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Modern American Short Story: Ernest Hemingway

Exploring Literary Artistry: Studying the works of James, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Schwartz and Trilling.

Ernest Hemingway: Biography and Works

Ernest Hemingway

  • Born: July 21, 1899 in Oak Park, Illinois, United States
  • Died: July 02, 1961 in Ketchum, Idaho, United States
  • Nationality: American


  • The Torrents of Spring: A Romantic Novel in Honor of the Passing of a Great Race (parody), Scribner, 1926, published with a new introduction by David Garnett, J. Cape, 1964, reprinted, Scribner, 1972.
  • The Sun Also Rises, Scribner, 1926, published with a new introduction by Henry Seidel Canby, Modern Library, 1930, reprinted, Scribner, 1969 (published in England as Fiesta, J. Cape, 1959).
  • A Farewell to Arms, Scribner, 1929, published with new introductions by Ford Madox Ford, Modern Library, 1932, Robert Penn Warren, Scribner, 1949, John C. Schweitzer, Scribner, 1967.
  • To Have and Have Not, Scribner, 1937, J. Cape, 1970.
  • For Whom the Bell Tolls, Scribner, 1940, published with a new introduction by Sinclair Lewis, Princeton University Press, 1942, reprinted, Scribner, 1960.
  • Across the River and Into the Trees, Scribner, 1950, reprinted, Penguin with J. Cape, 1966.
  • The Old Man and the Sea, Scribner 1952.
  • Islands in the Stream, Scribner, 1970.
  • The Garden of Eden, Scribner, 1986.

Short Stories, Except as Indicated


  • in our time (miniature sketches), Three Mountain Press (Paris), 1924 (also see above).
  • Today Is Friday (pamphlet), As Stable Publications (Englewood, NJ), 1926.
  • Death in the Afternoon (nonfiction), Scribner, 1932.
  • God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, House of Books, 1933.
  • Green Hills of Africa (nonfiction), Scribner, 1935, reprinted, Penguin with J. Cape, 1966.
  • The Spanish Earth (commentary and film narration), introduction by Jasper Wood, J. B. Savage (Cleveland, OH), 1938.
  • The Spanish War (monograph), Fact, 1938.
  • (Editor and author of introduction) Men at War: The Best War Stories of All Time (based on a plan by William Kozlenko), Crown, 1942.
  • Voyage to Victory, Crowell-Collier, 1944.
  • The Secret Agent's Badge of Courage, Belmont Books, 1954.
  • Two Christmas Tales, Hart Press, 1959.
  • A Moveable Feast (reminiscences), Scribner, 1964.
  • Collected Poems, Haskell, 1970.
  • The Collected Poems of Ernest Hemingway, Gordon Press, 1972.
  • Ernest Hemingway: Eighty-Eight Poems, Harcourt, 1979.
  • Ernest Hemingway, Selected Letters, 1917-1961, Scribner, 1981.
  • Complete Poems, edited by Nicholas Gerogiannis, University of Nebraska Press, 1983.
  • Hemingway on Writing, Scribner, 1984.
  • The Dangerous Summer (nonfiction), introduction by James A. Michener, Scribner, 1985.
  • Conversations With Ernest Hemingway, University Press of Mississippi, 1986.
Omnibus Volumes
  • The Portable Hemingway (contains The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms, To Have and Have Not, For Whom the Bell Tolls, and short stories), edited by Malcolm Cowley, Viking, 1944.
  • The Essential Hemingway (contains one novel, novel extracts, and twenty- three short stories), J. Cape, 1947, reprinted, 1964.
  • The Hemingway Reader, edited with foreword by Charles Poore, Scribner, 1953.
  • Three Novels: The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms, and The Old Man and the Sea, each with separate introductions by Malcolm Cowley, Robert Penn Warren, and Carlos Baker, respectively, Scribner, 1962.
  • The Wild Years (collection of journalism), edited by Gene Z. Hanrahan, Dell, 1962.
  • By-line, Ernest Hemingway: Selected Articles and Dispatches of Four Decades, edited by William White, Scribner, 1967.
  • Fifth Column and Four Stories of the Spanish Civil War, Scribner, 1969 (also see above).
  • Ernest Hemingway, Cub Reporter: Kansas City Star Stories, edited by Matthew J. Bruccoli, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1970.
  • Ernest Hemingway's Apprenticeship: Oak Park, 1916-1917, edited by Bruccoli, Bruccoli Clark NCR Microcard Editions, 1971.
  • The Enduring Hemingway: An Anthology of a Lifetime in Literature, edited by Charles Scribner, Jr., Scribner, 1974.
  • Dateline--Toronto: Hemingway's Complete Toronto Star Dispatches, edited by White, Scribner, 1985.
  • Hemingway at Oak Park High: The High School Writings of Ernest Hemingway, 1916-1917, Alpine Guild, 1993. Other Works
  • Adaptations: Several of Hemingway's works have been adapted for motion pictures, including A Farewell to Arms, Paramount, 1932, Twentieth-Century Fox, 1957; For Whom the Bell Tolls, Paramount, 1943; To Have and Have Not, Warner, 1945, as The Breaking Point, Warner, 1950, as The Gun Runners, United Artists, 1958; The Killers, Universal-International, 1946, 1964, and as A Man Alone, Republic, 1955; The Macomber Affair, United Artists, 1947; The Snows of Kilimanjaro, Twentieth-Century Fox, 1952; The Sun Also Rises, Twentieth-Century Fox, 1957; and The Old Man and the Sea, Warner Bros., 1958.

Writer, 1917-61. Kansas City Star, Kansas City, MI, cub reporter, 1917-18; ambulance driver for Red Cross Ambulance Corps in Italy, 1918-19; Cooperative Commonwealth, Chicago, IL, writer, 1920-21; Toronto Star, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, covered Greco-Turkish War, 1920, European correspondent, 1921-24; covered Spanish Civil War for North American Newspaper Alliance, 1937-38; war correspondent in China, 1941; war correspondent in Europe, 1944-45.

Pulitzer Prize, 1953, for The Old Man and the Sea; Nobel Prize for Literature, 1954; Award of Merit from American Academy of Arts & Letters, 1954.

A Clean Well-Lighted Place

Since its publication, the quiet tensions of "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place," have haunted readers. More than any other in the collection, the story captures the spiritual angst of Winner Take Nothing (1933), Ernest Hemingway's third story collection. For many readers, it exemplifies the existential plight of modern humanity.

For 60 years, scholars have judged the story pivotal in the Hemingway canon, though they have argued about the degrees of despair and hope that it offers. Shortly before Hemingway's death, the grounds for discussion shifted. Some critics began claiming that the printed version of the story did not make complete sense and that in the extended dialogue between the two waiters, Hemingway had apparently lost track of who was speaking which lines. Following the lead of F. P. Kroeger and William Colburn, John Hagopian argued in 1964 that an "obvious typographical error" occurred and that it should be corrected to provide "order" to Hemingway's masterpiece. In 1965, acting upon Carlos Baker's advice and with Mary Hemingway's concurrence, the publishing company Charles Scribner's Sons made the suggested alteration. By moving one sentence ("You said she cut him down") up one line to make it part of the preceding speech, Scribner's gave readers a text where the dialogue between the two waiters alternated neatly—although the alteration required that some readers rethink the identity of the speaker of the opening lines.

