The Sun Also Rises

Compared to nearly every other novel that I have been assigned to read over the past four years in high school, The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway, strikes a sharp contrast in terms of diction and syntax. I have enjoyed nearly all the great works of literature I have been assigned to read, with the exception perhaps of Beowulf, but now upon exposure to the direct and engrossing nature of The Sun Also Rises, I feel that my highly exciting literary horizons have been broadened further, as if with every drink Jake takes I am reaching for the stars of success. Hemingway’s succinct use of dialogue that manages to capture the essence and eccentricity of his characters amazes me and convinces me that he is one of my favorite writers.
I don’t understand how, but Hemingway in his portrayal of Jake’s love for Lady Brett shatters my heart into a million pieces. Despite the impossibility of a lasting relationship between the two (due to Brett’s promiscuity and Jake’s genital injury among other issues), neither character is quite able to get over the other. Their conversations are often blithe and nonchalant, but rippling beneath the current with desperation. ‘“What did you say?” I was lying with my face away from her. I did not want to see her. “Sent him for champagne. He loves to go for champagne.” Then later: “Do you feel better, darling? Is the head any better?” “It’s better.” “Lie quiet. He’s gone to the other side of town.” “Couldn’t we live together, Brett? Couldn’t we just live together?” “I don’t think so. I’d just tromper you with everybody. You couldn’t stand it.” “I stand it now.” (62)
Hemingway has no flowery declarations of affection. I see no descriptions of scenery and nature in relationship to the characters. I feel like I would entirely miss the connection (and one that feels electric) between Jake and Brett if I wasn’t paying close attention to the dialogue. Throughout the novel, Brett calls nearly everyone “darling” (and this carelessly intimate idiosyncrasy is indicative of her promiscuous nature), but I get the unshakable feeling that, when she calls Jake “darling,” it’s entirely different. Hemingway doesn’t outright describe a change in her tone, but includes miniscule differences in her conversations- with Jake, she seems slightly more tender, more vulnerable. She dismisses other people when she is with him as though they are extras in a movie about just the two of them. Brett is less careless with Jake. She tortures him like she does to everyone else, but I get the feeling that either she doesn’t mean to or she doesn’t want to.
From the start, Hemingway makes it crystal clear that the relationship between Jake and Brett is doomed. He is unable to be what she needs in a man because of his war injury (the war’s consequences pervade the novel) and she seems to be incapable of lasting commitment- her two divorces and countless dalliances with a variety of men indicate a flakiness and insecurity. But their passion is so palpable in their dialogues that I just don’t care.