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caladium's review against another edition
5.0
Me encantó. Siendo tan cortito, me tomé un tiempo para leerlo y disfrutarlo. Si bien al principio no entendía el ritmo de las oraciones, al par de páginas se le encuentra y toma una cadencia bastante magnética y difícil de entender cómo lo logra con tan poca puntuación y tanta fluidez. Siempre da gusto leer libros así, tener una ventana a lo que pasaba hace 100 años, ver el amor de la gente por la cuidad y cómo se influyen nuevamente, atisbar el actuar de otros notables escritores y sentir cómo vivían "bien", siendo pobres pero felices. Recomendable, aunque no para todo el mundo.
classic_toby's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
3.5
I enjoyed the parts about living and writing in Paris and being poor but happy. The parts concerning Fitzgerald depressed me and the final chapter was bittersweet. I think that’s a good summation of the entire book– bittersweet.
changeinpressure's review against another edition
4.0
I was lucky enough to pick this up at Shakespeare and Company in Paris back in 2022, when I visited for a weekend. My copy has the lovely stamp on the first page and it came with a lovely cat bookmark too!
Loved reading about Hemingway’s adventures in the city, especially with the Fitzgeralds (found it HILARIOUS that Fitzgerald was self-conscious about his size so he asked Hemingway to look at it and give his opinion
Loved reading about Hemingway’s adventures in the city, especially with the Fitzgeralds (found it HILARIOUS that Fitzgerald was self-conscious about his size so he asked Hemingway to look at it and give his opinion
marsius's review against another edition
4.0
"This is how Paris was when we were very poor and we were very happy." Part autobiography and part memoir of a time when a young man rubbed elbows with the greatest authors, poets, and writers of his time. As readers, we know Hemingway proved his talent tanked among theirs soon after, but he writes here as if he were unaware of what was coming. In many ways, this is a frustrating book. For a man whose work is so often characterized by the most precise, sparse use of language, his autobiography at many points veers into loose, almost lazy prose mixed with ungainly syntax. Indeed, there's a great deal of irony to read of his efforts to develop his spartan style, his straining for his idea of "le mot juste," in prose that is often anything but. In some ways, then, I suppose this is a reflection of the depression and other illnesses that afflicted him at the end of his life. At the same time, his reflections on his contemporaries is wonderfully insightful. There's great exploration of Hemingway's friendship with Ezra Pound and a very frank look at F. Scott Fitzgerald's problems both with alcohol and with Zelda. Finally, Hemingway's portrayal of 20s-era Paris is gorgeous and enough make me nostalgic even for 2000s era Paris. The description of street upon street of walking, smelling, and seeing was vivid and brought to mind my own experiences walking many of those same streets (and making me want to return, ideally with no loans, the ability to afford to live in Paris, and maybe the talent to write a novel . . .).
That said, I have to imagine he's minimizing details as well. For example, there clearly feels like there's more to the deterioration with his relationship with Gertrude Stein, but, without looking to outside sources, one would be left with the impression that they just sort of drifted apart after Hemingway overheard an awkward fight. Likewise, while the final chapter makes mention of his affair and the end of his first marriage, there's a near startling lack of insight into his own flaws and the responsibilities he bore for its ultimate dissolution.
In the end, then, we're left with a complicated portrait. The prose is not great, and certainly not up to Hemingway's normal standard, and the reader learns surprisingly little about Hemingway itself, as he focuses more on those he meets than on himself. I still found it worthwhile, however, and even good, as the anecdotes are wonderful, and as Hemingway's Paris made me miss mine all the more. "There is never any ending to Paris"; it's "always worth it, and you receive[] return for whatever you [bring] into it." That's certainly an impression of Paris with which I agree.
That said, I have to imagine he's minimizing details as well. For example, there clearly feels like there's more to the deterioration with his relationship with Gertrude Stein, but, without looking to outside sources, one would be left with the impression that they just sort of drifted apart after Hemingway overheard an awkward fight. Likewise, while the final chapter makes mention of his affair and the end of his first marriage, there's a near startling lack of insight into his own flaws and the responsibilities he bore for its ultimate dissolution.
In the end, then, we're left with a complicated portrait. The prose is not great, and certainly not up to Hemingway's normal standard, and the reader learns surprisingly little about Hemingway itself, as he focuses more on those he meets than on himself. I still found it worthwhile, however, and even good, as the anecdotes are wonderful, and as Hemingway's Paris made me miss mine all the more. "There is never any ending to Paris"; it's "always worth it, and you receive[] return for whatever you [bring] into it." That's certainly an impression of Paris with which I agree.