The dialogue below is something you might expect from the very best of a Woody Allen or Larry David script yet Hemingway did it in the 1920s.
Following on from last week’s reflections on Ernest Hemingway’s short declarative sentences and prose we continue our exploration of what his biographer Jeffrey Meyers described “Hemingway’s greatest work” – The Sun Also Rises.
Ernest Hemingway lived in Paris in the 1920’s and worked as a Foreign Correspondent for the Toronto Star. He used his journalism experience to write about fiction, but his stories in The Sun Also Rises are based on real events and real characters, specifically his fellow American and English expatriates (see image inset). The book portrays these characters traveling from Paris to Spain to watch the running of the bulls. He had intended to write a non-fiction book about bullfighting, but instead decided the week’s experiences he shared with his friends on vacation presented him with sufficient material to write a novel. He began writing his novel on his birthday 21st of July— 1925, and finished the draft manuscript two months later.
The dialogue below I found particularly shrewd, yet entertaining. Robert Cohn (who was dissected in last week’s excerpt by Hemingway’s alter ego Jake Barnes in the first few pages) is taken aback by the charm and beauty of Lady Brett Ashley. Cohn begins probing the protagonist Jake Barnes to know the ins and outs of this ‘Lady’ he has fallen for. The tension between them is palpable because Lady Ashley had just earlier told Jake she loves him, but they both know that they have no chance at a stable relationship.
“What do you know about Lady Brett Ashley, Jake?”
“Her name’s Lady Ashley. Brett’s her own name. She’s a nice girl,” I said. “She’s getting a divorce and she’s going to marry Mike Campbell. He’s over in Scotland now. Why?”
“She’s a remarkably attractive woman.”
“There’s a certain quality about her, a certain fineness. She seems to be absolutely fine and straight.”
“She’s very nice.”
“I don’t know how to describe the quality,” Cohn said. “I suppose it’s breeding.”
“You sound as though you liked her pretty well.”
“I do. I shouldn’t wonder if I were in love with her.”
“She’s a drunk,” I said. “She’s in love with Mike Campbell, and she’s going to marry him. He’s going to be rich as hell some day.”
“I don’t believe she’ll ever marry him.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t believe it. Have you known her a long time?”
“Yes,” I said. “She was a V. A. D. in a hospital I was in during the war.”
“She must have been just a kid then.”
“She’s thirty-four now.”
“When did she marry Ashley?”
“During the war. Her own true love had just kicked off with the dysentery.”
“You talk sort of bitter.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to give you the facts.”
“I don’t believe she would marry anybody she didn’t love.”
“Well,” I said. “She’s done it twice.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well,” I said, “don’t ask me a lot of fool questions if you don’t like the answers.”
“I didn’t ask you that.”
“You asked me what I knew about Brett Ashley.”
“I didn’t ask you to insult her.”
“Oh, go to hell.”
He stood up from the table his face white, and stood there white and angry behind the little plates of hors d’oeuvres.
“Sit down,” I said. “Don’t be a fool.”
“You’ve got to take that back.”
“Oh, cut out the prep-school stuff.”
“Take it back.”
“Sure. Anything. I never heard of Brett Ashley. How’s that?
“No. Not that. About me going to hell.”
“Oh, don’t go to hell,” I said. “Stick around. We’re just starting lunch.”
Cohn smiled again and sat down. He seemed glad to sit down. What the hell would he have done if he hadn’t sat down? “You say such damned insulting things, Jake.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got a nasty tongue. I never mean it when I say nasty things.”
“I know it,” Cohn said. “You’re really about the best friend I have, Jake.”
God help you, I thought. “Forget what I said,” I said out loud. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’s fine. I was just sore for a minute.”
“Good. Let’s get something else to eat.”
After we finished the lunch we walked up to the Café de la Paix and had coffee. I could feel Cohn wanted to bring up Brett again, but I held him off it.
You are right, smiles! I was never a big Hemingway fan, great post.
Thank you very much.
my pleasure, enjoyed!
I can see how he would not be everyone’s cup of tea. I’m so glad you liked it. That dialogue just keeps getting funnier the more I read it. Lol
I know lol. I do like to visit his home in Key West when I can. 🙂
His home? Nice. Have they turned it into a visiting centre?
Yes, it is open to the public. It’s quite fascinating as it has been restored to the original state, his desk and typewriter still on a desk by a shuttered window facing Duval Street. The descendants of his 6 toed cats still roam the grounds.
Oh my gosh, it sounds marvellous. Oh how I would love to see it including the descendants of his six toed cats lol. It must feel surreal the whole experience, seeing it as it was. Thank you for sharing that.
Very surreal and rather haunting. It is fun and most interesting!
I can almost picture it based on your vivid descriptions. Cheers
It was entertaining… I like the ““Sure. Anything. I never heard of Brett Ashley. How’s that?”…I’ve reached that place a few times.
Seeing that picture of them in Spain reminds me of the Algonquin Round Table in New York around the same time.
I’ve read the dialogue about 20 times and it gets funnier each time. There are just so many great lines in it. It really does remind me of something you might find in Woody Allen movie. Actually I copied an excerpt from a script from Allen’s ‘Manhattan’ and the dialogue between him and Keaton just so sassy and witty like this one.
I’m unfamiliar of that round table in NY. I’ll look it up.
It is true to life also…it was like listening to a funny conversation….
Many writers would meet at teh Aloguin Hotel and the conversation supposedly sparkled. A lot of great writers were there…men and women… Dorthy Parker was one member…
Some things haven’t changed even since the 1920s.
I wasn’t familiar with the Aloguin Hotel, but I’m sure at various points they got up to no good like the writers of the ‘lost generation’ in Paris. Burp!…
Yep there was a connection with the lost generation… The insults were hurled… a quote from Groucho Marx about the meetings… “The price of admission is a serpent’s tongue and a half-concealed stiletto.”
That Groucho quote leaves a lot to the imagination doesn’t it? I mean that’s a pretty big Mozza ball hanging out there lol He was the king of one-liners it would seem.
It really DOES sound like the back-and-forth from a Woody Allen film. It’s snappy and engaging and VERY funny. I’d be just as exasperated as Jake, though, with Cohn. He seems emotionally unstable. Isn’t “Go to hell” just an expression?! Maybe back then it was seen/taken differently. But, jeez, dude, chillax……….!
I’m glad you agree with me on that Woodyesque dialogue.
Some women have that affect on certain men, where the men convert into little puppies. lol
Cohn is a pain in the rump throughout although all the men are besotted with her. She’s a go-getter and enjoys the attention no doubt. It’s interesting that Cohn acts so lame considering he’s a boxer. Don’t worry Cohn just doesn’t go quietly into the night with his tail limp between his legs. Haha