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A review by mghoshlisbin
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
4.25
“Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene beside the concrete names of villages, the numbers of roads, the names of rivers the numbers of regiments, and the dates” (185).
My first foray into Hemingway had been The Old Man and the Sea, which I had immediately fallen in love with. Santiago’s tale of pursuit is rapturous, and his prose sophisticated. A Farewell to Arms was a similarly impressive piece of literature.
I will admit that Hemingway’s tonality and form is unusual—the staccato quality of the sentences and the way he dances around the evocation of emotion can be a hit or a miss, depending on the reader and their preferences. However, in terms of a story set in World War I, such is A Farewell to Arms , I find this style specifically engaging, a perfect choice, for the ways that war creeps itself into our skin, into the pains of civilian life, across the borders of countries. There is no escape from its ravages—on the battlefield, in a hospital, or even within the beds of lovers. Hemingway’s style presents this without the falseness of sentimentality, and I think it brings the novel to more astuteness than most war stories, even some of the most lauded (i.e. All Quiet on the Western Front).
A Farewell to Arms follows American lieutenant Frederick Henry, who is an ambulance driver on the Italian front during the First World War. After he is injured during an explosion, he meets the English Catherine Barkley. Despite the harsh realities of war, Henry’s desertion, and the utter lack of certainty in a time of disaster, they fall in love. Throughout the novel, war infiltrates even their most intimate moments, or perhaps replicates itself there.
Hemingway builds an intriguing argument for the boredom of war as well. As I am new the war literature, perhaps this is a more vetted theme, but it was a fascinating topic for me. Throughout the novel, Henry provides long descriptions of the landscapes, primarily in Italy and Switzerland, which can seem hollow and mundane. Henry uses these as a way to engage himself, not only to distract himself from war, but to simply fill the time. In terms of style, Hemingway has a specific way of lacking sentence variation which inspires the sensation of repetition, boredom, sameness. “He drank a beer,” or “he read the paper”. They’re inherently non-descriptive and repeated over and over again, inspiring a monotony that spreads through Henry as much as it does the reader. Even so, however much Hemingway illustrates the boredom that can come with war, the efficacy of his writing style is sustained in the ways he also includes contrast. The passage in which Henry is injured through the shell explosion is quite graphic, jarringly so. Not only is the gore of the violence disturbing, but Hemingway intersperses the indifference of Henry with moments of true poeticism. “‘They [the soldiers] were beaten to start with. They were beaten when they took them from their farms and put them in the army. That is why the peasant has wisdom, because he is defeated from the start. Put him in power and see how wise he is” (179). The conversations between the priest and Henry throughout earlier sections of the novel are quite illuminating as to Hemingway’s feelings about war, and the consequences of its existence.
“I went out the door and suddenly I felt lonely and empty. I had treated seeing Catherine very lightly, I had gotten somewhat drunk and had nearly forgotten to come but when I could not see her there I was feeling lonely and hollow” (41).
It is arguable that the relationship between Catherine and Henry mirrors the boredoms and intensities of war. This is primarily through the strangely simultaneous lack of commitment and strong devotion that they have for one another. Catherine will flip flop on whether she cares for Henry or wants to see him. Henry will have moments of exceptionally deep devotion, and then immediately after, leave her side for a beer and lunch. Even the initiation of their relationship was somewhat lack luster - in which Henry revealed that he didn’t actually love her, but that their relationship could be some form of casual fun. Despite the fact that Henry abandons war to be with Catherine, he also reminiscences about his comrades while he’s with her. Or perhaps, despite the fact that they constantly talk about getting married, it never comes to fruition, even once Catherine becomes pregnant. Both of them fluctuate constantly. These moments of indifference are juxtaposed with a yearning crucial love - Henry’s litanies of prayers during Catherine’s onslaught of hemorrhages (330) alongside his regular food breaks during her difficult labor, or his complete lack of care for the baby who had died.
Hemingway is well-known for his love of objective realism, and this is just as clear in A Farewell to Arms, as Hemingway himself had been in the Ambulance Corps on the Italian Front. He had also had a relationship with Agnes von Kurowsky, a nurse, to whom his indifference was also somewhat plain. There is not much commentary on their relationship that I can provide, but I find it interesting that Hemingway inserts himself into his own literature. Regardless, this was a lovely re-entry into Hemingway’s literature. I am sure to visit again soon.