For the past 20 years, most readers coming to the story for the first time read the altered version. Those readers find no footnote identifying the alteration and the possibility for a variant reading. No matter that in 1956 after Judson Jerome brought the issue of the "confused" dialogue to his attention, Hemingway reread the story and said that the published story continued to make sense to him. No matter that no galley exists to prove a printer's error. Because manuscript evidence does not prove the case for the "corrected" version, some scholars have requested that the version Hemingway knew and approved be restored. At the very least, readers should be alerted that they are reading a variant. The publishing history of the story provides a fascinating instance of textual "authority." Not only do words slip, slide, perish (as T. S. Eliot has it), so do texts.

Like many of Hemingway's stories, "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" is brief. Its characters are few, and its external action minimal. In accordance with the early morning hour of the "action," the dialogue is muted, much of it scarcely above a whisper. As its title suggests, the story is concerned with the search for refuge and for transcendent meaning. That should surprise no one. Hemingway's protagonists typically battle the demons of chaos. Images of light and dark pervade his work, and they are certainly in abundance in the stories of Winner Take Nothing. The famous "Our nada" prayer of "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" recalls other prayers and other praying in Hemingway's work.

The story is essentially dramatic in method, similar to such Hemingway works as "ToDay Is Friday" and "Hills Like White Elephants." Authorial presence in the story is minimal, establishing setting and providing a few crucial "stage directions." Two waiters watch an old man who sits outside a cafe in the shadows that the leaves make against the electric light. He's a very old man—an image for pondering the ultimate significance of life in the face of impending death. Although he is deaf, the old man can feel the quietness of the late hour. Hemingway's story is about such nuances, and deciphering nuance quickly becomes the primary challenge to its readers.

The opening line of dialogue and its tag define the challenge: ""Last week he [the old man] tried to commit suicide,' one waiter said." The reader will have to hear more dialogue before deciding which waiter has broken the silence. The story asks that readers listen carefully; in only a few instances will the narrator provide unequivocal identifications for the speaker of lines.

The opening line not only sets up this task for the reader, it foregrounds the religious dimension of the story. Suicide, against the backdrop of Catholic Spain, is not the incidental topic that it seems to be to the speaker of the line. For the orthodox, suicide is the gravest of sins because it results from despair—the condition that denies God's mercy and places the suicide beyond God's mercy.

In the course of dialogue that moves toward monologue and becomes interior monologue, the traditional judgment of suicide seems inadequate. With the older waiter, we not only sense the isolation of the old man, we also cherish his dignity. Sitting up late, looking into the darkness, the old man appreciates a clean, well-lighted place. He longs for order in a universe that seems to provide mainly darkness and chaos. Order lacking or minimal, he behaves as if he knows a sustaining code. When he leaves the cafe, he attempts the difficult feat, "walking unsteadily but with dignity."

Although the old man has not wished to inconvenience anyone, his presence has annoyed the younger waiter, who is eager to close the cafe and to get home to his bed and wife. Much of the story contrasts his impatience, his glibness, his insensitivity with the empathy of the older waiter—the telling contrast evident long before the narrator, usually effaced, charges the young waiter with stupidity. The older waiter pays careful attention not only to what the old man does, but attends carefully to what his companion says. Thus, in the text Hemingway published, it is the young waiter who breaks the silence in the opening dialogue, reporting on the old man's attempted suicide. Attempted suicide is a topic that has more than passing interest for the older waiter—for he knows much about loss and isolation. For him, the explanation "nothing" has a philosophical meaning that his companion cannot grasp. He takes very long views, and he is looking to his own future as he looks at the old man—and as he observes, "He must be eighty years old." Hemingway does not identify the speaker of the line nor the speaker of the line that follows it. But the "sound" of the next line ("Anyway I would say he was eighty") resonates in that same gentle voice—a quiet line, one in marked contrast to the unmistakably impatient line of the young waiter that follows. As sometimes happens in plays and often in life, a character follows his own line. Here the older waiter speaks to himself as much as to the other character. This dramatic device, indeed, opened the memorable exchange: "`He's drunk now,' he said. "He's drunk every night.'" Both of those sentences, in their original publication, are spoken by the impatient, increasingly disgusted younger waiter. They contrast with the meditative "double" speeches on the old man's age. In a story teeming with religious overtones, Hemingway admonishes those with ears to hear.

In the story's concluding episode the older waiter becomes a customer in an all-night bar, though the narrator continues to identify him as "waiter," one of Hemingway's most successful puns. Readers should catch what the barman who serves the waiter misses. In the face of the barman's impatience and incomprehension of his words, the waiter emulates the old man. Politely, with dignity, he walks into the darkness. More than any other characters in Winner Take Nothing, he and the old man exemplify the epigraph Hemingway invented for the book: "Unlike all other forms of lutte or combat the conditions are that the winner shall take nothing; neither his ease, nor his pleasure, nor any notions of glory; nor, if he win far enough, shall there by any reward within himself."

Source Citation
Flora, Joseph M. "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place: Overview." Reference Guide to Short Fiction. Ed. Noelle Watson. Detroit: St. James Press, 1994. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27 Mar. 2011.

The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio

During the party at the end of "The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio," an accordion "inhal[es]" and "exhal[es]" (366). However one might feel about the supposed musicality of human lungs, in a story concerned with inmates in a hospital, with casual injury and inexorable death, the detail seems generally relevant. In fact, the appearance of corporality here--where it shouldn't be--is a pointed reminder, the deflected center of a larger design Hemingway refocuses with, what was for him, an almost unconscionable use of figurative language. Hemingway would be as quick as his character Cayetano Ruiz to disclaim "philosopher" status (366)--as both writer and media celebrity he was a salient figure in a long tradition of American common sense. It is therefore not surprising that when he does touch upon metaphysical speculation the contact is phenomenological. Another metaphor--this one Frazer's self-conscious allusion to people being "operated on" (367)--allows Hemingway entrance into the epiphenomenalism of mind.

