A Moveable Feast is Hemingway's memoir of early 1920s Paris, particularly of his involvement with the 'Lost Generation.' Not technically fiction (alright, this post really doesn't belong on the blog, but it is too late now), Hemingway wrote the book in the late 1950s. This puzzled me for a couple reasons: 1) He recounts exact conversations and encounters, how did he remember these? 2) Boy does he ever love his first wife, although sweet, this must have been awkward for whichever wife he was on when this was published. 3) Why did he write this book? So much of it was name dropping (Gertrude Stein, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, etc.). By the time he wrote it, Hemingway had won the Nobel Prize and was a very established writer- no need for name dropping.
It is an interesting read and I found myself liking Hemingway, especially his obvious affection for his family and his admiration for other writers. A small insight into the world of a foreign correspondent, struggling to become a writer. Next time I feel like an over-priced beer, I might just head to Hemingways in Yorkville and ruminate on one of our truly great writers.
Next up, I begin my Canada Reads novels, I got an email from the library today- one of them has arrived.