Expatriate lifestyle as tourist destination: The Sun Also Rises and experiential travelogues of the twenties.
Ernest cared far less than I about aesthetics. What he cared about was the action and the emotional body of the traveler. He was a born traveler as he was a born novelist.
What was the value of travel if it were not this--to discover all romance is not bound between the covers of novels?
--Robert F. Wilson, Paris on Parade
WHEN THE SUN ALSO RISES was published in 1926, F. Scott Fitzgerald famously dubbed Ernest Hemingway's novel "a romance and a guidebook" (Aldridge 123). The novel was celebrated as a roman a clef that depicted an actual segment of Parisian expatriate society. By the time Hemingway began The Sun Also Rises, he was already a fixture in the Parisian expatriate literary community, and had garnered mention in Robert Forrest Wilson's 1924 guidebook Paris on Parade. Hemingway was reputedly disdainful
of tourists, yet the novel's repetition of place names is organized into itineraries similar to those of travel guides contemporaneous to the novel. While not explicitly a guidebook, The Sun Also Rises can be considered as part of the tradition of travelogues such as Pages from the Book of Paris, Paris with the Lid Lifted, How to be Happy in Paris (without being ruined), and Paris on Parade that offer experiential guides to a lifestyle, rather than to monuments or museums. With lake Barnes's emphasis on his environment and recurrent references to the streets, bars, and cafes frequented by his expatriate companions, Hemingway contributes to a body of travel literature describing the places that constitute the geography of the infamous expatriate lifestyle. While A Moveable Feast presents a Paris of memory and nostalgia for Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises is a fictionalized depiction of the Left Bank that should be read against the contemporaneous travelogues promoting the quartier as a stylish destination; the expatriate artist lifestyle becomes a tourist experience as Hemingway depicts the fictional movements in The Sun Also Rises as experiential travelogue. (1)
In Search of Experience: "Gay Paree" Travelogues of the Twenties
In Paris on Parade, published in 1924, Robert Forrest Wilson presents a guidebook to Paris in the form of an expose uncovering the lifestyle of the Americans who constitute a significant presence in the city: "only ten thousand of us; but, my, what a noise we make! How important we are to Paris!" (274). (2) Wilson is not interested in promoting an authentic French experience. Instead, he guides his reader through the "American village" of the Latin Quarter and Montparnasse on Paris's Left Bank. He writes, "Gay Paree, indeed, can scarcely be regarded as a French institution at all. It is a polyglot thing existing upon French tolerance, the gaiety being contributed largely by the guests" (Wilson 279). The legend of "Gay Paree"--drinking, dancing, and other behavior unencumbered by puritan values lured tourists who were more enamored with the lifestyle on display than with the monuments speckling the city.
Wilson devotes a chapter to the newly extended Latin Quarter (reaching, to Montparnasse), an area "that has emerged from the war, a Parisian district which (so far as its American citizenry is concerned) has for its focus, community center, club and town-hall the Cafe du Dome" (194). Wilson explains that the area is defined by the "American influence" of its large expatriate artist community (196):
The new Latin Quarter is completely centralized around one spot--the corner of the Boulevards Raspail and Montparnasse. Here stand the Cafe du Dome and the Cafe Rotonde; and you can no more know the present Latin Quarter without knowing these two cafes than you can know an Ohio county-seat without knowing its public square and court-house. They are half its life. (209-10)
The expatriates, Wilson explains, frequent only a few of the area cafes: "At the Raspail-Montparnasse corner "on a summer evening, for instance, those two chief artists' cafes of the new Quarter, the Dome and the Rotonde, will be jammed to the last chair inside and out, with dozens standing on the sidewalks waiting for places" (206). This is a Paris created by its American inhabitants and defined by main boulevards, particular cafes, and the mores of the expatriates. The result is a cosmopolitan American city unhindered by the restrictions of Prohibition.
