In general, it was not as I expected. I expected to "see" Africa, I expected detailed and evocative descriptions of the safaris, the animals, the relationship between man and nature, even of the hunt because clearly I knew that was the subject of the book. But I didn't believe that the list of killed animals was so extensive. And since I deeply hate hunting and hunters, that whole part really disgusted me.

Moreover, Hemingway himself emphasizes over and over again the frantic search for the best possible specimens of animals not so much for exhibition at home or in photos, but in front of his own friends and acquaintances who accompany him on the trip. For example, the killing of the rhinoceroses occurs just to have a horn longer than that of the traveling companion. There is this obsessive desire to always be the best, in everything, in every aspect. So what matters, there in those days as in the pages of the book, are not the landscapes traversed or the states of mind of the various protagonists, or their thoughts. This is what I deeply despised and really bothered me.

Certainly the fact of being in the form of a diary also makes the novel lacking in plot and almost exclusively a hunting bulletin with more or less successful shots.

The most interesting part, in my opinion, is the first half when it deals with the parallel between hunting and writing and the role of the critics, defined as "lice" (but strange, no one has said that!!), who do not appreciate works of art (which, dear Hemingway, if they are "Green Hills of Africa" do well to crush you!).

In short, an honestly forgettable book where a really boring and unbearable side of Hemingway emerges.

Because I am flying off to Kenya and Tanzania tomorrow, it marks the end of my daily routine and the beginning of an adventure.

Auf Wiedersehen to the ordinary days and bonjour to the exciting journey that awaits.

I am filled with anticipation as I imagine the beautiful landscapes, diverse wildlife, and unique cultures that I will encounter.

The images I have seen of Kenya and Tanzania only add to my excitement.

The vibrant colors, the majestic animals, and the warm smiles of the people all seem to be calling out to me.

I can't wait to immerse myself in this new world and create memories that will last a lifetime.

As I prepare for my trip, I am making sure to pack all the essentials and get my camera ready to capture every moment.

Tomorrow is the start of something truly special, and I am ready to embrace it with open arms.

I was initially predisposed to dislike this book. My long-term fascination with Spain and my deeper appreciation of bullfighting made Hemingway's earlier non-fiction work, Death in the Afternoon, a captivating read. It perfectly captured what Miguel de Unamuno had identified as the Spaniards' “tragic sense of life.” This work had prepared me for a Hemingway who could handle non-fiction creatively. However, a non-fiction book about big game hunting in Africa seemed unappealing to me. I regarded bullfighting as an art, but big game hunting as wanton destruction.

I should have known that Hemingway could infuse strength into the seemingly uninteresting. Much like Death in the Afternoon, The Green Hills of Africa was about more than just hunting animals in the subcontinent. Of course, there was hunting. The book chronicled a month-long safari that Ernest and Pauline Hemingway took during their longer trip to East Africa between November 1933 and March 1934. Hemingway, an avid hunter, dedicated most of the pages to describing his stalkings and kills.

A significant portion of that description is some of his finest writing, especially in the last chapters. Yet, literary critics at the time dismissed the book as little more than a curiosity. They focused on the theme and overlooked the writing itself. But for Hemingway, the book was an experiment. As he wrote in the foreword, he aimed to write an absolutely true book to see if the shape of a country and the pattern of a month's action could, when truly presented, rival a work of imagination. The Green Hills of Africa was not only an account of a safari but also part of an experimental period with non-fiction. In this regard, it can perhaps be seen as a precursor to Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. It was also a work in which he continued to explore new stylistic elements, experimenting with more complex sentences with subordinate clauses and longer, more complex phrasings that would come to dominate some of his later fiction. An extreme example is the remarkable sentence on the Gulf Stream that spans from page 148 to page 150.

The incidents and people described in the book were real, or as real as Hemingway could make them. Hemingway himself was a major character,展现ing both his strengths and weaknesses. He was constantly irritated that one of his hunting companions, Charles Thompson (named Karl in the book), was more successful than he in bagging the really big animals. Moreover, he either failed to see or chose not to describe the African people. They were present but only as shadows, serving Papa and his friends. The account reflected Hemingway's own times and worldview, which was insensitive to people outside the Western European tradition. The 1930s were still the era of the White Man's burden.

Although Hemingway did not offer his readers an intimate view of Africa and its people, he did comment on writers and the art of writing. Scattered throughout the book are Hemingway's more personal thoughts on these topics. It was here that he recorded his thoughts on American letters, naming Henry James, Stephen Crane, and Mark Twain as the good writers. It was also in this book that he first discussed the Gulf Stream, which would become central to him in many ways in both his life and some of his future writings.

If for no other reason, the book has become more than a mere curiosity in the Hemingway corpus due to what followed its publication. The Green Hills of Africa was not well received by all critics, and Hemingway was depressed by the stinging critiques. In the midst of this depression, he extracted two stories from the safari experience recounted in The Green Hills of Africa that are arguably his best: “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and “The Short Life of Francis Macomber.” The Green Hills of Africa thus provided the platform for new heights in Hemingway's creative artistry.

