Xylophone, Xerox, Xenon...

This picture is to represent Cohn, a punching bag.  He takes hit after hit from Bill and Jake, no doubt stemming from their own insecurities, and in Chapter X the kicks just keep coming, most often in anti-Semitic comments and questions of intelligence.  As far as I'm concerned, though, Cohn should just spin the situation around.  Throw a "Whatever happened to Brett?" Jake's way and next thing you know he's on his knees begging for mercy.  By this time it's so disgustingly obvious that Jake loves Brett and is jealous of Cohn's affair with her that I have no idea where this plot is headed.  My grandiose dreams of conflict and an interesting story that keeps me awake were clearly wishful thinking.  Back to the drawing board I suppose...

If I Go to Dayton, Will I Be Forced to Read This Book Again?

Well, well, well.  I think we have some potential for conflict!  It would be the first in this book.  Brett, Mike, Bill, Jake, and Cohn are all going to be in Pamplona together, and oh oh oh I hope something happens.  More than likely nothing will.

On a separate idea train, I think I may have figured out why Mr. Costello is making us read this book.  Let it be known that on page 91 it mentions seven carloads of Catholics from, you guessed it, Dayton, Ohio!  Home of the one and only University of Dayton!  Yay...

Binge Drinking

You're right, it's not New Years.  But this guy is very obviously sloshed and I feel like if I even reference drinking then I've hit something of importance in this novel.  It's just so aggravatingly slow and mundane.  Brett came back from Spain, but it doesn't matter because she still won't be with Jake and instead ditches him to go hang out with Mike.  Bill, Jake's American friend, is an ok addition to the story, I suppose.  He keeps the mood of the narrative light and filled with jokes.  Also, judging from his trip in Vienna (he can't remember it), he's apparently a drunk, which isn't exactly a shocker.  I think he'll fit right in with the Sun Also Rises crew, except that he needs to find someone to long for and share a very warped sense of love with.

Motifs...

...get very boring very fast.  I honestly don't know what else to say at this point.  They drink a lot.  They travel a lot.  Their lives lack meaning, substance.

"'This is a hell of dull talk,' Brett said."  -- Page 65

Yes, Brett, yes it is.

In Chapter VII, Brett's newest man (Count Mippipopolous, Hemingway thinks he's funny) has achieved what Jake and his cohorts are searching aimlessly for: happiness.  The Count can actually enjoy life because of his experience in *seven* wars, whereas Jake hates his life because of participation in only one.  Like Jake, Brett is also dissatisfied with her life, and proposes to solve this by (surprise!) traveling to San Sebastian, Spain.  Let's see if this works out for her...

My favorite Calvin & Hobbes strip of all time. Genius.

"Well, Lois, If You Must Know, I Find It Shallow and Pedantic"

"'Hello, Robert,' Harvey said. 'I was just telling Jake here that you're a moron.'"  -- Page 50

I like this Harvey guy.  Way more than I like Jake and Brett and Cohn, at least.  In some respects, he's the perfect representation of what Jake wants to be (I said in some respects).  Sure, he mooches off his friends for drinks and gambling money, but at least he speaks his mind.  It's obvious by this point that Jake's hatred of Cohn is a pure, fiery hot mass of unstoppable and rampant flames, but Cohn calls him his best friend!  Ha!

Also, I hate Frances.  I mean, I guess I feel slightly bad for her, but she definitely had it coming.  And now, Cohn is obsessed with Brett and couldn't give a second thought to Frances.  It's all so shallow in my humble opinion.  Jake leaves the couple at the end of the chapter, signifying that once again he is traveling to solve his problems.  This is rather contradictory and hypocritical if you ask me, because if you'll remember for a moment Jake told Cohn “You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another" in Chapter II.  Yikes.

Bipolar Disorder: The Facts

"Bipolar disorder...is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy levels, cognition, and mood with or without one or more depressive episodes."  -- Wikipedia

Wikipedia has a way of taking really easy and simple concepts and making them complex with big words and unnecessary amounts of blue links.  However, one thing I did learn is that many people involved in the arts have bipolar disorder.  From this I inferred that Hemingway had bipolar disorder (I mean, he was in the war).  Isn't inferrence great?  Now from here I decided that the characters in The Sun Also Rises are direct impressions of Hemingway's ego, and as such all have bipolar disorder as well.  This obviously impressive deduction on my part explains both Cohn and Jake's behavior in the (surprise!) café in Chapter V.  Jake tells Cohn to "go to hell" then quickly recants it.  Similarly, Cohn prepares to storm off in a tizzy but swiftly follows this up by "[smiling] again and [sitting] down."  I'm not really sure why Jake takes his comment back, though.  It's pretty clear he pitys/hates Cohn with an unquenchable passion.  Personally I think it's the jealousy rearing it's beautifully poetic head once again; Cohn is very clearly interested in Brett Ashley (now I know Hemingway is just testing me with the backwards name thing) and Jake doesn't like this one bit, evidenced by his less-than-attractive descriptions of her.  What's so great about this Brett girl anyways?

