Reviews
I enjoyed this book. I know a lot of people don’t like his style of writing and often miss his overall meaning of his stories but this one was my favorite by him.
WTF
Well written book as most of Hemingway's books are but the ending is just so sad! I didn't expect it to turn out well but at the same time I didn't expect it end quite so sadly either.
How unbelievably depressing. Enjoyed the writing style tho
like.. what the hell henry
if this was a lit text the overarching theme would be war and its consequences
This awfully written book had no business ruining me the way it did at the end.
Overall I enjoyed it. Surprisingly more than I expected to. However, some parts felt irrelevant to the overall story, and other parts (especially conversations) felt really repetitive and annoying for no reason. I'm operating under the assumption Hemmingway was paid by the line, because sometimes the conversation was literally two people repeating what the other said over and over for a page and a half.
One I fell into the rhythm of Hemingway's sparse, staccato prose, I was swept away. Only the dialogue brought me back: a tough slog, as if the characters try as much to convince themselves, again in this staccato drumbeat. It inspired me to read more Hemingway, as well as more historical fiction from the early modernists.
This is a tough book to rate. The first few pages seem like they’re written by Ralph Wiggum and then his prose seems to improve quite significantly (he actually finishes sentences?). Then I guess I have to note that this novel is split into 5 ‘books,’ the first three being honestly quite boring to me but the final two being fantastic and captivating. The storytelling was nice but I guess I didn’t care enough about the story? The characters were well defined but I didn’t really care about any other than our primary two? I dunno. The final 30 pages was trauma af and really page turning. That raised this by a star.
I DNF-ed this about 122 pages in. I really wanted to love this book but I was so bored that I kept losing my focus on the book, and ended up reading entire chapters without recalling anything that happened. There were definitely some interesting parts that kept me hooked in for a while, but I just don’t feel any connection to the love story and there’s just not enough happening. But I’m not giving up on Hemingway, his writing style is wonderful and I’m sure he has a book I will love!
I’ve always wanted to read a classic, and Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell To Arms was a good choice. I really enjoyed how a lot of what is written shadows Hemingway’s actual experiences, and classic romance war stories are typically a favorite of mine. However, the book took a while to get into and many things were very abrupt, things that you usually wanted to read more about, especially the ending. I feel that I was expecting more out of it and would have liked to know more, but all in all, it’s a book I would recommend. Although many things were abrupt, Hemingway has a way of making you feel connected to the characters, such as Catherine and Frederic, and the situations presented.
My first Hemingway, and he didn’t disappoint. Clear language, short sentences, female characters of no real interest.
For a while, I had the same Feeling that Bradley Cooper had in "Silver Linings Playbook" when He threw the book out of the window. Though He had his reasons. Ahh I read Hemingway's work for the first time, and I appreciated his unique writing style. Also, It was one of the easy books I've ever read, and yet I didn't fully grasp his point. I don't understand why He wrote Catherine's character this way.? to be honest, I was thinking, whether she is just pretending to be in love. Everything Catherine said sounded fake. By the way, I can't criticize such a literary work. I'm a fan of WW1 and WW2 stories, and this was the only reason this book kept me amused. At this particular moment, I was thinking about the movie 1917. "I looked at carabinieri. They were looking at the newcomers. The others were looking at the colonial. I ducked down, pushed between two men, and ran for the river, my head down. I tripped at the edge and went in with a splash."
"You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering."
Not my favorite Hemingway that I've read, but his use of language still captures me.
I don't know what to say, other than this is one of the best books I've read in a long time.
This is the only Hemingway book I've really liked. I'm not a fan of his writing style, but this is a brilliant book.
Q: Why did the chicken cross the road? Hemingway: It was raining and the rain made little splashes all over the asphalt and the chicken was dead, but no one, after all, mourns a run-over chicken when there's a war going on.
