Do you remember the opening lines of "A Farewell To Arms" (1929) and "To Whom The Bells Tolls" (1940)? They both begin by evoking the countryside. In the first, there is the white dust road, the white dust on the leaves of the trees, and the river with white boulders in the sun. In the latter, there are the pine needles on the floor of the pine forest in the hills above the bridge of the gorge, high above the river. Hemingway always manages to evoke an entire vista with just a few words, repetition, and flat colors.

Here, while the novel starts with a duck shoot and the ice on the lagoon, it isn't long before he is by the side of a river, presenting a cameo of a war that unfolds in just a handful of words. Immediately, you are in the heart of the story, and a whole history lies beneath, from which he gradually draws his characters. One of the main reasons he is so highly regarded as a writer is that he can paint entire landscapes of the countryside and history with just a few strokes of his pen, using lean prose patterned with repetition that is both universal and particular. It is universal to our imaginations and to human history, and particular to his characters, such as Tenente and Catherine, Jordan and Maria, Cantwell and Renata.

This book links those two because the Colonel briefly relives his time as a lieutenant in Italy fighting the Austrians in World War I (as in "A Farewell To Arms") and as an American observer in the Spanish Civil War (in "For Whom The Bell Tolls", actually an explosives engineer fighting the nationalists for the rebel Republicans). But it is good to be able to bridge these two great novels here, reading this and knowing the stories behind them, and understanding the context of the loyalties and threads of respect between the Colonel and the Venetians. Mostly, though, he relives the final advances after D-Day through France to Paris.

Over the decades, "A Farewell To Arms" has always been a part of my youth, having read it at such a romantic age. But after recently reading "For Whom The Bell Tolls", I would be hard-pressed to say which one is my favorite. There are times when you wish you had read a book at the right time, early in life. You can never turn back the clock and do it properly, but the next best thing is to read it anyway, as soon as you can. However, I wish there had been a module titled "The Great American Novel" in the English degree course I just completed. That would have been something, and both of those novels would have to be there, along with "The Great Gatsby" and "Tender Is The Night", "Tom Sawyer" and "Huck Finn", probably "East Of Eden" and "The Grapes Of Wrath", "The Catcher In The Rye" (probably not), "Catch-22", "The Sound And The Fury", "Slaughterhouse-Five", and not forgetting Marilynne Robinson's "Gilead" and Chandler's "The Big Sleep". Or Toni Morrison's ("A Mercy" or "Beloved"?). What a great module that would be! Of course, you could only have 10 or 12 novels at most in one module if most were on the shorter side, but you'd have to have both of each of those, and Hemingway's. And you get extra marks for drawing on other works by the same author on similar themes, so reading "Across The River And Into The Trees" would fit nicely with those two great novels of his. So how does it compare?

Well, firstly, this feels very autobiographical. It seems like Hemingway is describing himself in an alter ego, not a character. Hemingway said in the late 1920s, before he wrote "A Farewell To Arms", that he would no longer write novels with an autobiographical content. But, of course, that was impossible to do, because whether we see him in the Tenente, Jordan, or the Colonel, we cannot escape the author, despite the false claims of literary critics. This novel is full of Hemingway.

In this, there is a disparity in the ages of the lovers that did not exist in the other two, where they were both equally young. Both of those were tragedies. But the spirit of those two novels was the way that camaraderie existed among the desperate fighting and tenderness between the lovers, in that atmosphere of life probably being impossibly short. Here, we gather that Cantwell's life may also be short, and that the love between him and the young girl is also impossible, and it has that strained sense of doom that Hemingway writes about so well, through skirting and oblique dialogue. But it lacks something. It lacks the impossible hope that is so prevalent in those two finer novels, which is so fundamental to them - and you don't know you're reading tragedies when you read them. Here, you feel that you are, it's in the very fabric, the atmosphere, the damp environment. In the setting of Venice in winter, with the cold winds and the place like a ghost town. In the unrealizable future of the two characters. In the almost futile dialogue between them.

