In Our Time -- Ernest Hemingway

So, up until very recently, I'd always avoided Ernest Hemingway because I assumed that his books were basically all macho bull-fighting.  Which is a ridiculous assumption to make, but that's the way my brain seems to work.  I develop these completely irrational prejudices and for the most part, stick to them.  (I can't stand Ethan Hawke, for example.  Haven't quite figured out what it is about him, but I just know that I don't like him.  Also, I won't read books about horses.  Or watch movies about horses).

Anyway.  I'm dumb.  I'm dumb because I didn't give him a chance sooner.  I'm dumb because I was stubborn for so long.  (For anyone who's wondering how the heck I made it through college as an English major without reading any Hemingway, my answer is this:  I have no idea).

I finally broke down and read this partially because of Tobias Wolff's Old School (which I adored), and partially because I've decided that I need to read more classics--including and especially the ones that I've been avoiding for so long.  At points I was reminded of both Gertrude Stein and Raymond Carver--and all the way through, I thought of the students in Old School emulating Hemingway's style.  (Now I want to go back and re-read Old School--as if I really needed an excuse).  My favorites were varied--I especially loved "The End of Something", "The Battler", "Indian Camp" and "Soldier's Home."  (Three of them are Nick Adams stories). 

Reading more classics just got a whole lot easier.  I'm expecting to barrel though more E. H. this year.  Except that I just came across Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent and I suspect that I might have to set aside my Ibbotson and pick that one up.  Life is rough.