Immediately following the accordion (steadily breathing like a patient on the operating table) and those other sounds of the bells, the traps and a (telltale) drum, Hemingway supplies a list of the ward's inmates. The accompanying biographic information ensures their anonymity: "there was a rodeo rider ...," "There was a carpenter ..." and so forth. Oddly, Cayetano appears in this list. A figure who was allowed to speak, to live in dialogue, to assume character status, is reduced to the autopsy of third-person narration. The inmates' biographies are foremost histories of particular--sometimes serious--but generally unremarkable afflictions. There are broken ankles and wrists, a "broken leg" and a "broken back," as if the human body were made of something cheaper than porcelain but no more durable, and "There was Cayetano Ruiz, a small-town gambler with a paralyzed leg" (366). We could easily add other characters to this list--all of them, in fact. The entire story, as far as it is Frazer's story (and it is no more his than anyone else's), moves toward the economy of an epitaph. That central character appears to us without a personal history. He is a writer (we conclude from two references to writing) who has sustained an injury falling off a horse (or so he says), an injury that is not new to him and seems to amount to more than a riding accident, for "Mr. Frazer had been through this all before" (363).

Halfway through the story Frazer's nerves go "bad," a state he views with clinical detachment, for "while he was pleased they lasted that long ... he resented being forced to make the same experiment when he already knew the answer" (363). The chronic sufferer is appropriately a writer, hence a recording consciousness. (Hemingway's aesthetic of literary veracity, telling it "The way it was," is broadly informative here).(1) As if in an out-of-body experience, the mind confronts the stranger of the body, seeming to hover some place above it--watching, making notes--and, in doing so, assumes a marginality belied by its apparent authority. Despite third-person narration, details of Hemingway's story move almost exclusively through the perceptions of Frazer and that character's powers are--in a limiting sense--spectatorial. "It's coming along good now since he spliced the bone," Frazer reports to the detective sergeant who replies with odd sobriety, "Yes, but it's a long time. A long, long time" (357). Behind this comment lurks an implicit and disturbing pun: a patient is one who is patient. If the story reads as if it were about the injury rather than Frazer it is because the life of an affliction is life per se. There is no real past or future for Frazer, just a protracted present, in that existing is itself a continual but futile experiment, a process of being operated on. The identities of patients can be subsumed by the accounts of their injuries, the abstraction of mind left hovering on the periphery like an awkwardly assembled subplot. While details of the story remain as uncommitted as those in a diary, the injury itself ensures resolution. Injury is, in fact, plot.

Upstaged by his own body, dispossessed of autonomy, Frazer is a curiously extraneous character, dependent on Sister Cecilia and his radio as intermediaries between his private room and the larger world of human society. "The Gambler ..." begins with Hemingway's characteristic vantage: "They brought them in around midnight" (355). The nominative pronoun can site but not identify the agents who--to borrow Leslie Fiedler's neologism--"undermind" the Hemingway universe, glimpsed in the instant between a paranoid sense of conspiracy and the fatalistic resignation to it.(2) "They" are, of course, specters of an absent volition personified in syntax, the active voice paradoxically constructed on an unprecedented pronoun. Put in the service of narrative technique, "They" ushers in with the story's very first word the principle of essential disenfranchisement explored at length through the experiential and epistemological foreclosure of the hospital setting, the infantilization effected by the matronly nurse Cecilia, and, above all, the stasis of bedridden patients literally reifying as the story progresses.

Despite his practical limitations, Frazer does attempt to assert a sort of aesthetic control.

   It is really best to be in bed if you are in a hospital; since two views,
with time to observe them, from a room the temperature of which you
control, are much better than any number of views seen for a few minutes
from hot, empty rooms that are waiting for some one else, or just
abandoned, which you are wheeled in and out of. (358)

Frazer's program requires the centralization of the self spatially within the bed, within the private room. The view from a room, like the songs on a radio, acquires importance to the degree that it is unchanging and familiar. The order of the exterior confirms the interior. Frazer would not change the view, "not even by a different angle" (359). An adjustment in angle would reorient spatial relationships, move him from where he should be. (One such movement, by the over-zealous doctor, brings appropriately disastrous results [358]). Frazer finds himself by locating the outer world. He resides at the intersection of the two lines of sight (the "two views" seen through the room's two windows).

The geometry is sustained and we have the sense that it is meant to assume more than dramatic weight when we are given a statement such as the following:

   From the other window, if the bed was turned, you could see the town, with
a little smoke above it, and the Dawson mountains looking like real
mountains with the winter snow on them. (358)

An immediate implication is that the Dawson mountains, being relatively small, only acquire the designation "mountains" circumstantially. The vagueness of the description, however, invites a more impressionistic reading. Realness is a quality that the Dawson mountains only mimic. The language of seeming is applied to the exterior, just as that of being is relegated to the interior. At night, listening to the radio, Frazer's mind wanders. Hemingway documents his nocturnal daydreams. "He had never been in Minneapolis... but he knew what it looked like that early in the morning" (358). Frazer "lived" in Seattle from two o'clock on; while being in no sense actually at that place, he grew "very fond of Seattle, Washington" (363). Just as the reality of the Dawson mountains depends upon Frazer's acceptance of the illusion, the city becomes an experiential quantity only when it is constructed in imagination.

The radio is the aesthetic tool par excellence, able to create out of an absolute economy of material. For Frazer it functions primarily as a sort of time machine, enabling escape from the linear chronology of the hospital: "due to the difference in time, when they signed off at four o'clock in the morning it was five o'clock in the morning in the hospital" (358). Hospital time is the "long, long" duration of suffering, the time that, like the drumbeats of the heart, measures human life in its irrevocable progression toward death. The daytime of the ward, coinciding with the operation of the X-ray machine--which, when used, renders Frazer's radio useless--is dehumanizing. Listening to the radio all night, and so presumably sleeping during the day, Frazer reclaims his autonomy by reordering his circadian rhythm. That this cycle reverses the normal distinction between day and night carries obvious overtones. Frazer's radio experience is, of course, a dream-life--if not literally a dreaming, then a free play of the imagination. It is only in the internal life of the radio experience that descriptive accounts move beyond the "simpler" reality of the hospital (358). It is only in that final interior that Frazer, the figure without any detailed past, truly lives. Frazer was "in Seattle" in the same way the detective sergeant suggests Cayetano could be "in Chicago" (356). The creative geography of nightly meandering is situated in a conceptual "place," a topological center. Physical space converges on mental space; Frazer's private room reduplicates and represents his mind. Given his metonymic bias, Hemingway is as deliberately metaphoric here as he is likely to get, but, then again, this is largely Frazer's design. In Frazer's perception, mental space is almost tangible, and Frazer observes--apparently in a further detachment of vantage--as an idea goes "around the corner" into the "well-lighted part of his mind" (367).

