Hemingway/Faulkner Debate Essay

October 6, 2008

Hemingway’s Style of Writing

The landscape sat underneath the pair and rolled on continuously. The afternoon sky was streaked with a brilliant rainbow, and the sun’s ray shone strongly over the tall city buildings in the distance. The air was chilly while the pair sat on a dry blanket, facing the buildings in the horizon. The duo was being monitored by a couple of acquaintances, making sure they never got too close. He and she, the duo sitting together, had been in Madrid for four days, and were waiting for the end of the week to return to Barcelona.

“Are you going to finish that beer?” he asked.

“No, you can have it,” she handed him the beer.

“Order me another round, would you?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear.”

She stood up, looked down at him gazing off into the distance. His eyes were bloodshot and she knew he was far from reality. As she walked down the grassy slope of land, he kneeled on the blanket and vomited. The vibrant, green grass surrounding him was now a pale yellow.

“Sickening,” he said.

“What is?” she asked, handing him another beer.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Why have you been acting so strange lately?”
”I haven’t. I’m fine.”

“You’re distant from everyone.”

“I’m right here.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“I want to live in those buildings over there, get away from everyone.”

“Did you hear what happened there?”

“A train was coming out of a tunnel and hit head-on with another going in.” °

“Tragic. Maybe I shouldn’t live there.”

“Why do you want to live there?”

“I just need to think… alone for a while.”

“You are married. Take your wife along.”

“No. She wouldn’t understand.”

“If you go live in the buildings, will she understand then?”

“She will never understand. No one ever will.”

“I understand.”

“Yes, but no one else will.”

“Be it, say it, and embrace it.”

“It’s not that simple. Es un lugar malo.”

“They will never understand.” °

“What will you do?”

“I just want to live freely like everyone else. Live open like this blue sky, bright like that rainbow, bold like those buildings.”

“Nothing’s stopping you.”

“Only the whole world and there judging eyes.”

“What will you tell you wife?”

“Nothing. Ella no comprende.”

“You always have me.”

She reached out for his hand and intertwined her fingers in his. He looked down at their hands and pulled away. He interlaced his own hands, dazing off into the horizon, sun shining on his eyes. She stood, glanced at him, then at the buildings, then at his wife and her husband, waiting for them in the distance. She looked at an upside triangle on a bill-board. For a long time, no one would ever understand or accept him.

“Let’s go.” She said, getting up.

“Help me up.”

She out-stretched her arm and pulled him up.

“The world awaits us. Will you be alright?”

“No. Never.” He bent down and took the last sip of his beer.

They walked together down the grassy field. He was nearing his wife, who he knew no longer trusted him, suspicion lingering.

“Walk straight. You’re walking all crooked, all over the place.” She said.