A Moveable Feast,
Ernest Hemingway’s memoir of his time in Paris in the 1920s, is nostalgic for
people interested in Paris or literature. Hemingway’s short chapters contain
accounts of daily habits, anecdotes, vignettes, conversations, relationships,
and observations. The edition I read also contains some photos. The book
includes some skiing trips to Austria, too.
A reader of A Moveable
Feast glimpses Gertrude Stein’s hospitality, quirks, and opinions, Ezra Pound’s
kindness and generosity, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s struggles, Sylvia Beach’s (whom
Hemingway’s little son called Silver Beach) bookstore and editing/publishing
roles, James Joyce, Ford Madox Ford, and others from that era. Hemingway also
tells his opinions of these colleagues, and he even shares how the nickname
“the lost generation” really was created. He calls the term an “easy, dirty
label.”
As a Francophile, I of course enjoyed picturing Parisian
cafes and life there in the 1920s. In one story about hunger being good
discipline, Hemingway describes the route he would walk in order to not smell
food he could not afford. While reading A
Moveable Feast, I liked being “in” Paris.
As I writer, I was especially interested in his disciplines.
He often wrote in cafés over a café crème or an eau de vie. I could see how
this venue could inspire his descriptions as he watched the world go by. I
could not see how he could concentrate for hours on end in a café setting. He
jumped over writer’s block by the practice of writing “one true sentence.” Hmmm.
I could try that. He discussed egotism and mental laziness. Good to be aware of
those tendencies and guard against both. When he was writing fiction, he had a
method for tricking his subconscious at the end of a workday and being fresh to
pick up the story the next day. I could try that, too. Famous authors often
advise writers to read a lot, and I do that. In A Moveable Feast, Hemingway from time to time mentions what he is
reading. I wish he had detailed how his readings influenced him as a person or
as a writer. Some of his “camarades de café” such as Evan Shipman, Ezra Pound,
and Sherwood Anderson piqued my curiosity to read their writings.
My favorite line and fervent prayer for all writers was on
page 17 of my edition: “The story was writing itself and I was having a hard
time keeping up with it.”
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