Wilson encourages his readers to seek out "one of the last few genuine American barrooms remaining on earth" (113). Writing to an American audience, Wilson acknowledges that in Paris "Prohibition is three thousand miles away," yet "these law-abiding pages will afford no clue to the location of this exiled place beyond assertions that it is in plain sight from the entrance to Ciro's restaurant and that its owner's name is Harry" (113-4). (3) Wilson points to Harry's Bar, but guides his reader to engage in "a Parisian thing," to order aperitifs at a cafe off the tourist path (114). (4) After all, as the Gallic proverb Professes, "the French cock is a wine-drinking cock" (168). Wilson's guide to Left Bank lifestyle was one of many such volumes published in the 1920s and purporting to provide the reader with an insider's view of "Gay Paree."
In 1927, Bruce Reynolds published a travel guide to Paris that he promoted as a "Travel Cocktail" that would guide the reader to the "frolic" of "those raging, rousing, rapturous Nights in Peppy Paree." In Paris with the Lid Lifted, Reynolds forgoes the tour-book synopses of the city's museums, cathedrals, and historic sites and writes a "joy-ride" covering bars, dance halls, restaurants, race tracks, balls, and "the naughty places," accompanied with. pen and ink illustrations of gentlemen in top hats leering through monocles at scantily dressed flappers (4). Reynolds's book is a guide to experience as destination; he outlines the steps the reader must follow to partake in the lifestyle specific to expatriate Paris and promises that his reader will be "richer in memory and experience" even if poorer in funds (224). After imploring the reader to forget about a budget vacation, the introduction ends with the enticement, "If you are one of us--come along":
But remember, this trip is not for Goody-goods, or crepe-hangers, or hard-shells, or nose-tossers. This will be a chummy, clubby party. Very, very select. We must all understand each other; all be great friends and all enter into the spirit of the party, with a snap. We must be alert, a-sparkle, a-tingle, alive. (5) (Reynolds 7)
He includes timetables that cover each aspect of the tourist's visit for fifteen days. Each element in the timetable is cross-referenced with an entry in the guidebook elaborating on the listed cafe, outing, or licentious behavior. The timetables reveal a penchant for the expatriate itinerary, leading the traveler to haunts such as Harry's Bar, the Ritz, Zelli's, and the New York Times office. Reynolds's guide is ironic and tongue-in-cheek, complete with "alibis for the wife, if you couldn't leave her at home," a list of hangover cures for fifteen days of bingeing (cures include "castor oil" such as the Louvre, Arc de Triomphe, and Notre-Dame de Paris, because after all, "'nice' places do exist in Paris"). He concludes with a French-English glossary for terms useful when dealing with tailors or chauffeurs, or when in the pursuit of young French women (228). Like Reynolds, Wilson mentions the monumental sights of Paris only in the last chapter of his guide, reserved for the "gentle tourist": "Though the patient reader of these pages may long since have despaired of finding any reference to them, there are, after all, sights to be seen in Paris" (336). Dispensing with iconic monuments as mere footnotes to the main attraction, these guidebooks serve as guides to the party lifestyle of the expatriate community. Though humorous, they are also detailed and resonant with Hemingway's depictions of the same environment in A Moveable Feast and The Sun Also Rises.
In Paris on Parade, Wilson reserves a chapter for "the bookshop crowd," referring to the writers and literary enthusiasts who frequent Sylvia Beach's famous Shakespeare and Company. Wilson identifies James Joyce as the "supreme modern master of English" in the eyes of the bookshop crowd, but he mentions "the outstanding personages of this interlocking directorate of the Continental advance movement in English letters" and names Robert McAlmon, Ford Madox Ford, Bill Bird, George Antheil, Ezra Pound, and Hemingway (244). (6) A favorite subject of Wilson's guide, Hemingway reputedly "mingles democratically with the artist-writer crowd at the Cafe du Dome" (248). Wilson writes on the up-and-coming young writer:
Mr. Bird has published a book by Ernest Hemingway and so has Mr. McAlmon. This fact and the further one that he is intimate with the bookshop circle seem to mark Mr. Hemingway for Young Intellectualism's own, but there are indications that his sojourn is to be only temporary. In other words, his work promises to remove him from the three-hundred-copy class of authorship.... He has recently finished a novel which is said to break new ground. (248)
This novel was not The Sun Also Rises, the first draft of which was written between July and September 1925 and published in October 1926. (7) Wilson is mort likely referring to the thirty-page long in our time, completed in May 1923 and published in Paris by Bill Bird in April 1924 (Brenner 731-3). However, Hemingway fulfilled Wilson's prophecy with The Sun Also Rises, a novel that depicts travel as the permanent state of its expatriate protagonists.
