The life of Ernest Hemingway is currently my favorite
obsession. I was initially concerned that a personal memoir relating to
Hemingway would be biased beyond use. Inherently, memoirs are biased. (Or I
should say, inherently, people are biased. Authors of any subject cannot
refrain from some bias, but in a memoir we encourage it.) On the contrary,
Valerie Hemingway’s recollection of Ernest and Mary Hemingway and their
“cuadrilla’ of friends is full of new information from a valuable perspective.
I remain somewhat wary of her assessment of Ernest’s youngest
son, Gregory, who was her husband for over a decade. Based on the amount of abuse
that she suffered from him, it must be taken with at least one single grain of
salt; although as someone who is accustomed to thriving in the most unusual
circumstances, Valerie has demonstrated strength and a will of reason that
exceeds that of most people.
Having recently been to the Basque country in Spain (and
France), I was delighted to read about her adventures in Spain with the
Hemingways. Her insight into personal moments, without verging on the point of
betrayal, were tremendously revealing. I could not think of a more accurate
title for a book.
I was especially engrossed in the work of Valerie and Mary,
Hemingway’s widow, when selecting works and items from the Finca Vigia in Cuba
to take with them as they prepared to leave the house forever. This process had
been a mystery to me and Valerie was one of two people with access to this
information. (I’m not sure if Mary touches on this as well in her
autobiography, How It Was, as I have
yet to read it. But it is waiting on the shelf!) Their choice of selections has
shaped some of Hemingway’s legacy, especially in regards to his later works and
insight into some of his personal relationships. Equally interesting to learn
about was the political climate that was present while the Hemingway possessions
were subjected to the tense relationship between the U.S. and Cuba in the early
1960’s. Arrangements had to be made with both Fidel Castro and JFK due to the
embargo and travel restrictions for U.S. citizens. Mary remained grateful for
JFK’s assistance and chose his presidential library to house the largest collection
of Hemingway papers.
The author of Hemingway’s
Boat, Paul Hendrickson, acknowledged
the use of Valerie’s memoir and knowledge in his work but I was surprised to
find out just how far-reaching his use of her insight went. Just as she was
privy to many sensitive moments in Ernest and Mary’s lives, she was privy to a
large portion of Gregory Hemingway’s complicated life. Valerie stood by all of
the Hemingways with a generous amount of acceptance, even if she didn’t always
understand their actions.
The scenes and friendship that Valerie became privy to was
amazing to me. Valerie touched so many aspects of Hemingway life that I could
barely stop reading her recollections. Valerie’s memoir is a remarkable
viewpoint of a person who at first glance appears to be a background player,
but was such an important person to so many Hemingways. Despite the famous
family name, I hope and believe that Valerie has stayed true to her ethics of
privacy in regards to the Hemingway family, which she and her children are a
part of. Her insights into Hemingway life are not to be missed.
Below are some of my favorite passages. (My original list was more than twice as long. There are lots of gems in this book.)
Pages numbers are from the iBooks version. My review is also on Amazon.
“When he liked someone, he became blind to their faults.” p.
94
“Couples learn to roll with the waves as well as create
waves when the sea is smooth.” p. 115
“I often thought in the hours I spent listening to him that he
liked to make statements more for effect than for accuracy. He didn’t say what
he really thought. In conversation with literary figures or people was not well
acquainted with, he was a provocateur. “ p. 120
“His only quarrel with the Catholic Church was that he
believed animals have souls, and if he was to be damned for that, then so be
it. As far as he was concerned, his Black Dog was up there in heaven with all
the faithful; if he wasn’t, it was not a place Ernest wanted to be. I never
knew to what extent he was being serious when he made remarks like that, but I
think at the time for him it was the truest statement he ever made.” p. 146
“A grudge was jealously guarded, and loyalty in friendship
was demanded. He had the most inquiring mind of anyone I’ve ever met. “ p. 150
“Only with his absence could I appreciate the intensity of
his presence.” p. 180
“The ironies of life, where opportunities present themselves
in the wrong sequence.” p. 185
“Ernest told me that if he had not been a writer, he would
have liked to have become a painter, and that his objective as a writer was to
invent with words a world as real and innovative as that a painter conjured up
with his brush.” p. 271
“Ketchum lay a scant mile and a half away. Once a mining
town, it was now the center of the high country sheep ranging industry and a
major origin point for shipment to market by rail. Many Basques has moved
there, drawn to the sheep country. For Ernest, it was reminiscent of his
beloved Pamplona.” p. 429
“Ernest told me that journalism was a great teacher for a novelist. While
practicing it he learned to observe accurately, to state “the true gen” and
express it with the shortest, most direct sentence. In his early days as a
foreign correspondent, this last was absolute necessity for sending dispatches
by cable, where every word must count and ambivalence was detrimental to the
sense and accuracy of the story. In reading through his papers, I saw that he
followed these same principles all his life.” p. 450
“I can’t be a godmother because I don’t believe in God.”
–Martha Gellhorn p. 534
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