Thirteen - Loaded

I do declare, this is a violation of Man Law. Jake is having a perfectly good time up in the middle of nowhere with his best buddy Bill and a quaint fellow by the name of Harris. He's having a good old time knocking back a couple bottles of wine and going fishing with The Boys, and then he just up and bails because Brett is in Pamplona. Major party foul, Mr. Barnes, I'm going to need to see your Man Card. I guess what Hemingway is saying with Jake's readiness to abandon fishing and fun to go see Brett is that he really does have strong feelings for her. Although I think we already knew that. It's not like he's in it for the sex, amiright? *drum sounds*

I apologize for that. Okay, next, I've got a bone to pick with you, Hemingway. That's right, YOU *epic point* Afición definitely has an accent over the o. You accent every single usage of the word "café" in the entire novel, but in the case of "afición," you just got lazy? alt+162, it's not that hard, I promise.

I feel better. Next, let's see...we've got Mike's war story. Although...that's not much of a war story. I suppose it sort of has to do with the war, but it essentially takes place outside of it entirely. So I guess that's just another example of the members of the Lost Generation being uncomfortable actually talking about the war, so they tell cute little jokes and short funny stories in order to talk about it without really talking about it.

Right, so moving right along, Mike is a jerk. He keeps up with the whole "let's make fun of Cohn" deal that everyone else subscribes to. However, he at least goes right on out and says "Why do you follow Brett around like a poor bloody steer? Don't you know you're not wanted?" (p. 146). From this we can clearly see that Mike has adopted the more direct "Harvey Stone" method, as opposed to the more subtle "Jake Barnes" approach. Which naturally leads us into our Cohn equals Steer metaphor. This is turning out to be a loaded chapter.

Why is everyone so mean to little Cohn? Yeah, we know he's the only Jew, and he's the only nonveteran, but those are really just shallow coverings to hide the true cause of resentment throughout the entire group. Cohn acts sort of like the scapegoat, the target that receives the full force of resentment that is circulating throughout the entire group. Everyone picks on Cohn, and therefore nobody else seems to get mad at anyone else. Think about it, Jake and Mike have never had a tussle, even though they both love the same lady. Bill and Brett have never had an argument, even though Bill is literally the only guy in the group who hasn't had a saucy weekend affair with her. All this resentment and anger that should be floating around the group just sort of gets directed at Cohn, who bears the full fury of the entire group as a whole and is "gored" if you will. That's what makes him a steer. He takes on the entire group's aggression so that the group doesn't tear itself apart. Cohn is a steer not because he follows Brett around like Mike says; that's a job generally reserved for sheep. No, Cohn is a steer because he is the one who is sacrificed to the bulls.

It's just been revoked, Jake

Twelve - Gone Fishin'

I have come to the conclusion that Ernest Hemingway likes fishing. This is one of the nicest, most peaceful chapters in the book, and I doubt it's a coincidence that it focuses primarily on fishing. This is also possibly the first chapter in which the characters do not actually get straight-up staggering-home drunk. A little buzzed perhaps, but not that bad. It's kind of nice (although I must admit that generally on a fishing trip, the opposite is supposed to happen;. Perhaps that's some kind of paradox?). It has really been the first time that Jake has been able to relax throughout the course of the entire novel. Usually, he's running around from bar to bar, always moving, always talking to people, dancing on occasion, always up and active. However, when he goes fishing with his good buddy Bill, he seems extremely chilled out. I think this is particularly well-portrayed through his personal choice of fishing method. Rather than partaking in the mildly more active fly fishing method like Bill, he just drops some worms in the water and sits around until he gets a bite. I personally find it intriguing that Jake also catches more fish through the chilled-out method than Bill catches through the active "I'm gonna lasso a fish" method (note: fly fishing does not actually involve lassoing fish. It just looks like it sometimes). I think Hemingway is saying that in life, sometimes it's more effective to sit down, chill out, and just let things happen, as opposed to chasing issues down and solving them by any means necessary. Enough about fishing, let's discuss that deep ManTalk Jake and Bill share.