Jake Barnes as Tour Guide to Hemingway's "Paris"
Hemingway's novel, with lake's detailed itineraries, is indebted to the travelogues that represent the lifestyle of the "dilettantish Americans" that Hemingway held in contempt (Lynn 160). (8) Yet the culture of drinking that Hemingway portrays in The Sun Also Rises is mirrored in the guidebooks as a major emphasis and the travelogues are strikingly resonant with Jake's repeated itineraries and references to the lifestyle of the expatriate community, including the importance of cafes and bars such as the Dome, Select, Closerie des Lilas, Deux Magots, Zelli's, Cafe Napolitain, The Crillon, and The Ritz. (9)
The sequencing of items on the travelogue itineraries reads like a schedule of visits with a specific order and timeline, a continuous chronology requiring discipline to follow (Atherton 205). For Jake the former war pilot and Hemingway the former ambulance driver, dividing the day into spatially oriented tasks might be instinctual. Likewise, their shared discipline of journalism might serve as an organizational flame where experience must be accomplished and transformed into text within a deadline. Yet this way of organizing time is also a product of the tour guide function that both lake and Hemingway share (Atherton 20l). John Aldridge writes that the expatriate writers of the 1920s were like "proxy writers" whose work depicted the lifestyle they enjoyed that was inimitable in America (110). The belief in "the interdependence of art and experience" that Aldridge uses to define Hemingway and other expatriate writers points to the importance of experience as a literary trope highlighted by Jake's experiential recounting of daily routine (111).
Aldridge's synopsis of the mythic legacy left by the writers of the 1920s sounds like the touristic myth of Paris itself: "our view of the literary life of the twenties is a complex mixture of myth and reality, of reality fantasized into myth and myth personified to the point where it seems like something we ourselves experienced" (112). He credits Hemingway with mythologizing his experience while still in the midst of it (Aldridge 113). Yet the experience Hemingway depicts had already been mythologized by the travelogues. Tourism created the myth, but it was fed by its reiteration in fiction and legend; the emphasis of that generation on their own experiences, specifically of youth, created repeated literary explorations of the rite de passage (Aldridge 118). Hemingway literalizes rites of passage with Jake who wanders through Paris delineating points on an itinerary marking sites of experience, a geography of memory.
In chapter four, after leaving Brett with the Count, Jake describes his walk home: "I went out onto the sidewalk and walked down towards the Boulevard St. Michel, passed the tables of the Rotonde, still crowded, looked across the street at the Dome, its tables running out to the edge of the pavement" (37). His path is defined by the cafes that align the boulevard and the activity still going on within them. In the morning, marked by the start of chapter five, Jake describes walking to work and passing tourists engrossed in street performances. In contrast to the stationary tourists, Jake is among the crowds of people going to work. Implicitly aligning himself with the bustling Parisians, he remarks "It felt pleasant to be going to work" (43). Jake's methodical recounting of street names, cafes, and quartiers underscores his status as an etranger. Yet he is comfortably cosmopolitan in his "home town" of Paris and distinguishes himself from the tourists he passes (Griffin 173). Jake's walk to work recalls Claude Washburn's 1910 personal memoir/guidebook Pages from the Book of Paris. which juxtaposes "Americans with guide-books" who serve to "heighten one's sense of the city's emptiness" and working Parisians, sequestered in their bureaux (159).