Having established the topological construct and its corresponding axiology (the relatively higher value of interiority, versus the lower of exteriority), Hemingway can use the same figuration to explode Frazer's model of mind. When Cayetano makes a distinction between "real" gambling and his own particular activity, he opens with that adjective a rather large gulf. What can be ordered by the individual, manipulated by "the hands" and "the head," is that which is ultimately un-"real." Cayetano is a gambler who never "really" gambles. He wanders on the outskirts of that real thing, working the towns, but without luck, never getting into the center (365). Frazer is identified as a writer (a word that is never, in fact, assigned to him), and yet, appropriately we realize, within the story that he never ("really") writes. We see him once approaching the activity of writing, but here he is only parodying the lyrics of a popular song, "Betty Co-ed" (359). This in not writing per se, but rewriting, and the discovery of Frazer's marginal method informs his other great creative activity, the radio dreaming. To enter the radio experience is to become a wanderer, to "go farther west" as if in actual motion (358), to work the cities along the airwaves like the itinerant Cayetano working the small towns, to find what is most real in your experience, where you "live" and what you "know," is not your own. Frazer's conceptual life is an exercise in displacement, a living in the interstices of time difference; he hears only the songs that other people ask for (363), and lays claim to experience that he can never fully possess. Even the radio is only "rented" (361). And the private room is only borrowed, destined finally to be abandoned. Death, that final process of dispossession, is hinted at repeatedly, and figured in every detail of the story.

The obsessive concern with sanity points accusingly in a similar direction. Cayetano's sense of order rests on the conviction that a man (his assailant in particular) can be sane, "not crazy" and, accordingly, predictable (356). The thin Mexican echoes this concern when he asks of Cecilia, "Is she a little crazy?" Although Frazer is quick to respond, he doesn't really deal with the question (362). Sanity is for him a touchy subject. He has been through this experiment before; he knows his nerves will eventually give out. When Sister Cecilia tells him the injured Cayetano is "very bad," Frazer reveals his understanding of what "very bad" implies, asking her, "Is he out of his head?" (359). Cayetano later confirms this worst possibility: "I was crazy with it in the belly" (365). Frazer is aware of the ephemerality of selfhood, that once the nerves go (as they do during the course of the story) he will become a different person--which he does, crying when the nurse leaves the room, keeping a stiff upper lip when she's present, manipulating the presentation of self in a way that Cayetano considers un-"healthy" (365). Mental health is predicated

on physical health, selfhood equally bound to the "long, long" time of the hospital. The gulf between "now" and "later" is self-estranging. The man with his nerves intact contemplates the man out of his head with pain; the discoverer of the "real opium" envisions the stranger "in the daylight" for whom this truth makes no sense (367). The perspective is only a "difference in time." But the particular moment one occupies makes all the difference. There is no continuum between successive incarnations; each exists as discretely as a separate being. Identity is perpetually present because the present is perpetual in experience.

Although it is little consolation, Hemingway does suggest one escape from the present-bound self. If life is a process of being "operated on," Frazer wonders why people shouldn't be allowed "anaesthetic." The discussion begun in the presence of the three Mexicans, Frazer resumes alone when he considers the variety of "opiums" of the people, those things they embrace in order to keep their minds off the operation of daily existence: religion, gambling, drink, sex, music and so on (367). In the parlance of French existentialism, these activities constitute "divertissement": they are distractions from the truth of our mortality. By keeping our minds off ourselves, they speed us to our end. Hemingway suggests the darker implications. "Let a little [drink] mount to your head," and "Afterwards comes the headache" (361). The Mexicans may bring--in Frazer's terms--the "opium" of their music, but Cayetano comments, "As musicians they are fatal" (365). The modifier is deliberate. Like rhymes by which to march and lyrics on which to mount revolutions, the Cucaracha has "the sinister lightness and deftness of so many of the tunes men have gone to die to" (367). The song is played for a ward full of sleep-dancers, and the music they take like lethe is a memento mori, "the noise of ... inhalations and exhalations," the beating of a "drum" whose fatality is one with its mortality. For the moment, human corporality can be creatively displaced, transferred to neutral objects, but it cannot truly be escaped. For all people, as for Cayetano, the living-decaying patient whose very smiles reveal "bad teeth" (366), death is at the heart of existence. One can only raise a finger to one's nose in apology for the odor (357). There is no remedy, no true curing in the hospital, only anaesthetic. What is really needed is a good fix--the story's original title was, in fact, "Give Us a Prescription, Doctor"--a dosage strong enough to get us through the operation of life. Frazer suggests as much. There is a "sinister lightness" to his favorite tunes, one of which is even suggestively titled "Little White Lies" (359). He indulges in drink, that "sovereign opium" (367), and he listens to the radio.

Nonetheless, Frazer remains aware while the party progresses, resists from his vantage of consciousness the encroachment of general anesthesia. Such salvage, however, may not in the end represent salvation. Frazer, we are told--like so many other Hemingway characters--usually "avoided thinking" (367)..Whether or not Hemingway himself suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (and its prevalence in his work certainly raises suspicion), in universalizing the affliction, Hemingway suggests that thinking is itself inherently dysfunctional. Thus when Frazer says to Cayetano, "You are a philosopher," the latter responds with a curtness that might double for authorial intrusion, "No.... A gambler of the small towns" (366). The objectivism of Hemingway's fiction is consciously safeguarded, but there is more to this than mannerism. Hemingway resists pat materialism by providing, in order primarily to justify his minimalist aesthetic, a theoretically coherent skepticism of mentalism. Critics have stopped short of using the term behaviorist to describe Hemingway's style, noting that his characters are repeatedly guilty of introspection.(3) But the qualification seems unnecessary and in fact obscures a central distinction. Behaviorism has little to say about introspection if by that term is meant--as these critics intend--a person's awareness of an interior life of experience. What behaviorism does problematize, however, is the means by which such experience might be made public, validated, viewed from outside and what relation it might be said to enjoy with an individual's demonstrative (and so, in principle, empirically verifiable) behavior. Hemingway offers a similar challenge to the notion of introspection as a literal "seeing into," a putative access to a putatively consistent, stable and objective mind.

The prospects for that precious and vital phenomenon, self, are therefore bleak. Because of its variety and vigor, its movement, and not least, we should note, because it provides names of real places we recognize, the radio daydreaming seems more real than the Kafkaesque attenuation of life in the ward. But what might be attributable to authorial license--Hemingway's escape from the dramatic constraints his setting imposes--is in Frazer's case much more suspect. Hemingway follows modernists like Eliot in suggesting that impressionism is an unavoidable technique of description itself, but he nonetheless realizes how incomplete subjectivism is, how dependent experience is on the materials of the outside, those familiar, unchanging conditions, as simple as the particular songs on a radio, or a particular window-view. No aesthetic or conceptual system can ever truly be closed. Hemingway's poetics of space do not observe the distinction Gaston Bachelard finds common to the metaphor, "the sharpness of the dialectics of yes and no, which decides everything" (211). The patient cannot fortify himself in a room against the intrusions of the injuring doctor (the operator embodied), nor even its ethereal, but equally evocative counterpart, the noise people make when they suffer: "every one," we are told, "heard the Russian" (355). And the radio, supplying white-noise more than vox humana, is rendered impotent when "They" begin using the X-ray machine in the morning (359). Mentality is itself extraneous. To live with anaesthetic is in some sense not truly to exist. Drink "mounts to the head," and pushes "you" out. The radio leads you, disincarnate, wandering in a dream world. But unmediated pain is equally disembodying. Pain makes one "crazy." It too drives one "out of [one's] head"--the effacement of self as topological displacement. Hemingway provides no middle ground, no true home for hospital inmates. To live is to exist always on the periphery of the body, to be essentially outside a more fundamental but unapproachable center.