Bill and Jake are able to talk more openly with each other than any other two characters in the novel. The brief discussion of Jake's accident serves as essentially the basis for the whole "Jake-can't-do-the-nasty" theory that resonates throughout the course of the novel. So it's kind of important. Bill starts taking cracks at him, saying "another group claims you're impotent" (p. 120). Jake naturally denies this, but then starts to worry that Bill might feel bad about that last little jive. I think that there really wouldn't be any point for Jake to feel bad if there wasn't any truth to the joke. So he tries to salvage the conversation and make a little running joke out of it, leading into some fun stories about a fellow on a horse. Or maybe it was a tricycle. Anyway, the point is that the subject of impotence pops up way too many times in this book for it not to apply to Jake. Hemingway isn't the sort of person to just drop something like that and not have any meaning behind it. He never outright says it, but at this point, I'd say it's undeniable. However, Bill, being the nice guy that he is, decides to try to salvage his buddy's masculinity. He tells him he's a "hell of a good guy" (p. 121). I interpret this to essentially mean "I still think you're a man, even if your parts don't work." What a good friend. Then the conversation rolls into homosexuality causing the Civil War. Not true in the slightest, obviously, but I think that Bill mentions this to sort of reinforce that earlier theme of losing sight of what's masculine. Essentially, I think Bill is just trying to say that he loves Jake, but in a purely heterosexual and bromantic fashion. Long story short, Bill and Jake are best buddies, but they're not gay, no matter what those folks in New York might say.

This sign says it all

Eleven - Magic Bus

I don't want to cause no fuss, but can I buy your magic bus? noooooo....*solo break*

Ahem. *adds to playlist*

Bill and Jake go for a bus ride in this chapter. That's what I'm trying to say here. I doubt the bus is actually magical. That's just silly. Anyway, one thing that amused me on this little bus ride was that the native Basques felt inclined to teach Bill and Jake how to properly drink from a wine-bag. As if they really needed another method of intoxication. I'm truly glad that alcohol has this power to just bring everyone together...on top of a bus. That is a very safe place to get "tight." Anyway, this chapter illustrates two guys physically moving away from their problems again. There's that whole sense of movement. This time, they're hopping on a bus to moooove away from Robert Cohn, and go on a lovely male-bonding fishing experience. Still, it's just moving all the same. Eventually they've got to end up in the same place they started. But still, it's a nice little vacation.

This is The Who. You wish all they were doing was wine-skins. Heehee.

Ten - Welcome to Spain

I am just not feeling the creative titles today. There was something interesting about this chapter that struck me almost immediately. This of course is the extreme detail that Hemingway gives to the landscape and area of Spain. In previous chapters, things followed a simple pattern: "I woke up, went to the cafe, met Friend X, *three pages of dialogue*". It was a simple style, and it got the job done. However, now we're in a brand new country, and Hemingway spares no expense on the vivid imagery. Things like "You could feel the air came from the sea," (p. 97), and "long brown mountains and a few pines and far-off forests of beech trees on some of the mountainsides" (p. 99). Anyway, it was certainly a welcome change. Dare I say refreshing? Anyway, as far as the way of plot goes, nobody likes Robert Cohn. Poor guy. It's quite understandable for Jake to hate on him; one can only assume that perhaps Jake is a wee bit jealous. However, I don't really get why Bill is so hostile. I guess it could just be that little "air of superior knowledge" (p. 101), but he certainly got worked up awful quick. Maybe he just senses that Robert Cohn is just destined to be made fun of. Anyway, seeing as they are Jake and Bill, rather than confronting Cohn, they dance around the topic and make fun of his Jew-ness. Real mature, guys.

This is Spain. It's pretty, just like Hemingway said.