Yet for all of Jake's specificity, his Paris is not that of Hemingway. Hemingway constructs another Paris distilled from his own experience. Hemingway's "Paris" is an amalgam of brand names, recognizable by their accents and familiarity (Cafe Select, Cafe Napolitain, Montparnasse, The Ritz). In this respect, The Sun Also Rises shares with the guidebooks the notion that such names can be code for certain social mores. Hemingway's Paris also reflects his fictional style, defined by Aldridge as "not a realistic reflection of a world but the literal manufacture of a world, piece by piece, out of the most meticulously chosen and crafted materials" (123). Hemingway manufactures an environment for his characters based on actual places, but those places become mere points on a decontextualized itinerary, creating a guidebook Paris without an overview map. (10)
Describing an itinerary through the city, Jake's narration takes on the tone of a travelogue: "The Boulevard Raspail always made dull riding" (48). He also reflects the prejudices of the travel writers for certain cafes: "The taxi stopped in front of the Rotonde. No matter what cafe in Montparnasse you ask a taxi-driver to bring you to from the right bank of the river, they will always take you to the Rotonde" (49). Jake walks "past the sad tables of the Rotonde" and chooses the Select (49). In his guide to Paris, Wilson notes that the Rotonde (identified as a Russo-Scandinavian haunt) is a large, well-lit cafe with orchestra and nightly dancing and is "more pretentious in every way" than the Dome, but it is a newer cafe "and the American Quarterites will have little to do with it" (210-11). Hemingway does not explain the Rotonde's stigma, but Jake's action is in keeping with Wilson's observation. In his 1927 How to be Happy in Paris (without being ruined), John Chancellor also notes that the American residents of the Quarter frequent the Select or the Dome rather than the Rotonde (161).
As does Chancellor, Wilson identifies the Dome as the locus of "America's literary and artistic world" (215). He dedicates an entire chapter to "Domites":
Accordingly if you are a Domite, a permanent resident, you can sit on that Parisian terrace and keep in touch with things at home. And on those great evenings, when some old acquaintance has shown up and is telling you about mutual friends, you forget that you are in a foreign city at all; you forget the thousand leagues of Atlantic water; and, with the murmur of English speech reaching your ears from the terrace, the Dome itself seems only some eastern projection of your own land. (216)
In Paris with the Lid Lifted, Reynolds writes that the habitues of the Dome will disappoint the tourist looking for authentic starving artists: "they don't look particularly starved or poetic or painter-tsh, as you have pictured the romantic, thrilling Latin Quarter-ite to look" (204). He then nods across the street to the Rotonde, as Jake does, and notes that there are "some but not as many nuts" and that the more favored Select is "at its best, about 5 A.M. The haven of tired 'street walkers' and American gluttons for more" (204-5).
Reynolds's introductory invitation--"if you are one of us--come along"--mirrors the exclusivity implied by Brett's repeated assessment of who may be considered "one of us" (40). Attitude and lifestyle define the club-like aspect of Jake's circle and mark the distinction between figures like the Count and Robert Cohn. The appeal of inclusion in this insider's Paris is a standard trope of travel literature that proposes to give its reader a key to the city's hottest bars, restaurants, and nightlife. The travelogues that appeared during Hemingway's tenure in Paris are no different; they guide their readers through the Paris enjoyed by Jake, Brett, and their fellow "club" members. Yet the novel does more than fictionalize a moment in Paris's social history. With The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway not only contributes to the body of travel literature that offers an insider's perspective on the lifestyle of the self-exiled writers, artists, and bon vivants who made Paris in the 1920s legendary, but also mythologizes the historic moment.
Writing on Hemingway in Paris, Carlos Baker explains: "One trouble was that tourists in the Latin Quarter, gazing raptly into the Rotonde in search of atmosphere, naturally supposed that what they saw were real Parisian artists" (6). Baker notes that Hemingway was put off by the "congregation of poseurs" milling idly at the corner of the Boulevard Montparnasse and the Boulevard Raspail (6). (11) Yet, the cafes of the area--the Select, Rotonde, and the Dome--feature prominently in Hemingway's novel. While he might not have been one of the "barflyblown bohemians" that Baker distinguishes from the serious artists working in the Left Bank, Hemingway collapses the distinction between the' authentic and the imitative in his fictionalizing of expatriate lifestyle in The Sun Also Rises (Baker 29).
Baker portrays a Left Bank divided between true artists and "poseurs." Yet this distinction is curiously absent from Hemingway's novel. Biographers such as Baker and Griffin point to Hemingway's concern over authenticity, the desire to portray the real underscored by E Scott Fitzgerald when he famously asserted that Hemingway is "the real thing" (Kuehl and Jackson 78). Hemingway does little to defend the authenticity of his artist characters, implying, for example, that the literary skills of Cohn are less than brilliant. Charles Fenton remarks that Hemingway's familiarity with Europe gave "authenticity of atmosphere" to his early works. Yet his characters are concerned with a different kind of authenticity, one that rewrites the aristocratic expression "people like us" into Brett's clubby "one of us."
