Essay/Term paper: The sun also rises

Essay, term paper, research paper:  Book Reports

The Sun Also Rises [I cannot express to you how glad I am

that I am taking this class. I am thoroughly enjoying

Hemingway. The Sun Also Rises is one of the best books

I've read in quite a long time. For a while there, I was, for

God knows what reason, taking Physics and Chemistry and

Biology. It is really an adventure to be back with books and

words and reading. I am also amazed that I never could

read more of Him when it wasn't an assignment. And how is

it that when I am told to write "a 3-5 page essay" I can only

come through with two-and-a-half, but a "one-page

response" always wants to be twenty pages long?] I finished

reading SAR around ten o'clock tonight. I could have taken

it all in one big gulp when I began a week ago, but I couldn't

do that. It wanted me to bring it out slowly, so I often found

myself reading five or ten pages and laying it aside to absorb

without engulfing. A man gets used to reading Star Wars and

pulp fiction and New York Times Bestsellers and forgets

what literature is until it slaps him in the face. This book was

written, not churned out or word-processed. Again, I

thoroughly enjoyed reading. I never noticed it until it was

brought up in class, maybe because it wasn't a point for me

in In Our Time, but He doesn't often enough credit

quotations with, ",he said," or, ",said Brett," or, ",Bill

replied." In SAR it stood and called attention to itself. I

wasn't particularly bothered by His not telling me who said

what, but it was very...pointed. I first noticed around the

hundredth page or so. Then I realized I couldn't keep track

of who was speaking. By not dwelling on it, though, sort of

(hate to say this) accepting it, I managed to assign speech to

whomever I felt was speaking. Gradually I came to enjoy it,

in another plane of reading, figuring out from whom words

were originating. To not notice it, as if it were one of those

annoying 3-D posters that you can't see until you make a

concerted effort not to try and see, became simple - much

like those 3-D pictures are once you know what not to look

for. (I abhor ending sentences with prepositions...) His not

telling was heightening to the story. It made things come

even more alive. As a conversation that you're hearing at a

nearby table in a restaurant, the exchanges flowed, with me

as a more passive reader than in a story written to be read

instead of lived. It has always been troubling for me to read

a book with the knowledge that there are things I am

supposed to be catching, but not quite. The fish in the pools

and the allegory and analogy and symbolism aren't fond of

me. Trying to see that the bull-fighters and their purity or

lack and how it relates to Him as a writer surrounded by a

universe of new fiction printed for the masses, that is all fine

and well. The short sentences, the lack of qualifying, "he

said"s and "she saids" and such, the tragedy of his love for

Brett, those are the things I enjoy reading. Those are the

reasons I read and the reasons a man like Him writes. There

are stranger things, Horatio...or something like that. I believe

Paul Simon read Hemingway at some point in his life.

Stillcrazymotherandchildreunionreneandgeorgettemagrittewith...

It is a good book. I was surprised that more was not given

to the bulls. The entire story was leading to it, and then it

was done and they were gone. Very powerful they were but

fleeting. I want to go now, of course, to Pamplona, as I'm

sure everyone who reads does after finishing. It is probably

terrrrrrrible now with touristas and Coke and Nike all

around, but I bet still beautiful. A man was killed this year,

did you know?