In revising Cartesian duality, Hemingway, like his pragmatist predecessors, privileges body at the cost of mind. The refutation of an "aboriginal self" that began with C. S. Peirce and continued through William James finds its fullest statement, with twentieth-century neuroscience as substantiation, in the theory of mental epiphenomenalism.(4) According to this view, "matter is the real substance of the world and mind a mere byproduct completely subject to matter's motion" (Herbert 24). Before exploding selfhood entirely, Hemingway has Frazer briefly toy with an alternative. Frazer has the impression, if not the detective sergeant's conviction, that mysteries can be "clear[ed] ... up" (356), that the truth can be reached if only he could get to that "well-lighted" part within in his own mind, that ideal center (which, appropriately, he never reaches--"it was not really there of course"). He avoids thinking "except when ... writing" (367), as if writing, as opposed to rewriting (the parody), were a centered activity, and presumably served the same function of catharsis for Frazer that it does for Nick Adams in "Fathers and Sons": "If he wrote it he could get rid of it' (371). Such writing would amount to more than the journal of a patient. It would not be an empty meditation on affliction, nor simply a further symptom. Rather, it would eradicate ailment, and in the same move reconfirm the self as center--driving pain out of the head and putting the self back in, leaving the body hovering around the mind. Frazer suspects that what is needed is a kind of thinking that is incisive, productive, a kind that illuminates. It is Hemingway's final irony--technically and aesthetically his most profound undercut--that Frazer only explores this idea when he is inebriated, already to some degree "out of his head." It is as if consciousness were itself only an opium dream. That best place--literally, the most "clear"--that most distinct center, "the well-lighted part of his mind," has the annoying elusiveness of a mirage. It only appears "after two or more drinks in the evening" (367).

(1) See Carlos Baker's discussion of the literary criterion of lived experience, a discrimination he accepts as Hemingway's artistic manifesto (26-36).

(2) Fiedler of course has a different meaning, using the word throughout Love and Death in the American Novel to describe the resonating archetypes of American literature. I am suggesting, instead, a more basic onto-epistemic ironizing.

(3) Harry Levin, for instance, quibbles over Hemingway's success in executing the behaviorism he intended rather than with the intention itself (77, 81). James T. Farrell makes a similar qualification (56).

(4) Peirce contends "We have no power of Introspection, but all knowledge of the internal world is derived by hypothetical reasoning from our knowledge of external facts" (5: 265). James similarly denies any foundation to selfhood so conceived, repudiating an "aboriginal stuff or quality of being" (4).


Bachelard, Gaston. The Poetics of Space. Trans. Maria Jolas. New York: Orion, 1964.

Baker, Carlos. "The Way It Was." White 26-36.

Farrell, James T. "The Sun Also Rises." White 53-57.

Hemingway, Ernest. The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway. Finca Vigia Edition. New York: Scribner's, 1987.

--. "Fathers and Sons." Complete ... Stories 369-77.

--. "The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio." Complete ... Stories 355-68.

Herbert, Nick. Elemental Mind. New York: Penguin, 1993.

James, William. Essays in Radical Empiricism. 1912. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1976.

Fiedler, Leslie. Love and Death in the American Novel. 1960, 1966. New York: Doubleday, 1992.

Levin, Harry. "Observations on the Style of Ernest Hemingway." Hemingway: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Robert P. Weeks. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice, 1962. 72-85.

Peirce, Charles Sanders. Collected Papers. Eds. C. Hartshorn et al. Vol 5. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1931-58. 8 vols.

White, William, ed. The Merrill Studies in The Sun Also Rises. Columbus: Merrill, 1969.

ADRIAN BOND teaches at the University of Toronto at Mississauga. He has published essays on Hemingway (in Journal of Narrative Technique) and Emerson (in Prospects: An Annual Journal of American Cultural Studies). He has also published short fiction in, among others, The Boston Review and The Quarterly.

Source Citation
Bond, Adrian. "Being Operated On: Hemingway's 'The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio'." Studies in Short Fiction 34.3 (1997): 371. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27 Mar. 2011.

Hemingway: Overview


ERNEST MILLER HEMINGWAY (1899-1961), American Nobel Prize-winning author, was one of the most celebrated and influential literary stylists of the 20th century.

Ernest Hemingway was a legend in his own life-time--in a sense, a legend of his own making. He worked hard at being a composite of all the manly attributes he gave to his fictional heroes--a hard drinker, big-game hunter, fearless soldier, amateur boxer, and bullfight aficionado. Because the man and his fiction often seemed indistinguishable, critics have had difficulty judging his work objectively. His protagonists--virile and laconic--have been extravagantly praised and vehemently denounced. In his obsession with violence and death, the Hemingway creation has been rivaled only by the Byronic myth of the 19th century. Despite sensational publicity and personal invective, Hemingway now ranks among America's great writers. His critical stature rests solidly upon a small body of exceptional writing, distinguished for its stylistic purity, emotional veracity, moral integrity, and dramatic intensity of vision.

Ernest Hemingway was born in Oak Park, Ill., on July 21, 1899. His father was a country physician, who taught his son hunting and fishing; his mother was a religiously puritanical woman, active in church affairs, who led her boy to play the cello and sing in the choir. Hemingway's early years were spent largely in combating the repressive feminine influence of his mother and nurturing the masculine influence of his father. He spent the summers with his family in the woods of northern Michigan, where he often accompanied his father on professional calls. The discovery of his father's apparent cowardice, later depicted in the short story "The Doctor and the Doctor's Wife," and his suicide several years later left the boy with an emotional scar.

Despite the intense pleasure Hemingway derived from outdoor life, and his popularity in high school--where he distinguished himself as a scholar and athlete--he ran away from home twice. However, his first real chance for escape came in 1917, when the United States entered World War I. He volunteered for active service in the infantry but was rejected because of eye trouble.

After spending several months as a reporter for the Kansas City Star, Hemingway enlisted in the Red Cross medical service, driving an ambulance on the Italian front. He was badly wounded in the knee at Fossalta di Piave; yet, still under heavy mortar fire, he carried a wounded man on his back a considerable distance to the aid station. After having over 200 shell fragments removed from his legs and body, Hemingway next enlisted in the Italian infantry, served on the Austrian front until the armistice, and was decorated for bravery by the Italian government.

Learning His Trade

Shortly after the war Hemingway worked as a foreign correspondent in the Near East for the Toronto Star. When he returned to Michigan, he had already decided to commit himself to fiction writing. His excellent journalism and the publication in magazines of several experimental short stories had impressed the well-known author Sherwood Anderson, who, when Hemingway decided to return to Europe, gave him letters of introduction to expatriates Gertrude Stein and Ezra Pound. Hemingway and his bride, Hadley Richardson, journeyed to Paris, where he served his literary apprenticeship under these two prominent authors. Despite the abject poverty in which he and his wife lived, these were the happiest years of Hemingway's life, as well as the most artistically fruitful.

