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I feel that Hemmingway has a very interesting style of writing, yet it's the message underlying his style of writing that bothers me deeply. I feel Hemmingway had such a bleak, fatalistic perspective about life...to live hard, play hard, and die hard and as quickly as possible. There is no sense of hope or self-preservation in his writing.
As a Plath and Sexton fan, I do appreciate sadness and melancholia in writing, and do not mind when the writer expresses a sense of discontent with life, ennui or depression... yet with Hemmingway, the consistent and monotonous lack of flair to his writing truly grates at my nerves. Hemmingway's writing is as bleak as his soul. I feel beneath the writing we see a man with an outlook on life that was sheerly pessimistic to the darkest degree.
I often question why he wrote. I'm not too certain that Hemmingway had much to offer. It's a very bold comment I'm giving, yet I don't feel it's inappropriate to give. I feel that Hemmingway's writing fails essentially with his message. Because their is none. Hemmingway almost seems to present the idea that life is not worth one difficult breath. Each story seems to scream that not only Hemmingway but the rest of the universe would be better off dead, and it's not in a way that's relatable to me. We all like to search for these feelings throughout our lives when we read at one point...writers who have also felt that life is at times, very difficult. Yet Hemmingway seemed to feel that because God, and women, and his children, and I would go so far as to say his colleagues or even his friends too, did not cater to his innate will, life was pointless. I simply cannot align to that, and I would hope many people do not align to this viewpoint also.
Another issue I have with Hemmingway in this book of short stories is the one dimensional features of his female characters. I cannot seem to find a single female character as relatable or worthwhile in the sense that every woman in an Hemmingway story is simply a copy of the other: she's out to destroy, control or infuriate the male protagonist even if he's sexually attracted to her or in love. I find this quite annoying and not because I hold a feminist POV, either. I feel it simply shows, once more, how deeply self-centered Hemmingway was in the worst manner. Hemmingway's dogma was his greatest failure in life.
I wonder why he did not realize sooner that after years and years of producing bleak, monotonous drivel that society would eventually look on in sadness and annoyance as he drowned in his own dull tantrums....
As a Plath and Sexton fan, I do appreciate sadness and melancholia in writing, and do not mind when the writer expresses a sense of discontent with life, ennui or depression... yet with Hemmingway, the consistent and monotonous lack of flair to his writing truly grates at my nerves. Hemmingway's writing is as bleak as his soul. I feel beneath the writing we see a man with an outlook on life that was sheerly pessimistic to the darkest degree.
I often question why he wrote. I'm not too certain that Hemmingway had much to offer. It's a very bold comment I'm giving, yet I don't feel it's inappropriate to give. I feel that Hemmingway's writing fails essentially with his message. Because their is none. Hemmingway almost seems to present the idea that life is not worth one difficult breath. Each story seems to scream that not only Hemmingway but the rest of the universe would be better off dead, and it's not in a way that's relatable to me. We all like to search for these feelings throughout our lives when we read at one point...writers who have also felt that life is at times, very difficult. Yet Hemmingway seemed to feel that because God, and women, and his children, and I would go so far as to say his colleagues or even his friends too, did not cater to his innate will, life was pointless. I simply cannot align to that, and I would hope many people do not align to this viewpoint also.
Another issue I have with Hemmingway in this book of short stories is the one dimensional features of his female characters. I cannot seem to find a single female character as relatable or worthwhile in the sense that every woman in an Hemmingway story is simply a copy of the other: she's out to destroy, control or infuriate the male protagonist even if he's sexually attracted to her or in love. I find this quite annoying and not because I hold a feminist POV, either. I feel it simply shows, once more, how deeply self-centered Hemmingway was in the worst manner. Hemmingway's dogma was his greatest failure in life.
I wonder why he did not realize sooner that after years and years of producing bleak, monotonous drivel that society would eventually look on in sadness and annoyance as he drowned in his own dull tantrums....