Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway

A friend in book club recommended that I read Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway, despite my insistence that I didn't like Hemingway. She assured me I would like it. It's different, she said. 

I was right.

I didn't like it.

At all. 

I thought it would be similar to All Quiet on the Western Front which makes a damning case against World War I and probably all wars. This book does not do that. It makes a damning case against bad dialogue and poor plot. 

I know I'm an outlier. It's Hemingway after all and I suppose he's famous for a reason. But I'm not sure what that is.

The plot is thin: an American serves as an ambulance driver for the Italian forces in World War I before America enters the war. The unfamiliar terrain makes it even more difficult to perceive a plot. He gets hurt and spends a lot of time in a recovery hospital where he spends his evenings with a nurse. They say they love each other. She's feels married to him and he kinda/sorta agrees. We are never sure if they actually love each other or even know each other. It truly is all about the sex. For some reason, she's desperate to keep him. She is completely subsumed as an actual human to whatever he wants and says. Even if he doesn't know what he wants and says contradictory things. She's just there for it. He seems content to keep her around for as long as it lasts.

Once he returns to the war, things go south and the army begins to retreat. Apparently that kind of failure leads to mock trials and summary executions of officers. Who knew? He and his now pregnant "wife" escape to Switzerland. Although the danger of being caught and executed is apparently a thing, we never see any real possibility of that. It's unclear if the army knows he's gone. 

When it comes time to deliver the baby, there are complications, and... spoiler... she and the baby die. He returns to the hotel. The end. (It comes with multiple endings in which the baby lives or dies. But all the endings are just as abrupt and without meaning.)

No case against war. No growth as a human. No insight into the human psyche. Just a self-absorbed man knocking up a horribly foolish and naive girl and she dies. Oh yeah. At one point, he shoots a fellow soldier point blank in a field, and I could never figure out why. He neither struggles with that nor regrets it. It just happens, like most of his life.

It reminded me a lot of Catcher in the Rye and not in a good way. It's the internal musings of a narcissist. I'm not sure why I'm supposed to care what he thinks or thinks about. He mostly spends his time and money (where does all the money come from?) on alcohol. Even his pregnant girlfriend drinks because it keeps the baby "small"?!? 

Maybe the story is about two humans without a shred of humanity between them? Maybe it's about the ennui of war and the ever present sense of meaninglessness? Maybe it's about getting knocked up by an immature, self-absorbed, SOB?

One final note: the dialogue. Every character--male or female, young or old, American or not--spoke EXACTLY the same way. Boring drivel. (And interestingly all spoke like English was not their first language: halting, simple, non-reflexive)

EXAMPLE conversation between Frederick (American, main character) and Catherine (Brintish: the "wife"):

Catherine: "What are you thinking about now?"

Frederick: "Nothing."

"Yes you were. Tell me."

"I was wondering whether Rinaldi had the syphilis."

"Was that all?"

"Yes."

"Has he the syphilis?"

"I don't know."

"I'm glad you haven't. Did you ever have anything like that?"

"I had gonorrhea."

"I don't want to hear about it. Was it very painful, darling?"

"Very."

"I wish I'd had it."

"No you don't."

"I do. I wish I'd had it to be like you. I wish I'd stayed with all your girls so I could make fun of them to you."

"That's a pretty picture."

"It's not a pretty picture you having gonorrhea."

"I know it. Look at it snow now."

"I'd rather look at you. Darling, why don't you let your hair grow?"

"How grow?"

"Just grow a little longer."

"It's long enough now."

"No, let it grow a little longer and I could cut mine and we'd be just alike only one of us blonde and one of us dark."

"I wouldn't let you cut yours."

"It would be fun. I'm tired of it. It's an awful nuisance in the bed at night."

"I like it."

"Wouldn't you like it short?"

"I might. I like it the way it is."

"It might be nice short. Then we'd both be alike. Oh, darling, I want you so much I want to be you too."

"You are. We're the same one."

"I know it. At night we are."

"The nights are grand."