Hemingway does express a concern for authenticity in the appreciation of bullfighting. In his study of an early version of The Sun Also Rises, William Balassi notes that the character of Jake, identified in the manuscript as "Hem," finds the mores of expatriate Paris in conflict with aficion, the passionate following of bullfighting (35). Balassi writes that "Hem's emotions are complicated by sexuality, drunkenness, and contradictory rules of behavior, which cause him to doubt whether he truly has aficion. Perhaps he is, after all, more like the other expatriates than he would like to admit" (35). This concern about aficion may be a displaced concern for the authenticity of expatriate artists, but in the Paris segments of The Sun Also Rises Hemingway chronicles a lifestyle that reads like a page from Reynolds's Paris With the Lid Lifted.
Carlos Baker notes that the reader familiar with Paris may feel a "happy shock of recognition" upon reading the names of Left Bank cafes and streets in The Sun Also Rises, yet the uninitiated reader may find such excessive detail tedious (52). He criticizes Hemingway's emphasis on particular sites in Jake's itineraries:
It is hard to discover ... what purpose beyond the establishment of the sense of place is served by Barnes's complete itinerary of his walk with Bill Gorton through the streets of Paris.... The walk fills only two pages. Yet it seems much longer and does not further the action appreciably except to provide lake and Bill with healthy after-dinner exercise. (52)
Without a hypothesis of the itinerary's role in the novel, Baker concedes, "Still, this is the way it was at that time in Paris" (52). The search for the authentic--what he characterizes as "Hemingway's nearly absolute devotion to what is true" (64)--seems to be purpose enough for Baker.
The Sun Also Rises is also a guidebook to the ritual of the writer's life. In the first chapter of A Moveable Feast, Hemingway describes one of his writing routines. When the weather was cold, to avoid the expense of buying firewood and the risk that a cold chimney might not draw, he would walk to a favorite cafe along a particular route:
I walked down past the Lycee Henri Quatre and the ancient church of St.-Etienne-du-Mont and the windswept Place du Pantheon and cut in for shelter to the right and finally came out on the lee side of the Boulevard St.-Michel and worked on down it past the Cluny and the Boulevard St.-Germain until I came to a good cafe that I knew on the Place St.-Michel. (4-5)
Hemingway challenges himself to "write the truest sentence that you know" and his efforts to record the truth in The Sun Also Rises led to the novel's popularity as a succes de scandale (A Moveable Feast 12). The titillation of loosely masked real Left Bank personalities helped promote the novel. Baker notes that those who frequented the cafes mentioned in the book "were alleged to own a key which would admit the bearer to the 'real' identities of the fictional people" (78). Hemingway's itineraries function beyond verisimilitude as guides to the lifestyle of his "club." Yet by the time Hemingway was writing The Sun Also Rises, the particular streets, cafes, bars, and people he mentions had become synonymous with the expatriate artist lifestyle described in travelogues such as Paris with the Lid Lifted and Paris on Parade.
"It's Done in Paris!"