In 1923 Hemingway published his first book, Three Stories and Ten Poems. The poems are insignificant, but the stories give strong indication of his emerging genius. "Out of Season" already contains the psychological tension and moral ambivalence characteristic of his mature work. With In Our Time (1925) Hemingway's years of apprenticeship ended. In this collection of stories, he drew on his experiences while summering in Michigan to depict the initiation into the world of pain and violence of young Nick Adams, a prototype for later Hemingway heroes. The atrocities he had witnessed as a journalist in the Near East became the brief vignettes about intense suffering that formed interchapters for the collection. One story, "Indian Camp," which sets the tone for the entire volume, has Nick accompanying his father, Dr. Adams, on a call during which the physician performs a caesarean operation with no anesthetic. They discover afterward that the squaw's husband, unable to bear his wife's screams, has killed himself by nearly severing his head with a razor. The story is written in Hemingway's characteristically terse, economic prose. "The End of Something" and "The Three Day Blow" deal with Nick's disturbed reaction to the end of a love affair. "The Big Two-hearted River" describes a young man just returned from war and his desperate attempt to prevent mental breakdown.

Major Novels

Hemingway returned to the United States in 1926 with the manuscripts of two novels and several short stories. The Torrents of Spring (1926), a parody of Sherwood Anderson, was written very quickly, largely for the purpose of breaking his contract with Boni and Liveright, who was also Anderson's publisher. That May, Scribner's issued Hemingway's second novel, The Sun Also Rises. This novel, the major statement of the "lost generation," describes a group of expatriate Americans and Englishmen, all of whom have suffered physically and emotionally during the war; their aimless existence vividly expresses the spiritual bankruptcy and moral atrophy of an entire generation. Hemingway's second volume of short stories, Men without Women (1927), contains "The Killers," about a man who refuses to run from gangsters determined to kill him; "The Light of the World," dealing with Nick Adams's premature introduction to the sickening world of prostitution and homosexuality; and "The Undefeated," concerning an aging bullfighter whose courage and dedication constitute a moral victory in the face of physical defeat and death.

In December 1929 A Farewell to Arms was published. This novel tells the story of a tragically terminated love affair between an American soldier and an English nurse, starkly silhouetted against the bleakness of war and a collapsing world order. It contains a philosophical expression of the Hemingway code of stoical endurance in a violent age: "The world breaks everyone," reflects the protagonist, "and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that it will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of those you can be sure that it will kill you too, but there will be no special hurry."

Hemingway revealed his passionate interest in bull-fighting in Death in the Afternoon (1932), a humorous and inventive nonfiction study. In 1933 Scribner's published his final collection of short stories, Winner Take Nothing. This volume, containing his most bitter and disillusioned writing, deals almost exclusively with emotional breakdown, impotence, and homosexuality.

Hemingway's African safari in 1934 provided the material for another nonfiction work, The Green Hills of Africa (1935), as well as two of his finest short stories, "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber" and "The Snows of Kilimanjaro." Both stories concern attainment of self-realization and moral integrity through contact with fear and death.

Hemingway wrote To Have and Have Not (1937) in response to the 1930s depression. The novel, inadequately conceived and poorly executed, deals with a Florida smuggler whose illegal activities and frequent brutalities mask his sense of ethics and strength of character. Mortally wounded by the gangsters with whom he has been dealing, the individualistic hero comes to the startling realization that "One man alone ain't got no--chance."

The chief political catalyst in Hemingway's life was the Spanish Civil War. In 1936 he had returned to Spain as a newspaper reporter and participated in raising funds for the Spanish Republic until the war's end in 1939. In 1937 he collaborated on the documentary film The Spanish Earth. Hemingway's only writing during this period was a play, The Fifth Column (1936; produced in New York in 1940), a sincere but dramatically ineffective attempt to portray the conditions prevailing during the siege of Madrid.

Seventeen months after that war ended, Hemingway completed For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940). His most ambitious novel, it describes an American professor's involvement with a loyalist guerrilla band and his brief, idyllic love affair with a Spanish girl. A vivid, intelligently conceived narrative, it is written in less lyrical and more dramatic prose than his earlier work. Hemingway deliberately avoided having the book used as propaganda, despite its strained attempt at an affirmative resolution, by carefully balancing fascist atrocities with a heartless massacre by a peasant mob.

World War II

Following the critical and popular success of For Whom the Bell Tolls, Hemingway lapsed into a literary silence that lasted a full decade and was largely the result of his strenuous, frequently reckless, activities during World War II. In 1942 as a Collier's correspondent with the 3d Army, he witnessed some of the bloodiest battles in Europe. Although he served in no official capacity, he commanded a personal battalion of over 200 troops and was granted the respect and privileges normally accorded a general. At this time he received the affectionate appellation of "Papa" from his admirers, both military and literary.

In 1944 while in London, Hemingway met and soon married Mary Welsh, a Time reporter. His three previous marriages--to Hadley Richardson, mother of one son; to Pauline Pfeiffer, mother of his second and third sons; and to Martha Gelhorn--had all ended in divorce. Following the war, Hemingway and his wife purchased a home, Finca Vigia, near Havana, Cuba. Hemingway's only literary work was some anecdotal articles for Esquire; the remainder of his time was spent fishing, hunting, battling critics, and providing copy for gossip columnists. In 1950 he ended his literary silence with Across the River and into the Trees , a narrative, flawed by maudlin self-pity, about a retired Army colonel dying of a heart condition in Venice and his dreamy love affair with a pubescent girl.

Last Works

Hemingway's remarkable gift for recovery once again asserted itself in 1952 with the appearance of a novella about an extraordinary battle between a tired old Cuban fisherman and a giant marlin. The Old Man and the Sea, immediately hailed a masterpiece, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. Although lacking the emotional tensions of his longer works, this novella possesses a generosity of spirit and reverence for life which make it an appropriate conclusion for Hemingway's career. In 1954 Hemingway won the Nobel Prize for literature.

Hemingway's rapidly deteriorating physical condition and an increasingly severe psychological disturbance drastically curtailed his literary capabilities in the last years of his life. A nostalgic journey to Africa planned by the author and his wife in 1954 ended in their plane crash over the Belgian Congo. Hemingway suffered severe burns and internal injuries from which he never fully recovered. Additional strain occurred when the revolutionary Cuban government of Fidel Castro forced the Hemingways to leave Finca Vigía. After only a few months in their new home in Ketchum, Idaho, Hemingway was admitted to the Mayo Clinic to be treated for hypertension and emotional depression and was later treated by electroshock therapy. Scornful of an illness which humiliated him physically and impaired his writing, he killed himself with a shotgun on July 2, 1961.

