The Sun Also Rises. It was fantastic. Absolutely fabulous. I know that many people my age (my age being 15) would likely say that it was boring and therefore a bad book, but I digress. The book is not boring, and a few key things keep it from being so. One of these is Hemingway’s writing. It was unlike anything I’d read before. His style contains a subtlety that makes it stand out. This may seem oxymoronic, but I can think of no better way to describe it. Hemingway’s words are almost poetic, but not in the way of Faulkner, with rhythm, nor in the way of Fitzgerald’s writing, which is poetic because of its lyrical beauty. Hemingway’s writing is not bombastic, ostentatious, or even long-winded- it is succinct, and is poetic in it’s austerity and clarity. No, it is not ornate. But nor is it plain. What keeps it from being so is his ability to say so much in such a small space. People always say that there is beauty in simplicity, and Hemingway’s writing is a clear example of this. Perhaps the best example I can think of. The characters, too, are interesting, and they beautifully illustrate what we have come to know as “The Lost Generation.” The Sun Also Rises is a moving, heartbreaking novel, and it leaves you with the feeling of a newly-cleansed soul. In Greek tragedy they call this catharsis. But I believe that this type of purification is Hemingway’s alone.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is James Joyce, amazing author and total BAMF. Lookin’ good too, I might add.