In Pages from the Book of Paris (1910), Claude Washburn writes himself into French literary history as a witness to the most famous cab ride in French literature, transplanted by Washburn from Rouen to Paris:
In the long vista a fiacre, still far away, appeared somehow taller and more shadowy than the others; as it approached it resolved itself into one like the rest, but the hood of which had been raised. Within were a couple exchanging the most frantic kisses I had yet remarked, and with such desperate rapidity that one thrilled at the thought of the number they would have achieved by the time they reached the Place de l'Etoile. I lay back on my cushions and laughed and laughed. For do you think they had raised the hood in an attempt at concealment?... Not only does it disguise nothing, but the fact of its being up in fine weather is the signal for a close and curious inspection by all within range. No, this superlatively amorous pair had raised it in the pretense that they believed they were doing something wrong, and did not want to be seen; in the effort to realize the intoxicating impression of secret sin. (12) (185-6)
Washburn's fiacre scene, Reynolds's itineraries, and Hemingway's Street-bystreet accounts of Jake's promenades recall Flaubert's Madame Bovary in which Emma Bovary takes to the streets of Rouen in order to fulfill her libidinal desires with Leon. (13) Upon leaving their rendezvous at the Cathedral, Leon engages a fiacre, a horse-drawn carriage, to provide shelter for the lovers. Hesitant, Emma resists and Leon appeals to her urbane affectations, "It's done in Paris!" (255). The narrator uncovers her failing resistance, "And that word, with its unassailable logic, decided her" (255). Paris and its urbanity are excuses for transgression and the streets of Rouen provide the couple with the only privacy they can enjoy. As the fiacre speeds through the town, Flaubert traces its path street by street:
It went down the Rue Grand-Pont, across the Palace des Arts, along the Quai Napoleon, over the Pont Neuf, and pulled up sharply before the statue of Pierre Corneille. "Keep on!" came a voice from inside. The cab started off again, and gathering speed down the hill beyond the Carrefour La Fayette, drove into the station yard at full gallop. "No! Straight on!" cried the voice again. (255)
And the tour continues all through the streets of Rouen until Six in the evening when the tour that began before noon ends with Emma descending from the fiacre down a side street in the Beauvoisine quarter.
In his 1919 Paris of the Novelists, Arthur Bartlett Maurice notes that this cab ride through Rouen was "linked with a network of streets" that enhances both reading the novel and visiting Rouen (89). Maurice writes, "Despite the many changes which took place during the latter half of the last century, the visitor in Rouen may without great trouble follow, as the Pilgrim has followed, the streets indicated in that celebrated journey" (221).
The equally impossible love of Jake and Brett also causes them to seek privacy in a cab, driving through the streets of Paris:
The waiter came and said the taxi was outside. Brett pressed my hand hard. I gave the waiter a franc and we went out. "Where should I tell him?" I asked. "Oh, tell him to drive around." I told the driver to go to the Parc Montsouris, and got in, and slammed the door. [....] The taxi went up the hill, passed the lighted square, then on into the dark, still climbing, then leveled out onto a dark street behind St. Etienne du Mont, went smoothly down the asphalt, passed the trees and the standing bus at the Place de la Contrescarpe, then turned onto the cobbles of the Rue Mouffetard. (SAR 32-33)
Emma Bovary's labyrinthine ride through Rouen is recreated, albeit more chastely, by Jake and Brett. Unlike Flaubert's tragic couple, Hemingway's pair cannot consummate their passion, and their cab ride ends at the Cafe Select in Montparnasse. Hemingway's invocation of Madame Bovary, although perhaps inadvertent, befits an expatriate American writer. Emma gives in to Leon's supplications in order to shed her provincial naivete, just as, according to Cheryl Wall, American writers in Paris "wished to grow less provincial, not less American" (65).
Like Emma and Leon, Brett and Jake also have their scene in a church. Their visit to the chapel of San Fermin in Pamplona's church of San Lorenzo is cutshort when Brett refuses to stay because the church "makes me damned nervous" (212). Emma Bovary, the young provincial housewife, seeks sanctuary in the cathedral, fearing the licentious streets of Rouen. Brett, on the other hand, can only curse the "damned" sanctity of the quiet space and rush outside where she and lake cathartically "walk along" (212). Their walk away from the church and ensuing discussion of the wind ("it's liable to go down by five o'clock") ease Brett's discomfort, countering the frightening stillness inside the church with motion and the mundane. (14)
Conclusion: Experiential Travel
The relationship between Hemingway and tourism makes it fitting that Hemingway himself has become a destination of sorts for literary critics and curiosity seekers. John Leland's A Guide to Hemingway's Paris with Walking Tours offers the literary-minded traveler a Hemingway-inspired introduction to the city. For Leland, Hemingway's appeal to the American traveler is that "he was only and always a visitor there, and gave us, exclusively and passionately, an outsider's view" (viii). Unlike the "insider's" guides of the 1920s, Leland's guide is predicated on the shared outsider status of Americans in Paris.
