The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway

Paris in the 1920s; Pernod, parties and expatriate Americans, it’s loose-living on money from home.

Celebrating its 85th birthday this year, The Sun Also Rises - Hemingway’s first published novel – still sits firmly on its pedestal as his finest work. The tightly-written prose for which Hemingway is famous solidified across this tragic story of yearning. I don’t mean tragic in a typified Shakespearian manner, of course; rather, as the story unfolds, we see a hopeless romantic, tormented and all-to-distant from a woman he cannot help but fall for.

Narrated by Jake Barnes - an American journalist – he breathes life into his characters with pages left unsaid, delivering wonderfully interpersonal accounts in a bewildering, enchanting landscape.
So where are we…?
We’re sat on a veranda, sipping Pernod over ice, Jake is musing over his friend Robert Cohn; I recoil at the rampant anti-Semitism this man has endured and nod in admiration as he threw himself into boxing to combat those repressive feelings of inferiority. Cohn’s whimsical tales of bad luck and manipulation somewhat mirror that of our fateful protagonist; a veteran of the First World War, settled in to work as a journalist. Soon we are at a dance club; the streets are playing their tunes. Hemingway puts on a record and we’re strolling down Parisian walkways on a magical night; Barnes is at my side, looking very dapper, a big loveable grin across his face. I am introduced to Lady Brett Ashley, a divorced socialite and the love of Jake’s life – so an aching tragedy begins, and while Ashley’s love for Barnes is strong, her selfishness draws a veil over their relationship.
Time apart leads Jake to Pamplona, Spain, and so we see the real Ernest Hemingway begin to unravel. Barnes immerses himself in a world of drinking, dancing and debauchery; the bullfight takes centre stage during the Fiesta – Hemingway had become fascinated with the bullring; seeing in it the juxtaposition of a cruel beauty against the brutality of war. His sparse prose sends a fantastical scenario spiralling into a stark reality; a brutal reminder of how cruel the world can be – Lady Ashley asking Jake to help her pursue another man. We close the curtain on the pair in the back of a taxi, riding through the Spanish capital, reminiscing of what the wonderful life that could have been. ‘Yes, isn’t it pretty to think so?’
Hindered all too long by well-worn criticism surrounding his lack of description and emotional delicacies, this nonetheless remains a terrific novel, perhaps not a classic, but a fearless commentary on a blemished post-war flapper culture. Hemingway’s writing acts as a foundation on which one’s imagination can construct a diverse cast of characters. Flawed, maybe; memorable, definitely.