Shouldnt This Book Be A Study Of Narration? It Is So Simple At Times That You Fe

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Term Paper Title	Shouldnt This Book Be A Study Of Narration? It Is So Simple At Times That You Fe
# of Words	860
# of Pages (250 words per page double spaced)	3.44

Shouldn't this book be a study of narration?  It is so simple at times that you feel that you little brother might have written it ("The cab stopped in front of the hotel and we all got out and went in. It was a nice hotel, and the people at the desk were very cheerful, and we each had a good small room") but then there is an honesty that comes through.  This honesty combines with the honesty of the Hemingway characters to face the real, meaningless(?) life which lies in front of them--it may be simple but it is so real ("I could not find the bathroom. After awhile I found it."), and a simple description is often a profound description. Although Gertrud Stein warned him that "remarks are not literature", this writing went on to influence American short story writing for decades. This book made me look at language ("I read the papers with the coffee and then smoked a cigarette.")  Language is a series of symbols which excite meanings in our readers. Simple language does this well.

This book reminded me a lot of Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby ("I'm going to marry him. Funny, I haven't thought about him for a week.") Is it a true cross between The Great Gatsby and On the Road?  It is a 20th century novel.

I can't stand it to think my life is going so fast and I'm not really living it.

Don't you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you're not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you've lived nearly half the time you have to live already?

I liked the descriptions.  Many had a double meaning, were vague, nice:

With her mouth closed she was a rather pretty girl.

I was a little drunk. Not drunk in any positive sense but just enough to be careless.

She was built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht, and you missed none of it with that wool jersey.

She was sitting up now. My arm was around her and she was leaning back against me, and we were quite calm. She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes. They would look on and on after every one else's eyes in the world would have stopped looking. She looked as though there were nothing on earth she would not look at like that, and really she was afraid of so many things.

He was a youngfellow and he held the wine bott...

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