On the short list of people I would consider personal heroes of my father the following four I can assure would make the cut; Jesus, Abraham Lincoln, FDR, and Ernest Hemingway. So, I thought I would give a Hemingway classic a reading. I went into this with some pretty high expectations, but I have to be honest and admit that I didn't see what the big deal was. Hear me out, I am in no way saying that this book isn't a classic, or even a masterfully written piece of American literature, but nothing in the story resonated with me. I can't explain why it was so detached from anything I identify with but I had a very hard time engaging in the story. I suppose there is a generational gap, but it was more than that. I wouldn't say that I liked, or identified with any of the characters, I even disliked most of them. I felt pity for most of them, not sympathy, but genuine "I wish there was more substance to their lives than drinking and bullfights." To me this was a dismal tale of a few overly privileged, disenfranchised, American and British ex-patriots complaining about life, but doing nothing to change it. I'm sure it was me, I don't claim to be a literary expert, and I often struggle with fiction, so if anyone has something to share please do. I want to understand. I feel like a bad American.
One last thing, as you can see on the cover image there is a picture of a bullfight. So I was under the impression that the book was centered around bullfighting. It takes almost half of the book before you meet a bull, and I wouldn't consider the story a bullfighting tale. I don't know why this matters but I felt a little deceived. The cover should have been a picture of people drinking a lot.
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