"The Colonel held her close, with her head thrown back and kissed her until there was nothing left of the kiss but desperation" (Arrow, 2004, p.107).

This is a lesser work and a lesser read than his "big five". The most widely read is "The Old Man And The Sea" (1952), because of its Pulitzer Prize and Nobel Prize fame, but it is really a short story, not a novella. Then comes "The Sun Also Rises" (1926), surprisingly. Then "For Whom The Bell Tolls" (1940), then "A Farewell To Arms" (1929), then his autobiography, "A Moveable Feast" (1964). People seem to like his autobiography the best, then "For Whom The Bell Tolls", then the posthumous "Islands In The Stream" (1970) and "The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories" (1939), then "The Sun Also Rises" and "Farewell To Arms" about the same. Then "The Old Man And The Sea". "Across The River And Into The Trees" and "The Torrents Of Spring" (1926) are way down there in popularity. My Arrow copy had too many typos, missing speech marks, but the worst fault was naming Cantwell Cantrell on the cover blurb. How did they miss that? Buying these cheap publications is not wise. But this copy was second-hand, and I would not buy any more Arrow books.

One of the strangest novels I’ve ever read,

and it is as tedious as anything I’ve ever come across.

There are only a few scenes that are memorably described,

which stand out amidst the overall dullness of the narrative.

However, despite these rare闪光点, this book truly deserves its reputation of being very unsatisfactory.

The story lacks a coherent and engaging plot,

and the characters are not well-developed enough to draw the reader in.

The writing style is also rather平淡, failing to create the kind of atmosphere and excitement that one would expect from a good novel.

In conclusion, while there may be a few redeeming qualities, this novel is ultimately a disappointment.

A beautiful illustrated edition from 1952. On Goodreads, this book doesn't fare so well. Nevertheless, I found it delightful to read. I have enjoyed many surprising sentences that are so delightfully dry.

The colonel is haughty and arrogant, insists on being called'sir' by his chauffeur, but also allows himself to be taught in a wonderful way by his'subordinates'.

The theme is serious: decay, separation from life, a look back at the war.

The romance between the 50-year-old colonel and a 19-year-old noble Venetian is really terrible.

But the smile comes through the great observations:

‘It was more a defensive than an offensive bathroom, the colonel thought.’

‘He had a strange face like an overgrown disappointed weasel or ferret.’

‘The colonel breakfasted with the calm of a boxer who has been badly defeated, hears the count of four and sees a chance to relax for another five seconds.’

‘What kind of boy is that? Such a sad sort of American?’

‘There is nothing that comes as close to a good museum like the Prado or the Academy as a market, the colonel thought.’

‘There were eels that were still alive but had lost their faith in their eeldom.’

‘Did you sleep well? It was like skiing in the dark. Not really skiing, but really dark.’

‘He took four tablets of the kind you take two of.’

Voy por la página 238.

There are only 13 little pages left, but I'm afraid that if I look again, another 100 pages might spontaneously grow. Hemingway is criticized by Nabokovians and Faulknerians, and this title, undoubtedly one of the weakest in his oeuvre, is a vulnerable flank through which to attack him without mercy. Any shot will hit the target.

Some people have dared to compare it with Muerte en Venecia by Thomas Mann. Although I'm not a fan of Mann, that particular book I really liked quite a bit. One of its undoubted values is how synthetic and concentrated the prose is, at the same time evocative and melancholy, leaving room for literal and symbolic interpretations. That iconic encounter of the old professor with death could be a model for Hemingway, but comparing the two would be like comparing a municipal landfill with the quietest and most tree-lined square just because both places are in the same municipality.

