware of how fragile life really is and how
quickly it can be taken away which makes it easy for her to violate all the
upbringing she's had and fall straight to Henry's arms, or should I say bed?
I think I knew how the book will end before I read it the
first time. I don't know what it was, maybe the deep mistrust towards authors
who seem to be allergic to happy endings (I'm looking at you Nicholas Sparks),
maybe the fact that a book set in that time, in that place, just can't have a
happy ending, nevermind how much you'd wish for one. But even though that I'm the one allergic to
tragic endings and I refuse to watch movies that end sad (like the one with
Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, I don't care how amazing it is, I heard how it
ends and so keep it away from me) I love this book. I think that the fact that
it ends in tragedy, it didn't make me as sad, life is a tragedy after all and
there could only be one ending to this journey, or you know 47 endings. Which I never read, would you believe. I only
had one copy, the one with the original ending, that's been re-read about a
hundred times. I guess I like having my heart ripped out over and over again. I
guess I like being left heartbroken after I finish the last page each time I
read the book. And I guess I like looking at the rain differently. It hasn't been
the same for me after I read this book.
It's a beautifully told story, constructed so well it
makes you hair stand on end, it makes you feel emotions that you probably
didn't know you can before you picked this novel up. And I think the ending
itself is not meant as a tragic ending to a love story but a tragic ending to
war in general. War is hell. War is a tragedy and that's what's portrayed here.
With Catherine, their son and his friends dying in the end it's I think also an
illusion to all his hopes and dreams dying as well. But it's that ending, never
mind how catastrophic it is, it shows
the brilliance of Ernest Hemingway at the top of his art, writing pages
with such indirectly expressed emotion, all the grief, all the anger all the
pain. It rips out your heart and leaves you panting I swear. Maybe that's
another reason I like it so much. I like fantasy most yes but it's not that
much about fantasy, it's mostly about forbidden love, and heartache, and
pining, and then either ultimate happiness or complete sadness. I like books
that make me feel emotions I didn't even know I have, books that rip out my
heart in a good or bad way. It doesn't matter. Just books that aren't shallow
or something too keep you busy, but make you think, feel, change your
perception of different things. Books that ruin you. You know what I mean?
''Maybe…you'll fall in love with me all over again.''
''Hell,'' I said, ''I love you enough now. What do you
want to do? Ruin me?''
''Yes. I want to ruin you.''
''Good,'' I said. ''That's what I want too.''
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