Insipid. Boring. Repetitive. Contradictory. Childish. Meaningless. Circular. It NEVER moves what little plot there is.

So how do I really feel?

Taking Manhattan by Russell Shorto

The book Taking Manhattan by Russell Shorto
was recommended to me somewhere, and since I am an American History nut, I had to read it. Shorto does an excellent job blending rich historical research and primary sources into an imminently readable story. We all know how it ends, but the journey is full of tension. 

Russell Shorto argues that the 1664 transition of New Amsterdam from Dutch to English control was a negotiated merger of cultures that established New York's multiethnic identity. The narrative highlights how the city's, and by extension America's, pluralistic DNA was formed through this pragmatic shift rather than simple military conquest. (AI)

He expertly crafts the narrative by highlighting the two key players: Richard Nicolls (for the English), and Peter Stuyvesant (for the Dutch). Both were ambitious and fiercely loyal to their respective authorities. Neither wanted to see the city destroyed. Together, they saved the city by reaching a compromise that would allow the island to continue to grow and flourish under the protection of the English using Dutch ways of doing business.

The best takeaway was at the end. He follows the Duke of York, for whom the city is named, into his role as King James II. When he appeared to threaten to push Catholicism on England, William of Orange, husband of James' sister Mary, seemed poised to invade. Much like the takeover of New Amsterdam, the English saw wisdom in compromising and allowing William and Mary to reign as sovereigns, pushing aside James II, in a bloodless, "Glorious" revolution. 

In the biggest irony of all, the English took Manhattan from the Dutch; the Dutch took England from the English.

Great book.

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

This book was recommended by another woman in our book club. She claimed I would love it. She was right.

I'll be honest and admit my own bias. I had heard of this book, since it was made into a movie. And although I recollect the movie being English and bucolic, the Japanese name of the author threw me. I thought I had to be mistaken. And I was, frankly, not super interested in a novel about Japanese culture. That's me being biased and close-minded. 

I was wrong on every count. 

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro does reflect what I vaguely recollected of the movie. It is a British-themed book, seeped in British history and culture. 

It is the story of Stevens, a butler of the first order, reflecting on a life of service to a great lord. If I didn't know any better, I would say Ishiguro had either served as a butler himself or had somehow made himself intimately acquainted with the position. In my mind, he perfectly captures a man being passed over by time who is questioning his place and role. 

Stevens has set out on a journey across the country to contact a woman who used to work for him to see if she is interested in returning to the position. The estate has switched hands after the death of Lord Darlington to an American owner and although it requires far fewer staff, Stevens finds his team of four too small. Too many errors that would have been unacceptable in the prior era are surfacing. 

During the journey, Stevens has time to reflect on his life's work. He is particularly interested in what makes a "great" butler. Although he never implies that he, himself, should be counted among that small group, he clearly hopes he has approached greatness. 

His own definition includes "dignity," which he defines as the "ability to inhabit their professional role and inhabit it to the utmost; they will not be shaken out by external events, however surprising, alarming or vexing." (p. 43) This definition is very convicting to me. I think it should apply to the profession of teacher as well as butler. I'm not sure I'm always able to "inhabit [my] professional role...to the utmost." I'm often thrown "out of character" at the slightest provocation. 

In the end, however, Stevens is reflective. Perhaps his extreme loyalty to a man he may be coming to believe was wrong should have caused him to step outside that professional role on occasion, at least to think and develop his own opinion. It's an interesting conundrum. It definitely gave me something to think about personally. 
 

Crucial Conversations by by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, Ron McMillan, Al Switzler

A friend who is also a therapist recommended Crucial Conversations by by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, Ron McMillan, Al Switzler because it so impacted her.

It sounded like something I could use. It was indeed very helpful and hopeful.

In the back was a chart that summarized the whole book. I think it is the best way to summarize it here.

The Distant Hours by Kate Morton

The Distant Hours by Kate Morton is a sweet and captivating novel chosen by our book club this month.

The protagonist is Edie Burchill, a young editor, who uncovers her mother's secret wartime past when a 50-year-old letter arrives from Milderhurst Castle, home to the eccentric Blythe sisters.