It is also fitting that the bal musette located on the ground floor of Hemingway's first home in Paris at 74, rue du Cardinal Lemoine was transformed into a pornographic theatre in 1975 (Gajdusek 9). (15) If the guidebooks discussed above and The Sun Also Rises can be understood as examples of experiential travel writing, then they can also be considered in the context of sex tourism in modern literature. From Flaubert's 1849 licentious journey through the Middle East to Michel Houellebecq's 200l novel Platforme, travel provides an environment for sexual behavior unthinkable at home. Away from Prohibition and puritan prudishness, expatriate Paris becomes the city for experience, with tourists seeking such experience turning to lifestyle guides like Reynolds's and Wilson's, complete with the "naughty places" of Paris. But as in The Sun Also Rises, both sexual excess and tourism's frantic insistence on perpetual experience have the unavoidable consequence of making sex seem banal and travel boring. Tourists, expatriates, and Hemingway's fictionalized comrades alike are iterations of Emma Bovary and Leon, seeking the sheltering space of foreign streets.
On the other side of "Gay Paree" is the alcoholic self-destructiveness of Hemingway's haunted expatriates, their lifestyle rationed by the banality of rote itinerary. Like a Parisian prophetess, Gertrude Stein had the last word before Hemingway became an icon when she observed that Hemingway "looks like a modern and ... smells of the museums" (qtd. in Aldridge 121). Hemingway wrote of experience and contributed to the experiential travelogue, but has himself become a monument.
Aldridge, John W. "Afterthoughts on the Twenties and The Sun Also Rises." In New Essays on The Sun Also Rises. Ed. Linda Wagner-Martin. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1987. 109-129.
Atherton, John. "The Itinerary and the Postcard: Minimal Strategies in The Sun Also Rises." ELH 53.1 (Spring 1986): 199-218.
Baker, Carlos. Hemingway: The Writer as Artist. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1956.
Balassi, William. "The Trail to The Sun Also Rises: The First Week of Writing." In Hemingway: Essays of Reassessment. Ed. Frank Scafella. New York and Oxford: Oxford UP, 1991. 33-51.
Brenner, Gerry. A Comprehensive Companion to Hemingway's A Moveable Feast: Annotation to Interpretation. Lewiston: Edwin Mellen, 2000.
Chancellor, John. How to Be Happy in Paris Without Being Ruined. New York: Henry Holt, 1927.
Fenton, Charles A. The Apprenticeship of Ernest Hemingway: The Early Years. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Young, 1954.
Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary: A Story of Provincial Life. 1857. Trans. Alan Russell. London: Penguin Books, 1950.
Gajdusek, Robert E. Hemingway's Paris. New York: Scribner's, 1978.
Griffin, Peter. Less Than a Treason: Hemingway in Paris. New York and Oxford: Oxford UP, 1990.
Hemingway, Ernest. Green Hills of Africa. 1935. New York: Scribner's, 1963.
--. A Moveable Feast. 1964. New York: Scribner's, 2003.
--. The Sun Also Rises. 1926. New York: Scribner's, 2003.
Kennedy, J. Gerald. Imagining Paris: Exile, Writing, and American Identity. New Haven: Yale UP, 1993.
Kuehl, John and Jackson Bryer, eds. Dear Scott / Dear Max: The Fitzgerald-Perkins Correspondence. New York: Scribner's, 1971.
Leland, John. A Guide to Hemingway's Paris with Walking Tours. Chapel Hill, NC: Algonquin, 1989.
Lynn, Kenneth S. Hemingway. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987.
Maurice, Arthur Bartlett. The Paris of the Novelists. New York: Doubleday, Page, 1919.
Reynolds, Bruce. Paris with the Lid Lifted. New York: George Sully, 1927.
Wall, Cheryl A. "Paris and Harlem: Two Culture Capitals." Phylon 35.1 (1st Qtr., 1974): 64-73.
Washburn, Claude C. Pages from the Book of Paris. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
Wilson, Robert Forrest. Paris on Parade. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1924, 1925.
(1.) J. Gerald Kennedy describes the Paris of A Moveable Feast as "an imaginary city, a mythical scene evoked to explain the magical transformation of an obscure, Midwestern journalist into a brilliant modern author" (128). Paris as an "imaginary city" is a function of Hemingway's nostalgia, a longing to return to a mythical past in a "fantastic place" (Kennedy 130).