My first foray into Hemingway had been The Old Man and the Sea, which I had immediately fallen in love with. Santiago’s tale of pursuit is rapturous, and his prose sophisticated. A Farewell to Arms was a similarly impressive piece of literature.
I will admit that Hemingway’s tonality and form is unusual—the staccato quality of the sentences and the way he dances around the evocation of emotion can be a hit or a miss, depending on the reader and their preferences. However, in terms of a story set in World War I, such is A Farewell to Arms , I find this style specifically engaging, a perfect choice, for the ways that war creeps itself into our skin, into the pains of civilian life, across the borders of countries. There is no escape from its ravages—on the battlefield, in a hospital, or even within the beds of lovers. Hemingway’s style presents this without the falseness of sentimentality, and I think it brings the novel to more astuteness than most war stories, even some of the most lauded (i.e. All Quiet on the Western Front).
A Farewell to Arms follows American lieutenant Frederick Henry, who is an ambulance driver on the Italian front during the First World War. After he is injured during an explosion, he meets the English Catherine Barkley. Despite the harsh realities of war, Henry’s desertion, and the utter lack of certainty in a time of disaster, they fall in love. Throughout the novel, war infiltrates even their most intimate moments, or perhaps replicates itself there.
Hemingway builds an intriguing argument for the boredom of war as well. As I am new the war literature, perhaps this is a more vetted theme, but it was a fascinating topic for me. Throughout the novel, Henry provides long descriptions of the landscapes, primarily in Italy and Switzerland, which can seem hollow and mundane. Henry uses these as a way to engage himself, not only to distract himself from war, but to simply fill the time. In terms of style, Hemingway has a specific way of lacking sentence variation which inspires the sensation of repetition, boredom, sameness. “He drank a beer,” or “he read the paper”. They’re inherently non-descriptive and repeated over and over again, inspiring a monotony that spreads through Henry as much as it does the reader. Even so, however much Hemingway illustrates the boredom that can come with war, the efficacy of his writing style is sustained in the ways he also includes contrast. The passage in which Henry is injured through the shell explosion is quite graphic, jarringly so. Not only is the gore of the violence disturbing, but Hemingway intersperses the indifference of Henry with moments of true poeticism. “‘They [the soldiers] were beaten to start with. They were beaten when they took them from their farms and put them in the army. That is why the peasant has wisdom, because he is defeated from the start. Put him in power and see how wise he is” (179). The conversations between the priest and Henry throughout earlier sections of the novel are quite illuminating as to Hemingway’s feelings about war, and the consequences of its existence.
“I went out the door and suddenly I felt lonely and empty. I had treated seeing Catherine very lightly, I had gotten somewhat drunk and had nearly forgotten to come but when I could not see her there I was feeling lonely and hollow” (41).
It is arguable that the relationship between Catherine and Henry mirrors the boredoms and intensities of war. This is primarily through the strangely simultaneous lack of commitment and strong devotion that they have for one another. Catherine will flip flop on whether she cares for Henry or wants to see him. Henry will have moments of exceptionally deep devotion, and then immediately after, leave her side for a beer and lunch. Even the initiation of their relationship was somewhat lack luster - in which Henry revealed that he didn’t actually love her, but that their relationship could be some form of casual fun. Despite the fact that Henry abandons war to be with Catherine, he also reminiscences about his comrades while he’s with her. Or perhaps, despite the fact that they constantly talk about getting married, it never comes to fruition, even once Catherine becomes pregnant. Both of them fluctuate constantly. These moments of indifference are juxtaposed with a yearning crucial love - Henry’s litanies of prayers during Catherine’s onslaught of hemorrhages (330) alongside his regular food breaks during her difficult labor, or his complete lack of care for the baby who had died.
Hemingway is well-known for his love of objective realism, and this is just as clear in A Farewell to Arms, as Hemingway himself had been in the Ambulance Corps on the Italian Front. He had also had a relationship with Agnes von Kurowsky, a nurse, to whom his indifference was also somewhat plain. There is not much commentary on their relationship that I can provide, but I find it interesting that Hemingway inserts himself into his own literature. Regardless, this was a lovely re-entry into Hemingway’s literature. I am sure to visit again soon.