Edie, a self-declared romantic, finds herself at Milderhurst one day and decides to take a tour, neglecting to mention her mother's connection to the home. Over the course of the novel, Edie comes to understand, not only her mother, from whom she has long felt estranged, but the mysterious Blythe sisters as well. 

The story weaves back and forth through time and perspective. This can make it a bit hard to follow at times. Each narrator is not omniscient, so it can be confusing to remember who knows what. But that shift keeps the reader engaged in a way that a much more straightforward tale would probably not. 

Edie is front and center. Yet we also experience the world through the eyes of the eldest Blythe, Persephone. Although the other two sisters have their own interesting stories to tell, the "lesser" twin Seraphina, and the dazzling, eccentric youngest, Juniper, by the end, it is Percy whose story is the richest. All are unreliable narrators for one reason or another, and the author almost leaves us without absolute knowledge of what actually happened. Thankfully, she introduces one last vignette, making the reader the only truly omniscient participant. 

Much of the mystery of the novel surrounds Juniper and the fiancée who abandoned her fifty years earlier. Edie's mom had been living at Milderhurst Castle during the war and so knew the central figures. Yet she had kept the entire episode to herself her whole life. Bit by bit, Edie uncovers the "real" story.

So many relationships are showcased in the novel. There is much love and sacrifice, even in the secrets. Bouncing about in time, as we do, we see characters literally grow up before our eyes. Edie, however, is stuck in her own time and can have trouble seeing each person for their totality. It helps that she is "romantic" and can imagine what she never experienced. 

This sweet book makes me want to read more of Morton's books. She has real insight into the human character and relationships. 

1356: A Novel by Bernard Cornwell

I love historical fiction, and Bernard Cornwell is one of my favorites. This is one of his rare stand-alone novels. Since I was not looking to read a whole series, I picked up 1356: A Novel from the library, having no idea what it referenced. I simply trusted Cornwell to make it interesting.

He did.

In the epilogue, he states his reason for this book is because he feels that the Battle of Poitiers has been largely forgotten compared to the Battle of Crécy or the Battle of Agincourt, which bookended the Hundred Years War between France and England. He's right. I hadn't heard of it, and it deserves more attention. 

Because the battle and time period is unfamiliar, I had a hard time in the beginning. He introduces a lot of characters from all over Britain and France. That can be confusing. People from Gascony (France) could very well be fighting on the side of the Brits, while people from Scotland (Britain) are fighting on the side of the French. Not to mention the traitors. 

We begin with Thomas, le Batard. He is the bastard son of an English nobleman. But he has disavowed that heritage and roams France as the leader of a mercenary army-for-hire. At the same time, a "black friar" has set about to retrieve a long-lost relic, le malice, the sword used by Saint Peter to defend Christ in the garden on the night of his betrayal. It is said that the sword contains the power of God but can only be used for good by the legitimate ruler. After finishing his latest gig, defeating Count Villon and "rescuing" the wife of the Count of Labrouillade, Thomas is tasked with finding le malice. 

At the same time, the king of France, Jean, is under enormous pressure to take on the English, led by the Prince of Whales, Edward, who are ravaging the French countryside. 

Twists and turns and adventures ensue as Thomas seeks to find le malice, evade capture by Labrouillade for taking the rescued wife to protect her from Labrouillade's abuse, and avoid the evil clergy also searching for le malice. Along the way he adds some colorful characters to his horde of merry men. 

Eventually they catch up to le malice, but it slips through their grasp and into the hands of the French. Unfortunately Thomas and his men are ordered to report to the camp of Prince Edward to fight in the long-rumored battle with the French forces. Le malice will have to wait.

The battle is remarkably lop-sided. According to what little records we have, the French lose over 2,500 men to the English' 40. Cornwell does a great job taking the scraps of history and weaving them into a believable story of how that could have happened. 

The "good guys" win, love triumphs, and le malice threatens no more. Win, win, win. 

Fun book. Fast-paced and great storytelling.