"The Whole of Paris Belongs to Me": Paris does not belong to you

"The Whole of Paris Belongs to Me"

"A writer cannot base a novel on contempt for a person, because hatred distorts his observations."

"The Whole of Paris Belongs to Me" is a biography of ernest Hemingway by the American writer Leslie M..M Bloom, telling the story of Hemingway's journey from parising in the first place, having nothing, to repeatedly becoming a journalist and writing novels, and finally becoming famous, interspersed with his experiments with European and American literature at that time and the anecdotes that happened with various writers and editors.

"If you're young, it's a good place to go and a place where a person becomes an adult," he thought, "and we've all loved it." ”

"And," he added, "to say you don't love is to lie." ”

This quote reminds me of the beginning of Dickens's novel A Tale of Two Cities, which says that this is the best of times and the worst of times.

Some ascend to heaven, some fall into hell.

Paris, the capital of romance, is a place where art comes together. When people think of Paris, they tend to think of gorgeous clothes, intricate pictures, and excellent novels. Hemingway lived in an era where they chatted all night, alcohol, love, and works, like the exquisite patterns of life, and the wisps were engraved from words and social interactions.

We love and hate the present era, it gives us many opportunities to see the wider world, a more diverse life, and at the same time, it makes us and our peers more anxious than any generation, like putting everyone in a cage, sharing with each other, holding each other hostage.

Leslie mentions that Hemingway wrote about the people and things around him before and after "The Sun Also Rises", depicting a ukiyo-e painting of a lady with a variety of styles, a businessman who draws camps, and a writer who chases fame and fortune. Inadvertently, he also placed himself in that picture.

An unwanted writer who insists on self and dignity, and who is poor, has to bow his proud head and borrow money from others.

The pull between dreams and reality has never changed in different eras, some people have decided to quit halfway through, and some people have walked and walked, deviating from the direction. There are few people who can set sail until the right low profile, and more are circling around the harbor, or, in the storm, hitting the reef and sinking ship.

One of Ernest Hemingway's most well-known works is "The Old Man and the Sea", which was first translated by Zhang Ailing and then imported into China, and since then, there have been many translations.

Santiago's tough guy spirit is vividly reflected in Hemingway. He had a fondness for Spanish bullfighting, a deep friendship with open-air drinking, and he mercilessly lashed out at and ridiculed unobtrusive writers, even writing "Spring Tide" to refute it.

Because his love and hatred are so strong that he will hurt his lovers and friends. Hadley, who was eight years older than him, married him when he was destitute, regardless of status or wealth, bore him children, supported his writing, and believed that his literary dreams would take root and thrive.

But hemingway's personality has a little instability or stubbornness. He found another lover like a thrill seeking alcohol. He and Hadley plummeted, and the relationship between husband and wife broke down, which seemed to be the path that every famous person had to take. It is easy to share hardships and hardships, and it is difficult to be rich and noble.

Hemingway's friendship was more sincere than his love, and it was not enough to talk about wine until dawn, and it was not uncommon not to see a word in this life.

At the moment when he embarked on the journey of literature, he was destined not to flourish, and there would be many people in front of him and behind him.

Paris, like the wild of Canaanite, was a generation of writers who lived there, showing their imaginations of literature, of life, of emotions.

In the eyes of future generations, it was a glorious past, but it was also the sound of a broken wine glass floating in the ears.