(2.) Wilson remarks that the numbers seem larger because Americans are "so flattered and deferred to" and "so much in the fore in post-war Parisian life" (276). The police counted 30,000 Americans in Paris yet the Chamber of Commerce only unearthed 10,000. Wilson attributes this discrepancy to the failure of the police to accurately count foreigners entering and exiting the country (276-7). By 1927, there were 15,000 official American residents in Paris and 35,000 by the estimate of the Parisian police (Lynn 149).
(3.) By chapter thirteen, Wilson has forgone his earlier discretion and writes, "In the back room of Harry's New York Bar in Paris the expatriates hold forth on their grandiose schemes" (302).
(4.) Wilson tells his Prohibition-era readers, quite charmingly: "And among the French, at least, drinking in a cafe carries no obloquy with it. French women visit the neighborhood bars almost as much as men--honest virtuous women of the community--housewives, store keepers, and shop girls and stenographers pausing on their way to and from work to snatch hot coffee" (120). Despite implying that the primary draw of the cafes is "hot coffee," Wilson goes on for several pages to describe the various types of Parisian aperitifs unavailable, at least legally, in America, and includes a complete chapter on experiencing French wine. Anecdotally, some of Wilson's advice for this 1924 readers is as useful now as it was eighty years ago, such as his advice for catching the attention of an evasive garcon: "Get up as if you were going to leave without paying. Then he will dart from his hiding, a model of smiling courtesy, and will add up your amount, give you your change, thank you for the tip, and bid you au revoir as if there had been no unpleasantness about it all" (134).
(5.) Here, Reynolds's assertion that the trip will be "very, very select" is certainly an allusion to the Cafe Select.
(6.) Ford Madox Ford's role, according to Wilson, is in the publication of "a terribly dull magazine," the transatlantic review (244).
(7.) For a detailed discussion of the first draft of the novel, see William Balassi, "The Trail to The Sun Also Rises: The First Week of Writing."
(8.) In the manuscript draft of the novel, Hemingway opens with a description of Montparnasse. J. Gerald Kennedy notes that "to suggest the torment of his characters, Hemingway created a nocturnal city, a nightmarish whirl of bars, cafes, taxis, restaurants, and dance halls" (97).
(9.) For a thorough discussion of Hemingway's "mental map of Paris," see J. Gerald Kennedy's Imagining Paris, chapter 3.
(10.) Neither Reynolds nor Wilson provides maps of Paris in his guidebook.
(11.) Baker notes, however, that the two supposedly opposing camps, the serious artists and the "wastrels and adventurers" did commingle in the Left Bank cafes (20).
(12.) Washburn includes this scene illustrating the city's hypocrisy and paradoxical values as part of an odd defense of polygamy, though he concedes that (at least in 1910) "we have a long way to go before a satisfactory system of polygamy can be established" (187).
(13.) Hemingway certainly read Madame Bovary and cited Flaubert as one of his favorite "dead" writers (Griffin 99). John Aldridge notes that Hemingway and his cohort of writers of the 1920s were distinguished from previous generations "by their dedication to the Flaubertian ideal of the artist, their sense of belonging to an aristocratic fraternity of talent" (111). Likewise, in Green Hills of Africa, Hemingway notes that Flaubert was "one that we believed in, loved without criticism" (71).
(14.) This scene is foreshadowed in chapter three when Jake and Georgette leave the Cafe Napolitain in a "slow, smoothly rolling fiacre" (23). Unlike Leon, Jake rebuffs Georgette's advances and tells the cocher to stop (24).
(15.) More recently, the space has become an avant-garde cinema (Gajdusek 62).
ALLYSON NADIA FIELD
|Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback|
|Author:||Field, Allyson Nadia|
|Publication:||The Hemingway Review|
|Article Type:||Critical essay|
|Date:||Mar 22, 2006|
|Previous Article:||"Hemingway's In Our Time: Cubism, conservation, and the suspension of identification.|
|Next Article:||The "whine" of Jewish manhood: re-reading Hemingway's anti-semitism, reimagining Robert Cohn.|