There is a story by Hemingway in Las nieves del Kilimanjaro where he describes a day of fishing of a man for whom every movement is a great effort and it is finally discovered that it is because of his war wounds. In a small space, Hemingway hits hard. It's exciting. In Al otro lado del río y entre los árboles, it seems as if he tried to repeat the same strategy, that of the iceberg, offering a few signs about a greater reality that, when intuited, generates a cathartic effect. The problem is that he thought of adding hundreds of unbearable and cheesy dialogues between the protagonist, a 50-year-old colonel in the US army, and Renata, his lover, a 19-year-old girl.

A romance that symbolizes that last flame of beauty and light of the sick colonel but that doesn't have much strength as a symbol, because each dialogue comes to reinforce, emphasize and stress the idea that they both love each other very, very much even though there are no real reasons for a middle-aged man seasoned in war to be interested in a flower girl nor for a dazzling young woman to be interested in such a limping, self-pitying and melancholy man in whom the false resounds strongly. A love story is a line between two points. In this case, I see the two points but not the line, which has been drawn with a trembling hand.

To the falseness of the story and the length of the text is added that its war part, composed of the memories of the sick colonel during World War II, also lacks interest and even less appeal.

Hemingway, always so modest about his work, said that the book is an ascending scale of emotion, in which at the end the reader has to feel an overwhelming force, almost unbearable. We must remember that Hemingway was also a consummate drinker, a real vacuum cleaner of all kinds of alcohols. God forgive me for such a mean comment. But only on the condition that he first forgives Hemingway for sending such a piece of junk to the printer.

It is a little-known book by Hemingway that tells, through a colonel on the verge of retirement, the ins and outs of World War II and the military world.

The part that I liked the least is the one starring him together with a 19-year-old girl with whom he has a romance. I didn't like either the unbearable girl or the relationship they maintain.

This book offers a unique perspective on the war and the military, but the romantic subplot detracts from its overall quality. The colonel's character is well-developed, but the young girl's is one-dimensional and unlikable. The relationship between them feels forced and unconvincing, and it takes away from the more interesting aspects of the story.

Despite this flaw, the book is still worth reading for its insights into the war and the military. Hemingway's writing style is as engaging as ever, and he does a good job of bringing the characters and the setting to life. Overall, it is a flawed but interesting work that is sure to appeal to fans of Hemingway and those interested in military history.

I read a significant portion of this fictional narrative that centered around an American colonel in Venice shortly following World War II.

However, as I progressed, the dialogues began to feel overly tedious.

Consequently, I made the decision to skip to the last two pages and then put the book aside.

As it transpired upon reaching the conclusion, the story unfolded along a highly foreseeable trajectory.

I would not classify this as one of Hemingway's more outstanding novels.

Incidentally, it is important to note that this book was actually published in 1950, contrary to what is indicated on the Goodreads resource site, which shows 1920.

This misinformation could potentially lead to misunderstandings among readers.

Despite this, Hemingway's writing style still managed to capture my attention initially, but the predictability of the plot ultimately detracted from the overall reading experience.

Perhaps a more in-depth exploration of the characters and their motivations could have made the story more engaging and less formulaic.

Nonetheless, it remains an interesting piece of literature that offers a glimpse into Hemingway's literary oeuvre.

The inability to recapture lost youth and to forget the recent wounds of war, one intangible and one tangible, permeate the thoughts of Colonel Richard Cantrell.

He is a man haunted by the past, forever longing for something that can never be regained.

Adding to his turmoil is his love for a countess, Renata. She is young enough to be his daughter, and yet he finds himself irresistibly drawn to her.

He knows deep down that their love can never be, that there are too many obstacles in their way.

Venice and its canals and palaces serve as the backdrop to this achingly honest evocation of a love that was never meant to be.

The beauty and romance of the city only heighten the sense of longing and despair that pervades the story.

What is truly remarkable about this book is not so much what is said as what is not said.

The unspoken emotions and desires add a layer of depth and complexity to the narrative, making it a truly unforgettable read.

'What did you do in the war, Daddy?'

'I was a pervy old man who wanted to sleep with young girls.'

