Okay, not really. Though I can't blame you for thinking that Hemingway is my favorite author. I admit, it's easy to get the wrong impression. After all, once the facts are considered, I am a little muddled myself about the truth of that statement.
- A Moveable Feast is my favorite book.
- 1920s literary Paris is my favorite era (in which he figures heavily).
- I've read nearly his entire canon—of my own free will and not as assigned reading.
- I consume voracious amounts of titles about him and his life.
- I have visited his homes around the world.
But personally, I find the man a little irritating. I think his characters are flat (especially the women) and there is a too heavy dose of machismo to, well, to everything. And yet—I am fascinated by the man and his life. It was an extraordinary one by all accounts. So what if this lifestyle was funded in part by the inheritances of his wives? They let him after all, and it allowed him to write. And kill lots of animals. Beautiful great wild animals...but I digress.
He must have been an absolute charmer and from time to time, I find myself falling for him. Or at least the idea of himself he was trying to create. I applaude his simple style both in language and drinks, his adventurous spirit, and his ability to call a kudu a kudu.