This is the first work of Hemingway's that I have read, and I don't know exactly how to feel about it. My first thought was that Hemingway writes how one would describe a dull landscape painting. His descriptions and dialogue have a complete disconnect and when characters are speaking there is very little "he said, then she said" and it's devoid of the characters descriptions and behaviors while they are communicating. It can make reading the dialogue seem like a checklist, but that may also make it a bit more realistic-the quick quips back and forth. The beauty of historical fiction lies with the author's ability to tell a story, to create. If I wanted to read solely about World War 1 I'd get a nonfiction book. The characters are one dimensional, they fall flat. Catherine is a bit troubled in the beginning, but is then infatuated by love, wanting for nothing more than Lieutenant Henry. She's clingy, insecure, and dense. Not one single becoming quality. Rinaldi is a neurotic flirt (possibly hitting on Henry, but I honestly don't know if I was just making up those vibes); the priest is reserved and easily picked on; and Nurse Ferguson is the petty, resentful best friend of Catherine, annoyed with Henry for taking away the only person in the world who can seem to stomach her. I know this book isn't a classic because of the characters. It is one of the most popular books written about World War 1 and I understand that, but classics can be a bit disappointing in all the other aspects besides the singular one they became known for. Hemingway's writing about the war was easy to follow and seemed honest, yet detached. It was informatively well-done and specific. That being said a lot of his writing is just a description, like a summary, most times it's hard to detect emotions. It all seems very guarded. Maybe I just feel this way because more recent novels and media tend to focus all their energy on high emotions, plot twists, and suspense. I guess historical fiction can only utilize suspense so much because we should know how the events turned out. Hemingway's writing is matter of fact, not necessarily concise though. I had a question about the censoring in this novel. Where there's a curse word it just has a dashed line. Was this common during this period of time or was it a personal choice? All this being said there's still something about his writing that can entrance you. It's calmed and smooth. I'd like to read another one of Hemingway's books because I do think this is a good novel for the historical aspect of it, I just think I need to try another type of story by him.
A lot of rain and a lot of booze. It all hides what the characters are really feeling--and that makes this book powerful. The ending is one of the most impacting ending I've ever read.
Not a bad book, but just not my cup of tea...may need to revisit though since I read this in high school.
A review from my old blog... This book was a great read. All until the end that is. I closed the book and thought "now that's depressing". I won't say what that is because that might spoil the reading. Hemingway wrote with such crisp style, absent of excess sentimentality. I could do without the few curse words sprinkled in throughout the book but other than that this book is definitely a must read for any connoisseur of the classics.
Ok I'm officially depressed Such a strange experience. The whole book is about this soldier who at the beginning talks flatly about almost everything and i assumed it's just because things haven't happened yet. But even when big things happened the tone stayed flat, detached, almost bored. I found that very interesting; was it a result of being in the war and being exposed to trauma that the character had to detach himself from all emotions? Or was it just a writing choice. either way; it made for an interesting reading experience, because you could almost be as "bored" as the main character yet you still can't help but feel drawn to what's happening. the character seemed cynical and i enjoyed seeing it for some reason, maybe it explained the detachment of his narrative. I'm actually surprised i liked this book.
Highlights
‘Let’s drop the war.’
‘It’s very hard. There’s no place to drop it.’
‘Let’s drop it anyway.’
‘All right.’
We looked at each other in the dark. I thought she was very beautiful and I took her hand.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘There isn’t always an explanation for everything.’
“I believe that all the people who stand to profit by a war and who help provoke it should be shot on the first day it starts by accredited representatives of the loyal citizens of their country who will fight it.”
I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity. Cer- tain numbers were the same way and certain dates and these with the names of the places were all you could say and have them mean anything. Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene beside the concrete names of villages, the numbers of roads, the names of rivers, the numbers of regiments and the dates.
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.
If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
You did not love the floor of a flat-car nor guns with canvas jackets and the smell of vaselined metal or a canvas that rain leaked through, although it is very fine under a canvas and pleasant with guns; but you loved some one else whom now you knew was not even to be pretended there; you seeing now very clearly and coldly-not so coldly as clearly and emptily. You saw emptily, lying on your stomach, having been present when one army moved back and another came forward.
I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain. We had heard them, sometimes standing in the rain almost out of earshot, so that only the shouted words came through, and had read them, on proclamations that were slapped up by billposters over other proclamations, now for a long time, and I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity. Certain numbers were the same way and certain dates and these with the names of the places were all you could say and have them mean anything. Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene beside the concrete names of villages, the numbers of roads, the names of rivers, the numbers of regiments and the dates.
"...Darling, why don't you let your hair grow?"
"It's long enough now."
"No, let it grow a little longer and I could cut mine and we'd be just alike only one of us blonde and one of us dark... Then we'd both be alike. Oh, darling, I want you so much I want to be you too."
If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially.
We won't talk about losing. There is enough talk about losing. What has been done this summer cannot have been done in vain.
...life isn't hard to manage when you've nothing to lose.
I'm afraid of the rain because sometimes I see me dead in it... And sometimes I see you dead in it.
"I'll love you always."
"I'll love you in the rain and in the snow and in the hail and-- what else is there?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm sleepy."
Now you see. Underneath we are the same. We are war brothers.
I think you do not know anything about being conquered and so you think it is not bad.
I did not say anything. I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain. We had heard them, sometimes standing in the rain almost out of earshot, so that only the shouted words came through, and had read them, on proclamations that were slapped up by billposters over other proclamations, now for a long time, and I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity. Certain numbers were the same way and certain dates and these with the names of the places were all you could say and have them mean anything. Abstract words such as glory, honour, courage, or hallow were obscene beside the concrete names of villages, the numbers of roads the names of rivers, the numbers of regiments and the dates.