An American Writer.

I first read Hemingway when I was fifteen. We'd been assigned The Old Man and the Sea as part of the curriculum in my sophomore honors English class. I seem to remember the assignment coinciding with our Spring Break, as I can picture myself reading the book aloud to my brother - for that felt like the only way I'd ever get through the thing - while we were vacationing in Arizona with my mother. Funny, how strongly I remember reacting to The Old Man and the Sea, and not in a good way. I remember complaining to my parents about how much I disliked the book, about how boring and dull I found the story.

Oh, dear teen aged Kelli. What you will learn in just a few years time.

I was twenty the next time I encountered Hemingway, assigned A Farewell to Arms in what was the best class I took in college - The Modern American Novel. The assignment of A Farewell to Arms fell around early March on our class syllabus, as I remember reading that book on my Spring Break as well, while visiting my mother and brother in Georgia. Unlike my first Hemingway assignment, I didn't complain about this read. I didn't need to read it aloud to my brother in an attempt to make it through the thing. Instead I devoured it, pouring over the pages, highlighting and underlining passage after insightful and heartbreaking passage. When I read the final, satisfying pages, I sobbed. I recall in that moment, thinking to myself - fully realizing for probably the first time - how impressive a feat it is to write a book like that; to have a story still mean so much even after it was written so many years earlier.

I had always loved to read, had loved stories since the day I came out of the womb, but I believe it was A Farewell to Arms that truly made my growing into adulthood-self aware of just how powerful a book can be. A Farewell to Arms remains one of my top five favorite novels; Hemingway my favorite author.

I read For Whom The Bell Tolls while backpacking through Europe, so very grateful to have found a copy written in English while I was in Venice. I've picked up his collection of short stories often throughout the years, reading a few here or there in between novels or when inspiration is utterly lacking. Last week, after unsuccessfully filling the reading void after I finished Unaccustomed Earth, I turned once again to my tried and true.

I'm currently reading A Moveable Feast, his memoir of Paris in the 1920's. Of course, any book about Paris in the 1920's is bound to interest me, but this one pulls at my head and my heart for another reason as well. Throughout the book, Sir Hemingway is talking about his craft. He writes about his writing, his style, his work. And what has stuck with me the most is the reminder that the stories, the words didn't just "come to him" from thin air. He worked very, very hard on his stories. I find this knowledge empowering, as I've been working very hard myself at writing (away from these blog posts) this winter. I can say, without question that writing - and writing well - is one of the most challenging things I've ever done. Of course, I am in no way, shape, or form comparing myself to the Nobel Prize winning Hemingway. But how refreshing, how comforting, to be reading a master of the American novel and realizing that he too struggled to find just the right word, he also had writer's block, and yes, even Hemingway (Hemingway!) worried that his work wasn't good enough, that no one would want, like, or enjoy his stories. Hemingway!

"It was wonderful to walk down the long flights of stairs knowing that I'd had good luck working. I always worked until I had something done and I always stopped when I knew what was going to happen next. That way I could be sure of going on the next day. But sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, "Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there."
- A Moveable Feast -

You know the game. The "If you could have dinner with any person, living or dead, who would it be?" game. It's a tough question, one you could think about and debate for days on end. However, I am quite sure I have my answer. Ernest Hemingway.