I suppose if I were a man having a midlife crisis, I might have enjoyed this book. I don't know who else would. Jeremy Clarkson, perhaps?

It's after the war. An American soldier in his fifties checks in to a hotel in Venice. He goes out to dinner with a nineteen-year-old girl. Next morning they have breakfast and go shopping. He checks out of the hotel. He goes and shoots a few ducks. Then he dies.

That's the entire story. Oh, yes, and he keeps constantly talking about the war and she keeps acting as if she is interested in hearing about it. But in reality, it's just a sad fantasy of a man with a very fragile ego. He needs the constant flattery of female attention. And only a very young woman, who may not have much life experience, would not get extremely bored and impatient with his total self-absorption. I, being much too old, simply cannot tolerate this kind of stuff. Poor Ernest Hemingway, who is considered one of the foremost among the dead white men.

The first work that I read from this author.

It's a story about a man who, now that he is turning the last pages of his life, has found love. But the final surrender is inevitable and cannot be avoided.

The imagery is extremely excellent, and the text is rich. It is a sign of the author's mastery and a passionate life that this author has left behind.

This is the last work of this author, two years before his suicide.

This story seems to be a profound exploration of love and the inevitability of fate in the face of life's end. The beautiful imagery helps to bring the story to life and makes the reader feel as if they are a part of the man's journey. It also makes one wonder about the author's own state of mind when writing this, given that it was his last work before taking his own life. Overall, it is a thought-provoking and powerful piece of literature.

I often find myself wondering if I will always be so profoundly influenced by the war motives presented in novels. In the past, I would not have even considered those thoughts that were articulated in Hemingway's novel. But now, they have become something personal to me. When reading is already so challenging, one can only imagine what it must be like for those who have actually experienced similar events.

However, despite being captivated by the war stories, "Across the River and into the Trees" proved to be a rather mediocre novel. In my view, the main idea and essence of the novel were conveyed in just a few chapters. After that, the element of repetition merely increased the volume of the book without adding any real substance. It was as if the writer was simply following a predetermined plan.

While I was indeed impressed by the war motifs (or rather, the concept of them), I was equally underwhelmed by the love story, which seemed to be a secondary element to the overall storyline. And overall, the novel felt rather secondary, even within Hemingway's body of work.

The story revolves around a colonel who returns from the war to his small town and tries to occupy himself by hunting ducks.

He notices that the locals treat him with suspicion. He forms a relationship with a young girl while he is over fifty years old. The story is dominated by the rural nature between the colonel and the locals, the taxi driver, the girl he loves, his friends who are still alive,

and his comrades in a fictional organization.

Hemingway wrote his political views and his attitude towards war, life, and love through this colonel.

Throughout the story, I feel bored with the talk about war, politics, the Germans, and the Austrians.

I didn't like this boring narrative that didn't differ with any character he interacted with in his story across the river and around the trees.

Even the love story that was between an old man and his niece, as he used to call her.

I couldn't digest it.

I found it extremely boring.

In a certain place in the book, it says:

"Every word about war takes away the courage of those who have no part in it. Except, of course, the stories of the liars."

The book took away my courage in many places, so it seems that the story it tells about war is a real one. Overall, reading it was a good experience; the wonderful details, the vivid descriptions, the good dialogues, and so on.

I think one problem I had with the book was that I'm not very familiar with the history of World War I and especially World War II and their events. So perhaps in the future, when this problem is solved, I can read the book again and get more pleasure and benefit from it.

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Gabriel García Márquez's opinion about this work is as follows:

Even if we know this novel as a comical portrayal of Hemingway's own fate, in my opinion, his most profound and human writing is this most failed work of his: on the other side of the river, under the trees.

Hemingway has never revealed such a part of his being in any of his books as he has here, nor has he found a way - with such beauty and such breadth - to express the fundamental voice of life and its effects: the futility of victory. The death of the hero of his story, as it is found in perfect peace and in a completely natural way, was the embodiment of the transformation of his face and his own suicide...