When I delved into Ernest Hemingway's works not long ago, I had a strong desire to completely immerse myself in his literary world. Strangely enough, I opted for one of his African tales, namely "The Green Hills of Africa." In this work, he vividly recounts one of his hunting expeditions in Tanzania.

Soon enough, we find ourselves deeply submerged in this extraordinary African ambiance. There is the oppressive heat, the smiling Maasai people, the nonchalant guides, and the magnificent landscapes that seem to stretch endlessly.

However, the issue lies in the fact that it isn't overly exciting. The description of kudu hunting, to be honest, doesn't really grip our attention, especially when we reach the tenth hunt and have endured three pages of detailed accounts about the theater of operations.

Consequently, we should perhaps view this book as a testament to a bygone era. A time when vast territories remained unexplored, and hunting large animals was as commonplace as going shopping in the supermarket for him. This frenzied pursuit to kill the most significant animal and impress his hunting companions bothered me to some extent.

Anyway, without a doubt, this isn't my favorite Hemingway work.

Hemingway makes me realize I'm a pussy. He makes me realize every male human around me is a pussy.

After reading this book, I endeavored to discover Hemingway's masculinity and spirit in every man I know, both personally and those who are famous. However, the results were disappointingly lacking.

Then it dawned on me that EH couldn't have thrived in our era. There exists a symbiotic relationship between EH and the first half of the 20th century.

If you briefly peruse Hemingway's life on Wikipedia, you'll realize that his own life was a harsh novel in itself. His personality was molded by all the events that took place during this period of human history. Wars, financial depressions, male chauvinism, and huge racist concepts that were accepted in society - and these events affected every man alive in occidental countries.

Nowadays, we are taught that all these "events" were terrible for humanity, and although they still persist to some extent, we must make every effort to avoid them.

In an attempt to envision a 21st-century man in the scenes of "Green Hills of Africa," I simply cannot fathom a high-class, white, wealthy adult traveling alone with five Masai through the unknown, describing their body odor as a delicious fragrance, unable to communicate except by hand signals and an old dictionary, leaving behind their BlackBerries and iPads, guiding themselves by following tracks and wind changes, without the aid of Garmin or TomTom guidance.

Today, the meaning of masculinity has changed drastically. Reading EH's books feels like looking into a rearview mirror at a more simplistic life.

Hemingway has a unique way of disguising testosterone in his words, and for me, reading this book was a powerful dose of it.

After I finished it, I had the foolish idea of scouring web pages about hunting safaris in Africa and the prices of Springfield rifles. But after watching some videos on YouTube about major African hunts, I once again realized that I'm not cut from Hemingway's cloth. It's a bit disappointing and yet a relief at the same time, hehe.

Now, sitting in a coffee shop, sipping on a gelato, and typing on my netbook, I feel ashamed that if Ernest were to see me, he would likely utter a single phrase: "you really ARE a pussy."

What a truly pleasant surprise it was!

I picked up this book with the hope of finding vivid descriptions of landscapes, animals, or hunting, and that's precisely what I received. It brought back memories of Zane Grey's writing from my preteen days of reading. In my opinion, Hemingway was a typical white male asshole. However, he did depict himself as such throughout this book. It's evident that his brain was wired quite differently from mine.

Having relished this book as well as "The Old Man and the Sea," I am eager to explore more of his works.

Although my sons are all hunters, I truly don't understand the excitement of killing an animal. They utilize what they kill, just as Hemingway did, but at least they don't travel to other countries and kill solely for trophies. I suppose Hemingway was what might have been called a "man's man" in his era. Ugh. I'm just glad I never had to meet him or be in his presence. I have a hunch that I wouldn't have been able to tolerate his boastful behaviors, and definitely not his treatment of women!

But "give the devil his due," I do enjoy his writing.

The machismo is thick and pungent in Green Hills of Africa, Hemingway's autobiographical account of a hunting trip in Africa. At times it felt like the verbalization of this larger-than-life persona he had crafted for himself.

It is one part self-glorifying portrayal of a man's man and one part vilification of the same man for the same reason. If alpha-dog Hemingway had lived into his 80s, he would've lived into the 1980s, and if he had, I feel certain he would've been a contestant on American Gladiators. Afterwards he would've admitted he was acting like a damn fool. That's just how he was, ALL MAN! GRRR! But too introspective to believe his own bullshit.

Aside from that, there are some interesting details on big game hunting, African tribesmen and guides, and the occasional difficulty or ease of language exchange. When not hunting, Hemingway talks books and writers with the few intellectuals he brought with him on the trip or came across along the way. We hear his opinion on the quality of the writers of his day and just prior. Readers of A Movable Feast or those who know his personal history will catch the thinly veiled criticism of his once mentor Gertrude Stein.

Green Hills of Africa has lyrical turns and can be engrossing, especially if you have read some of his previous work. An interest in hunting might help, too. But of all his output, I could not suggest reading this first as it is not the quintessential "Hemingway." This is more like a supplement for his fans who want to learn more about the man and/or the myth. It offers a unique perspective into his life and mindset during this particular adventure, but it may not have the same impact as some of his more renowned works.