Nine - Developments

Intriguing developments. Brett and Cohn apparently had quite the saucy fling up in San Sebastian. or maybe it's down in San Sebastian. Or neither. Up and down have nothing to do with cardinal directions. Nevermind. Anyway, yes, Brett had an affair with Cohn, and now Jake knows about it as well. However, he does not let on that this even remotely bugs him. So, given that we already know Jake never lets on about his true feelings, I think it's safe to assume that he is extremely peeved. Understandable, to say the least. However, this little fling is probably going to be quite different from all those other ones, simply because this one involved Cohn. I doubt that Cohn, due to his old-school values, will be able to just let his saucy fling in San Sebastian simply just be a fling. He's going to try and pursue Brett, most likely, which is sure to lead to more hilarious developments. And by hilarious I mean dramatic and tragic. Oh, one more thing: Jake and Bill don't like Catholics (although I'm about 98% sure that Jake is a Catholic). I think there's probably a very fantastic reason for this. The best I've really got so far is that they're jealous. See, all religious people have an aim, some aspiration or goal in life, something to look forward to, and something to shoot for. The members of the Lost Generation do not. So in reality, Bill and Jake are extremely jealous of this deep-seated feeling of purpose that the Catholics have, but they themselves lack. Bill let's us know his true feelings with snippy remarks like "It's enough to make a man join the Klan" (p. 93), but I doubt he's really all that upset about eating late. Instead, I think he just feels jealous and threatened by the Catholics' sense of tangible purpose.

This is Mr. Smith. He'll tell you all about purpose. And then stab you in the solar plexus.

Eight - Bill Gorton

Bill is a nice guy, I've decided. He of course is another member of the Lost Generation, which is clearly evident by the fact that he drank himself into a blackout stupor in Vienna. However, he's a very nice guy too, which is apparently evident by the fact that he "Loaned the nigger some clothes and went around with him to get his money back" (p. 77). Nice fella. I think I like Bill because he's just such a jokester. He's slightly more open about his feelings than Jake simply because he uses his jokes to tell people how he feels and what he thinks, but it's not quite as outright as Harvey. A good middle ground, I suppose. Mike Campbell, however, is kind of obnoxious. He seems to be a bit fixated on just a few specific things, like Brett's hat, his own nose, and prattling on and on about how beautiful Brett is. Come now, Mr. Campbell, you can't carry on much of a conversation with only three stock phrases. He must be one of those talkative drunks. Anyway, I don't really have much to say about this chapter. I'm probably missing something important...ah well.

I imagine Brett's hat looks something like this.

Seven - Tromper

I had no idea what it meant to "tromper," and I decided it would probably be important to know, in order to understand the quote "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" (p. 62). Wiktionary has now taught me that tromper is a French verb that generally is understood to mean "to cheat on one's significant other." This line of course, is the major indicator that implies that Jake is no longer able to satisfy Brett, as a result of his injury, and this is essentially what keeps them apart. Also, because I am bad at transitions, I suppose this is a good time as any to declare that due to the reference to the Spanish city San Sebastian, I'll be adding "San Sebastian" by Sonata Arctica to my playlist. The other mildly important aspect of this chapter is the good Count M-*checks spelling* Count Mippi-*checks again*...Count Mippipopolous. yes. In addition to having a confusing name, Count M also happens to have a confusing nature. Brett insists that the Count is "one of them," which I take to mean he's one of the Lost Generation, wandering aimlessly through life in a state of seemingly perpetual dissatisfaction. However, the Count seems to foil Jake's entire crew! Unlike most of the people in the Barnes Gang, it appears that the Count actually has a genuine love of life and seems to be one of the only characters in the novel who hasn't adapted a mindset of aimless cynicism. I think this is best depicted by his insistence that Brett "enjoy that [champagne] slowly" (p. 66). Jake and Friends all seem to have oh so much trouble with alcohol, but the Count is able to find pleasure and fulfillment in it by drinking it slowly and savoring the flavor. Intriguing.

This is the image that inevitably comes to mind whenever anyone is ever described as a "Count."