A Farewell to Arms
Ernest Hemingway
What an apt choice for Valentine's Day, eh? I've read this book once before (it was last summer), and I feel just as ambivalent now as I did then, although I feel much less affected by the ending. I think that a lot of the power of this book is taken away on a second reading. Sure, I may have noticed more details, but knowing that the punch in the gut was coming took away any suspense and any real emotion. The reader is left not with a sense of hoplessness, but a sense of inevitability and a lack of fulfillment.
The book seems confused: it is torn between a love story and a war story, two narratives that seem to have hardly anything to do with one another. Perhaps that is the point; it is hard to imagine such a whirlwind love affair in the middle of a war, though it is the war itself that makes it so urgent. The battle scenes are well-described, but lack any overriding sense of emotion. The love scenes show a surplus of emotion, making up for a lack of believability or decent dialogue. The reader has to work hard to remain in touch with the story, and the stoicism of the narrator doesn't help much. Frederic Henry remains two-dimensional throughout the text, though he is the narrator, and Catherine is just annoying. There are hardly any characters to care about, and thus no truly compelling narrative.
The book seems to be an unfortunate juxtaposition of two entirely separate stories, neither of which manage to draw the reader in or make the reader care. Though the book has its high points in certain chapters, and the first time reading the ending is a memorable experience, the overall work just cannot hang together. It is, of course, entirely possible that I am missing some crucial piece of the puzzle, but when all is said and done the story is just the story- it has had no real effect on me the second time around. It is good to have read Hemingway, but I do not think I will revisit this book often.
Grade: B
Ernest Hemingway
What an apt choice for Valentine's Day, eh? I've read this book once before (it was last summer), and I feel just as ambivalent now as I did then, although I feel much less affected by the ending. I think that a lot of the power of this book is taken away on a second reading. Sure, I may have noticed more details, but knowing that the punch in the gut was coming took away any suspense and any real emotion. The reader is left not with a sense of hoplessness, but a sense of inevitability and a lack of fulfillment.
The book seems confused: it is torn between a love story and a war story, two narratives that seem to have hardly anything to do with one another. Perhaps that is the point; it is hard to imagine such a whirlwind love affair in the middle of a war, though it is the war itself that makes it so urgent. The battle scenes are well-described, but lack any overriding sense of emotion. The love scenes show a surplus of emotion, making up for a lack of believability or decent dialogue. The reader has to work hard to remain in touch with the story, and the stoicism of the narrator doesn't help much. Frederic Henry remains two-dimensional throughout the text, though he is the narrator, and Catherine is just annoying. There are hardly any characters to care about, and thus no truly compelling narrative.
The book seems to be an unfortunate juxtaposition of two entirely separate stories, neither of which manage to draw the reader in or make the reader care. Though the book has its high points in certain chapters, and the first time reading the ending is a memorable experience, the overall work just cannot hang together. It is, of course, entirely possible that I am missing some crucial piece of the puzzle, but when all is said and done the story is just the story- it has had no real effect on me the second time around. It is good to have read Hemingway, but I do not think I will revisit this book often.
Grade: B
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