Of the two nonfiction Hemingway books I've read, namely "Green Hills of Africa" and "A Moveable Feast", the former is the superior one.

Even the sections of this book regarding writers and writing, a topic that "A Moveable Feast" is much more centered on, are fresher and more vivid. This is probably because they were penned contemporaneously rather than in retrospect, as was the case with "A Moveable Feast".

While a significant part of "Green Hills of Africa" bolsters the popular perception of Hemingway as a manly, swaggering hunter and drinker, it also serves to undermine that image. Throughout the book, he provides the reader with glimpses of his own self-doubt, especially the shame he experiences when pride gets the better of him. He also allocates a fair amount of space to others' ridicule of him. It is perhaps those conversations, as they run counter to the image of Hemingway so firmly entrenched in popular culture, that are among the most charming in the book.

Even if you are not particularly intrigued by big-game hunting - and I surely am not - this book offers many other rewards and remains well worth reading.

Hemingway can truly be an exasperating individual, and this book firmly belongs near the top of the "reasons why" list.

It is a memoir chronicling Hemingway's hunting adventure in East Africa, an area where I myself spent two weeks recently. "Green Hills" astonishingly shows no recognition whatsoever of the colonial history that shapes the relationships between the hunter and the numerous Africans who make his pleasure attainable.

There are a few fleeting moments when Hemingway acknowledges that the men accompanying him are just as proficient and brave as he is. However, these are overshadowed by countless scenes where white supremacy is deeply ingrained in the narrative. What makes this even more galling is Hemingway's conviction in his own honesty. Well, indeed.

Part of my reaction is undoubtedly related to the fact that I am not a hunter. My personal encounter with the wildlife in Tanzania was one of sheer wonder; I had not the slightest urge to kill it. I do comprehend that for Hemingway, hunting entails an aesthetic of attention and care that mirrors his approach to writing. And it is evident that there is a significant amount of irony in his portrayal of himself as the Great White Hunter. He misses just as many shots as he makes and describes his feelings of humiliation, but ultimately, it all culminates in celebration.

Stylistically, there are far too many instances where one cannot distinguish between Hemingway and a parody of him. This is far from his finest writing.

I was startled to encounter the famous passage, often excerpted out of context, in which Hemingway reflects on Huck Finn as the wellspring of American literature. It is a remarkable piece, strangely placed.

I am now proceeding to the short story collection "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," written after the experiences described in this book had had time to ferment.

I would be prepared to guess who Romain Gary was referring to in this passage from Les racines du ciel, published in 1956.

One day when he was drunk, I received the confidences of an American writer who came regularly to Africa to kill his share of elephants, lions and rhinos.

I asked him where this need came from, and he had drunk enough that he gave me an honest answer: "All my life, I've been scared shitless. Scared of life, scared of death, scared of getting sick, scared of becoming impotent, scared of the inevitable physical decline...

When it gets too much to stand, all my terror, all my fear becomes concentrated on the charging rhino, the lion who suddenly emerges from the grass in front of me, the elephant who turns in my direction.

My terror finally becomes something tangible, something I can kill. I fire, and for a time I am delivered from it, I am at peace, the animal I have shot has by its death removed all my accumulated fears."

This passage seems to suggest that the American writer is using hunting as a way to deal with his deep-seated fears and anxieties.

Perhaps he feels that by facing the danger of wild animals, he can overcome his own inner demons.

However, this method of dealing with fear is ultimately self-destructive, as it involves the killing of innocent animals.

It also shows that the writer is unable to face his fears in a more positive and healthy way.

Overall, this passage provides a fascinating insight into the psychology of fear and the lengths that some people will go to in order to try and overcome it.

Oftentimes an artist is most deeply revealed by their least known works.

These hidden gems often hold a wealth of emotions, thoughts, and experiences that the artist may not have been able to express as freely in their more famous pieces.

The least known works can provide a unique window into the artist's creative process, showing the evolution of their style and the influences that have shaped their art.

They may also offer a more intimate look at the artist's personal life and struggles, as these works are often created during times of experimentation or when the artist is exploring new themes.

By delving into an artist's least known works, we can gain a deeper understanding and appreciation of their artistry and the true essence of who they are as an artist.

That was truly beautiful.

Hemingway's works have always held a special charm for me. His writing style is concise yet powerful, capable of evoking the most profound emotions with just a few words.

I love Hemingway, love him with all my heart. His stories are like windows into different worlds, allowing me to experience the joys and sorrows of his characters.

Whether it's the adventures of Santiago in "The Old Man and the Sea" or the complex relationships in "A Farewell to Arms," Hemingway's words have the ability to transport me to another time and place.

His works are not only literary masterpieces but also a source of inspiration for me. They teach me the importance of perseverance, courage, and the pursuit of truth.

In conclusion, Hemingway is a literary giant whose works will continue to be cherished and studied for generations to come. I will always love him and his wonderful stories.