Shortly after Hemingway's death, literary critic Malcolm Cowley and scholar Carlos Baker were entrusted with the task of going through the writer's remaining manuscripts to decide what material might be publishable. The first posthumous work, A Moveable Feast (1964), is an elegiac reminiscence of Hemingway's early years in Paris, containing some fine writing as well as brilliant vignettes of his famous contemporaries. A year later the Atlantic Monthly published a few insignificant short stories and two long, rambling poems. In 1967 William White edited a collection of Hemingway's best journalism under the title By-Line Ernest Hemingway. True at First Light: A Fictional Memoir (1999) provides an account of the author's life in Kenya in the early 1950s. Based on an incomplete manuscript by Hemingway, the work was edited by his son Patrick. A.E. Hotchner, a friend of Hemingway, gave previously unpublished material to the Library of Congress in 1999 that included a typewritten copy of The Dangerous Summer, a book published nearly 25 years after Hemingway's death. It was the first large collection of Hemingway's work to be given to the library.

Further Readings

  • Aldridge, John W., Time to Murder and Create: The Contemporary Novel in Crisis, McKay, 1966.
  • Allen, Walter, The Modern Novel, Dutton, 1964.
  • Astro, Richard and Jackson J. Benson, editors, Hemingway in Our Time,Oregon State University Press, 1974.
  • Baker, Carlos, Hemingway: The Writer as Artist, Princeton University Press, 1956.
  • Baker, Ernest Hemingway: A Life Story, Scribner, 1969.
  • Baker, editor, Ernest Hemingway: Critiques of Four Major Novels, Scribner, 1962.
  • Baldwin, Kenneth H. and David K. Kirby, editors, Individual and Community: Variations on a Theme in American Fiction, Duke University Press, 1975.
  • Baldwin, Marc D., Reading The Sun Also Rises: Hemingway's Political Unconscious, P. Lang (New York City), 1996.
  • Barrett, William, Time of Need: Forms of Imagination in the Twentieth Century, Harper, 1972.
  • Bellavance-Johnson, Marsha, Ernest Hemingway in Idaho: A Guide, Computer Lab., 1997.
  • Benson, Jackson J., editor, The Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway: Critical Essays, Duke University Press, 1975.
  • Bloom, Harold, editor, Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms, Chelsea House (New York City), 1995.
  • Bloom, editor, Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, Chelsea House (New York City, 1995.
  • Bloom, editor, Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, Chelsea House (New York City), 1995.
  • Bruccoli, Matthew J. and C. E. Frazer Clark, Jr., editors, Fitzgerald-Hemingway Annual, Bruccoli Clark Books, 1969-76, Gale, 1977.
  • Bruccoli, Fitzgerald and Hemingway: A Dangerous Friendship, Carroll & Graf (New York City), 1994.
  • Burgess, Anthony, Urgent Copy: Literary Studies, Norton, 1968.
  • Burgess, The Novel Now: A Guide to Contemporary Fiction, Norton, 1967.
  • Burgess, Anthony, Ernest Hemingway and His World, Scribner, 1978.
  • Burrill, William, Hemingway: The Toronto Years, Doubleday (Toronto), 1994.
  • Burwell, Rose Marie, Hemingway: The Postwar Years and the Posthumous Novels, Cambrideg University Press (New York City), 1996.
  • Castillo-Puche, Jose L., Hemingway in Spain, Doubleday, 1974.
  • Comley, Nancy R., Hemingway's Genders: Rereading the Hemingway Text,Yale University Press (New Haven), 1994.
  • Concise Dictionary of American Literary Biography: The Twenties, 1917-1929, Gale, 1989.
  • Contemporary Literary Criticism, Gale, Volume 1, 1973, Volume 3, 1975, Volume 6, 1976, Volume 8, 1978, Volume 13, 1980, Volume 19, 1981, Volume 30, 1984, Volume 34, 1985, Volume 39, 1986, Volume 41, 1987, Volume 44, 1987, Volume 50, 1988.
  • Cowley, Malcolm, A Second Flowering: Works and Days of the Lost Generation,Viking, 1973.
  • de Koster, Katie, Readings on Ernest Hemingway, Greenhaven Press, 1997.
  • Dolan, Marc, Modern Lives: A Cultural Re-Reading of the "Lost Generation,"Purdue University Press (West Lafayette, IN), 1996.
  • Donaldson, Scott, By Force of Will: The Life in Art and Art in the Life of Ernest Hemingway, Viking, 1977.
  • Donaldson, editor, The Cambridge Companion to Hemingway, Cambridge University Press (New York City), 1996.
  • Eby, Carl P., Hemingway's Fetishism: Psychoanalysis and the Mirror of Manhood, State University of New York Press, 1998.
  • Fiedler, Leslie A., Love and Death in the American Novel, Criterion, 1960.
  • Fiedler, Waiting for the End, Stein & Day, 1964.
  • Fleming, Robert E., The Face in the Mirror: Hemingway's Writers, University of Alabama Press (Tuscaloosa), 1994.
  • Frohock, W. M., The Novel of Violence in America, Southern Methodist University Press, 1957.
  • Geisman, Maxwell,American Moderns: From Rebellion to Conformity, Hill & Wang, 1958.
  • Grebstein, Sheldon N., Hemingway's Craft, Southern Illinois University Press, 1973.
  • Griffin, Peter, Along With Youth, Oxford University Press, 1985.
  • Gurko, Leo, Ernest Hemingway and the Pursuit of Heroism, Crowell, 1968.
  • Hardy, Richard E. and John G. Cull, Hemingway: A Psychological Portrait,Banner Books, 1977.
  • Hassan, Ihab,The Dismemberment of Orpheus: Toward a Postmodern Literature,Oxford University Press, 1971.
  • Hemingway, Ernest, A Moveable Feast, Scribner, 1964.
  • Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon, Scribner, 1932.
  • Hemingway, Gregory H., Papa: A Personal Memoir, Houghton, 1976.
  • Hemingway, Leicester, My Brother, Ernest Hemingway, 3rd edition, Pineapple Press (Sarasota, FL), 1996.
  • Hemingway, Mary Welsh, How It Was, Knopf, 1976.
  • Hoffman, Frederick J., The Modern Novel in America, Regnery, revised edition, 1963.
  • Hotchner, A. E., Papa Hemingway: A Personal Memoir, Bantam, 1966.
  • Howe, Irving, A World More Attractive: A View of Modern Literature and Politics, Horizon Press, 1963.
  • Hunter-Gillespie, Connie,Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, illustrated by Richard Fortunato, Research and Education Association (Piscataway, NJ), 1996.