I have the slightest feeling that this movie was just an excuse for Hollywood to make a risqué film about drinking and sex.  Not at all does that sound familiar to anything.  Ever.

And Who Said Hubris Was Dead?

"...including the [angle] that certain injuries or imperfections are a subject of merriment while remaining quite serious for the person possesing them."  -- Page 35

It's not entirely my fault, but my immaturity makes this chapter hilariously awkward for me.  Hemingway throws quite a twist on the typical forbidden lovers story in Chapter IV when Jake and Brett are continuously kind of almost romantic with each other.  Jake has a condition or ailment or whatever you want to call it that prevents him from satisfying Brett's sexual desires, so for the most part she just doesn't even want to mess with pleasantries.  One can only assume that this tears Jake up internally, though he fails to really show it in the narrative.  Instead he makes a joke out of it!  "'It's funny,' I said. 'It's very funny. And it's a lot of fun, too.'"  No, Jake.  No it's not.  At least Brett sure doesn't think it's funny.  Maybe that's why Jake makes fun of Cohn and treats him so degradingly, besides the Jew thing.  Underperformance is sure to awaken the inner green-eyed monster within Jake, especially with him knowing that Cohn, who I assume to be a perfectly capable man, is making a ploy for his woman.   ¡Ay, Caramba!

Brett is Definitely a Guy's Name

"I was a little drunk.  Not drunk in any positive sense but just enough to be careless."  -- Page 29

First of all, with the exception of Brett's little Debbie Downer moment at the end of the chapter, I love how everyone in this story just seems to be enjoying the company of life.  Sure, it might be the booze, but is that really such a crime in the Lost Generation's society?  I'd like to think not.  In the post-World War I world (redundant? nah...) young adults realize the celerity of one's life and don't waste anytime not enjoying life's many pleasures, one of which is alcohol.  The other is apparently harlotry.  Now, I'm not usually one to judge, but I find it hard to believe that a prostitute (Georgette, in this case, another name I despise) can smile a "wonderful smile".  Then again, it's not my profession of choice and I suppose it is their job to be well liked...luckily, the moral of this story is that Jake dumps the, eh, *socialite* for a more sophisticated, albeit whiney ("Oh, darling, I've been so miserable"), woman named Brett.  Yes, you read that correctly, her name is Brett.  Bleh.  The sad part is that, even after possessing something so detrimental to one's self-esteem as having a name belonging to the opposite sex, Cohn still can't get the time of day from her.  I'm so relieved our protagonist is suaver.

I googled 'Brett' and this is what came up.

BECAUSE IT'S A GUY'S NAME!

Il Mio Italiano è Perfetto

"We went out to the Café Napolitain to have an apéritif and watch the evening crowd on the Boulevard." -- Page 21

I chose the above quote to represent this chapter because I felt like it.  Likewise, Ernest Hemingway wrote a pointless five-page continuation to Chapter I titled Chapter II simply because he had nothing better to do at that moment in time.  On an only slightly related note, I knew what apéritif meant because of my time spent in Milano; it's similar to the Italian word aperitivo, which is essentially a hip place twenty-somethings go to have a drink (you actually pay for the drink itself, the buffet that comes with the alcohol is free).  After I made this cultural connection, I started disliking the chapter significantly less than I did only sentences before.  In addition to this newfound love, I noticed a valuable moral Jake effortlessly lays on Cohn in dialogue that's quite Gilmore Girls-esque: if you hate your very character, taking a trip to South America won't change that.  This is the first of what I assume to be many of Hemingway's poor attempts at brainwashing my mind into resisting self-loathing and using my midlife crisis years instead to build a schoolhouse for orphan children or some other way of improving the world.  Bah.  Pulitzer Prize-winning author I think not.

Something to ponder: Napoleon Bonaparte under a nation more formidible than the French, let's say, the Caliphate.

Dawn: A New Sunrise

Ah.  A new day, and a new book to begin blogging furiously about.  I'll be honest with you, the reviews I've been hearing about The Sun Also Rises (by Ernest Hemingway, 1926) from fellow classmates and avid bloggers alike have been unglamorous and leave a slightly acrid taste in my mouth reminiscent of some serious foreboding.  Nevertheless, I approach the novel with an open mind and a light heart.  After all, Hemingway was a raging drunk (something him and I don't have in common), and as Frank Sinatra once said, "Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy.”  And from thus I deduce my impartial take on Hemingway's writing, inattentive to what my nay-saying peers undoubtedly have to say on the topic.  But I digress...


After reading, no dissecting, the first chapter, I can't help but be puzzled as to in which direction the book will be taken.  The first thing I did notice, though, is that this book is old.  The narrator describes a mentally-weak yet physically-strong Jew from New York who can't stand up to the anti-Semitism at Princeton.  But instead of pitying or empathizing the man like any normal twenty-first century person is supposed to do, the narrator portrays Cohn as all the more pathetic for it.  Whatever.  Oh, and also, Cohn is easily manipulated by women a woman who is nice to him.  Like I said, I'm searching for significance among this all.  In the meantime, here's another quote from Hemingway.  And a picture! :]

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?”

Oh, Ernest, you jokester, you.