All is fair in love and war
As we continue to explore the world of American Europe through Jake’s eyes, Hemingway introduces the intricacies of human relations in this microcosm of an expatriate community. In particular, we are brought to attention the competitive nature of male relationship. Furthermore, he dives deeper in the underlying influence of war in his veteran characters.
Book II opens with a mild sense of desertion,
I did not see Brett again…Nor did I see Robert Cohn again. I heard Frances had left…
Such an emptiness is perhaps an association to the Lost Generation concept on Hemingway’s part. Maybe he had come to terms with the label when this book was penned.
In the same phase, Brett’s absence is emphasized, “Brett was gone”. Another signal to the reader that she is of a particular significance to Jake especially because he “was not bothered by Cohn's troubles,” As we can see, Jake took pleasure in having a lack of a monogamous buddy,
I rather enjoyed not having to play tennis, there was plenty of work to do, I went often to the races, dined with friends, and put in some extra time at the office getting things ahead so I could leave it in charge of my secretary when Bill Gorton and I should shove off to Spain the end of June.
The freedom that one is entitled to without being in a committed friendship is explained to the reader in a delightful manner. This freedom that being alone allows Jake to do what he likes, socialize on his own terms, finish his errands and plan for an activity that he would like prolonged companionship with.
This freedom is indeed short-lived as Bill Gorton replaces Robert’s companionship very soon. He is the latest addition to the world of The Sun Also Rises and brings new dynamics to the micro expatriate society we examine. First, Bill is presented as quite a nonchalant, “cheerful” chap who uses “wonderful” and “tight” like his own trademarked adjectives. He joins the group as a contestant for Brett’s attention, who now already has command Michael, Robert and Jake in her command. In this group of four men and one girl, the complexities of male relationships unfold as the friendship become even more entangled in competition.
In terms of friendship, we are already acquainted with that between Jake and Robert. It is interesting that Jake refers to Robert as “Cohn” when he describes him to us, while addressing him more intimately as Robert in real life encounters. This suggests a distance established by Jake in his internal world from Robert. I would argue that Jake does feel superior to Robert in some way. One reason could be Brett. As Jake has known Brett better and longer and has been in and out of love with her, he feels entitled with a sense of “been there done that” in comparison to Robert. The reader identifies this in Robert’s persistent “following” of Brett (in Michael’s ruthless complains) highlight his innocence, immaturity and desperate infatuation.
Tell me, Robert. Why do you follow Brett around like a poor bloody steer? Don't you know you're not wanted? I know when I'm not wanted. Why don't you know when you're not wanted? You came down to San Sebastian where you weren’t wanted, and followed Brett around like a bloody steer. Do you think that's right?
Here, Robert’s yearning for Brett and the rejection he encounters is vividly described to us. We cannot help but feel sorry for him as one would for a dejected teenager who fell out of puppy love.
At the same time, we observe the competitive nature between two males — the alpha Michael and the loser Robert. The hostility of Michael’s tone is not understandable. He sees Robert as a pathetic suitor of his fiancée and his male ego, annoyed by Robert’s pursuit, cannot help but put Robert down at any chance. He even goes on to mock Robert’s social awkwardness,
You know you didn’t have a good time at San Sebastian because none of our friends would invite you on any of the parties. You can’t blame them hardly. Can you? I asked them to. They wouldn't do it. You can’t blame them, now. Can you? Now, answer me. Can you blame them?
Such bullying evokes a sense of pity for Robert once we consider his past as an outcast throughout school due to his Jewish identity. Even with Michael’s “discredit[able]” behavior of medal-faking and history of bankruptcy, Robert still seems and feels inferior to him because Michael has the prize — he has Brett. Those circumstances were alluded to war.
There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent happening.
The fact that such bullying continues into adulthood reflects a failed attempt on Robert’s part to escape being an outcast through expatriation.
While Jake is just as, if not more or more profoundly (in terms of emotion instead of just lust), invested in Brett, he remains a bystander together with Bill when the tension broke out. Hemingway reminds us of Jake’s fixation of Brett in the details. He discreetly notes how Jake notices “Brett, who was sitting on a high stool, her legs crossed…had no stockings on.” Meanwhile, Bill, who also harbors interest for Brett, stays in the sideline to observe the game, possibly trying to familiarize himself with the game in order to know how to play his cards right with our leading lady. As readers, we relish in the drama before us just as much as Jake and Bill.
Strategically, Hemingway inserts a generous amount of humor to alleviate us from the underlying dark tones of the themes portrayed. The male vs. male competition is also depicted on a lighter note through Bill and the Basques exchange of wine-drinking techniques.
Bill raised the wine-skin and let the stream of wine spurt out and into his mouth, his head tipped back. When he stopped drinking and tipped the leather bottle down a few drops ran down his chin. "No! No!" several Basques said. "Not like that." One snatched the bottle away from the owner, who was himself about to give a demonstration. He was a young fellow and he held the wine-bottle at full arms' length and raised it high up, squeezing the leather bag with his hand so the stream of wine hissed into his mouth. He held the bag out there, the wine making a flat, hard trajectory into his mouth, and he kept on swallowing smoothly and regularly.
Here, how skillful one consumes wine becomes a yardstick for manhood.
Adair argues for the allusions to war through the food and dining settings in The Sun Also Rises. Indeed, the smell of gunpowder still lingers in the chronological position of this novel. Once we reconsider the characters from the lenses of war, we realize how many of them are in fact associated with it, and at least one has never and can never walk out of its shadow. Jake suffers from a “unmanning” lifetime of impotence. Brett, even with her “Lady Ashley” title, has seen the face of battle by being a "V. A. D. in a hospital…during the war.” On the other hand, Cohn, due to his lack of participation in the War, will perhaps always feel like an outsider. Bill and even Harris, who becomes a brief topic of conversation, were part of the military affair. In contrast to the generation where “the things that are given to people to happen have already happened”, Jake’s generation were part of the happening and now have to live past it.
Jailei: It seems that in your posts on the expatriates there is a tendency to point out the conflicts and "suffering" (as in the Baldwin post), along with the preoccupation with "reality." This latter preoccupation may be a product of the expatriate's sense of displacement, as you imply in one of the Hemingway posts. It seems to me that, looking at your posts together, the "reality" authors paint on the canvas of Paris is an illusion or could be seen as one. Therefore, in someone like Fitzgerald, about whom you said that Paris became a setting for his resolution of loss, we see (in Babylon) all these elements: the lost dream, the impossibility of redemption, the illusion of glamour. And Fitzgerald's style, although objective, is more florid than that of Hemingway. "His depiction of Paris is dreamy..." In both Hemingway books, the sense of nostalgia is strong, but your first post on TSAR emphasizes the conflicts - and yet the speaker's voice remains objective. See what I'm getting at? Your posts point out a conflict between the desire to reflect reality in writing and the difficulties of real life. The "unreliable narrator" in Ford and the old-fashioned realism of Dos Passos fit into this conflict. The unreliable narrator deceives himself; the traditional realist hints at the main character's self-deception. So, the theme you could highlight through your posts is Paris as a setting for this post-war self-deception, and the modernist style as a product of it... it worked in art, but not in life... and this starts to show in art.
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