  • Josephs, Allen, For Whom the Bell Tolls: Ernest Hemingway's Undiscovered Country, Macmillan International (New York City), 1994.
  • Kazin, Alfred,Bright Book of Life: American Novelists and Storytellers from Hemingway to Mailer, Little, Brown, 1973.
  • Kennedy, J. Gerald, and Jackson R. Bryer,French Connections: Hemingway and Fitzgerald Abroad, St. Martin's Press, 1998.
  • Leff, Leonard J., Hemingway and His Conspirators: Hollywood Scribners and the Making of American Celebrity Culture, Rowman and Littlefield, 1997.
  • Lynn, Kenneth Schuyler, Hemingway, Harvard University Press (Cambridge), 1995.
  • Madden, David, editor, Tough Guy Writers of the Thirties, Southern Illinois University Press, 1968.
  • Mandel, Miriam B., Reading Hemingway: The Facts in the Fictions, Scarecrow Press (Metuchen, NJ), 1995.
  • McDaniel, Melissa, Ernest Hemingway, Chelsea House (New York City), 1996.
  • Mellow, James R., Hemingway: A Life Without Consequences, Addison-Wesley (Reading, MA), 1994.
  • Monteiro, George, Critical Essays on Ernest Hemingway's Farewell to Arms, Macmillan International (New York City), 1994.
  • Morris, Wright, The Territory Ahead: Critical Interpretations in American Literature, Harcourt, 1958.
  • Nagel, Jems, editor, Critical Essays on Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, G. K. Hall (New York City), 1995.
  • Nagel, editor, Ernest Hemingway: The Oak Park Legacy, University of Alabama Press (Tuscaloosa), 1996.
  • Nahal, Chaman, The Narrative Pattern in Ernest Hemingway's Fiction,Fairleigh Dickinson, 1971.
  • Priestley, J. B., Literature and Western Man, Harper, 1960.
  • Rahv, Philip, The Myth and the Powerhouse, Farrar, Straus, 1965.
  • Reynolds, Michael S., Hemingway's First War: The Making of "A Farewell to Arms," Princeton University Press, 1976.
  • Reynolds, Michael, Hemingway: The American Homecoming, Blackwell Publishers, 1992.
  • Reynolds, Hemingway, Norton, 1997.
  • Reynolds, Hemingway: The 1930s, Norton, 1997.
  • Reynolds, The Young Hemingway, Norton, 1998.
  • Reynolds, Hemingway: The Paris Years, Norton, 1999.
  • Reynolds, Hemingway: the Final Years, Norton, 1999.
  • Reynolds, Picturing Hemingway: A Writer in His Time, Yale University Press, 1999.
  • Reynolds, Hemingway: The Homecoming, Norton, 1999.
  • Rogal, Samuel J., For Whom the Dinner Bell Tolls: The Role and Function of Food and Drink in the Prose of Ernest Hemingway, International Scholars Publications (San Francisco), 1996.
  • Rosen, Kenneth Mark, editor, Hemingway Repossessed, Praeger (Westport, CT), 1994.
  • Rovit, Earl R., Ernest Hemingway, Twayne, 1963.
  • Seward, William, My Friend Ernest Hemingway, A. S. Barnes, 1969.
  • Smith, Paul, ed., New Essays on Hemingway's Short Fiction, Cambridge University Press, 1998.
  • Stephens, Robert O., Hemingway's Nonfiction: The Public Voice, University of North Carolina Press, 1968.
  • Szenes, Dominique, Ernest Hemingway, Park Avenue (Paris), 1994.
  • Tessitore, John, The Hunt and the Feast: A Life of Ernest Hemingway,Franklin Watts (New York City), 1996.
  • Unfried, Sarah P., Man's Place in the Natural Order: A Study of Ernest Hemingway's Major Works, Gordon Press, 1976.
  • Updike, John, Picked-Up Pieces, Knopf, 1975.
  • Von Kurowsky, Agnes, (edited by Henry Serrano Villard and James Nagel), Hemingway in Love and War: The Lost Diary of Agnes von Kurowsky, Hyperion, 1996.
  • Wagner-Martin, Linda, ed., Ernest Hemingway: Seven Decades of Criticism, Michigan State University Press, 1998.
  • Waldhorn, Arthur, Ernest Hemingway, McGraw, 1973.
  • Westbrook, Max, editor, The Modern American Novel: Essays in Criticism,Random House, 1966.
  • Wylder, Delbert E., Hemingway's Heroes, University of New Mexico Press, 1969.
  • Yannuzzi, Della A.,Ernest Hemingway: Writer and Adventurer, Enslow Publishers, 1998.
  • Young, Philip, Ernest Hemingway, University of Minnesota Press, revised edition, 1965.
  • Young, Ernest Hemingway: A Reconsideration, Pennsylvania State University Press, 2nd edition, 1966.
  • American Scholar, summer, 1974.
  • Arizona Quarterly, spring, 1973.
  • Booklist, April 15, 1999, p. 1452.
  • Chicago Tribune, July 17, 1986.
  • Chicago Tribune Book World, October 13, 1985; May 4, 1986; August 24, 1986.
  • Denver Post, July 18, 1999.
  • Detroit News, June 9, 1985.
  • Forbes, September 26, 1994.
  • Georgia Review, summer, 1977.
  • Globe and Mail (Toronto), November 30, 1985; May 31, 1986.
  • Harper's May, 1999, p. 53.
  • Kenyon Review, winter, 1941.
  • Library Journal, May 1, 1999, p. 79; June 15, 1999, p. 113.
  • Los Angeles Times, May 22, 1986; January 25, 1987.
  • Los Angeles Times Book Review, June 23, 1985.
  • Mediterranean Review, spring, 1971.
  • Midwest Quarterly, spring, 1976.
  • Modern Fiction Studies, summer, 1975.
  • Nation, June 14, 1999, p. 24.
  • National Review, November 7, 1994, p. 80; June 28, 1999, p. 50.
  • New Masses, November 5, 1940.
  • Newsweek, May 19, 1986; April 12, 1999, p. 70.
  • New Yorker, May 13, 1950.
  • New York Review of Books, December 30, 1971.
  • New York Times, June 1, 1985; May 21, 1986; July 24, 1989; August 17, 1989; June 22, 1999; July 11, 1999.
  • New York Times Book Review, June 9, 1985; May 18, 1986.
  • New York Times Magazine, August 18, 1985.
  • Observer, February 8, 1987.
  • Publishers Weekly, January 11, 1985; May 10, 1999, p. 53.
  • Southwest Review, winter, 1976.
  • Time, May 26, 1986; July 5, 1999, p. 76+.
  • Times (London), July 18, 1985; August 1, 1986; February 12, 1989.
  • Washington Post, July 29, 1987.
  • Washington Post Book World, June 30, 1985; November 3, 1985; June 1, 1986.
  • Yale Review, spring, 1969.

Source Citations:

"Ernest (Miller) Hemingway." Contemporary Authors Online. Detroit: Gale, 2005. Gale Biography In Context. Web. 27 Mar. 2011.
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 "Ernest Miller Hemingway." Encyclopedia of World Biography. Detroit: Gale, 1998. Gale Biography In Context. Web. 22 Mar. 2011.

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