Rereading the classics at a later stage of life is a bit of a detective story. Was The Good Earth by Pearl Buck a breakthough because stories from China were new to the West? Did My Antonia strike a chord with its lucid portrayal of the nascent qualities of pioneer life? But then again why wasn’t Edith Hamilton’s The Way of the Greeks given more notice in the past when today it sells at Target in a combo package with The Roman Way? Could it be that making difficult subjects facile was not women’s work?
As I started through Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms I couldn’t give much extra credit for the subject matter of an American at the Italian-Austrian front. The prose is of high quality, of course. But then I hit this show stopper passage. A conversation is written up as if by an easedropper on the hosipital ward took notes of a farewell visit from a handful of friends.
The tickets are very expensive. I will draw a sight draft on my grandfather, I said. A what? A sight draft. He has to pay or I go to jail. Mr. Cunningham at the bank does it. I live by sight drafts. Can a grandfather jail a patriotic grandson who is dying that Italy may live? Live the American Garibaldi, said Rinaldi. Viva the sight drafts, I said. We must be quiet, said the major. Already we have been asked many times to be quiet. Do you go tomorrow really, Federico? He goes to the American hospital I tell you, Rinaldi said. To the beautiful nurses. Not the nurses with beards of the field hospital. Yes, yes, said the major, I know he goes to the American hospital. I don’t mind their beards, I said. If any man wants to raise a beard let him. Why don’t you raise a beard, Signor Maggiore? It could not go in a gas mask. Yes it could. Anything can go in a gas mask. I’ve vomited into a gas mask. Don’t be so loud, baby, Rinaldi said. We all know you have been at the front Oh, you fine baby, what will I do while you are gone? We must go, said the major. This becomes sentimental. Listen, I have a surprise for you. Your English. You know? The English you go to see every night at their hospital? She is going to Milan too. She goes with another to be at the American hospital. They had not got nurses yet from America. I talked to-day with the head of their ri-parto. They have too many women here at the front. They send some back. How do you like that, baby? All right. Yes? You go to live in a big city and have your English there to cuddle you. Why don’t I get wounded? Maybe you will, I said. We must go, said the major. We drink and make noise and disturb Federico. Don’t go. Yes, we must go. Good-by. Good luck. Many things. Ciaou. Ciaou. Ciaou. Come back quickly, baby. Rinaldi kissed me. You smell of lysol. Good-by, baby. Good-by. Many things. The major patted my shoulder. They tiptoed out. I found I was quite drunk but went to sleep.
A Farewell to Arms, Hemingway
What a fabulous stream of words. For the passage to be a success, it needs to occur at a point in the story where the reader knows enough about each participant to identfy their voice. Nothing else is feigned. It is a magical transport to a time and a place and a grouping of friends somewhere in the Dolomites.
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