A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway is a beautiful memoir written in 1957 though it was published posthumously in 1964. Hemmingway writes about what it is like to live in Paris as an American writer who is young, married, and poor. The memoir is sketched with segments of Hemmingway's life and is shaped by his encounters with fellow authors and artists.
My mother is a liberal arts graduate from the University of Fes in Morocco. She studied English and so naturally, the two of us talk a lot about the books we have read. My mother said that she always had the best time reading American classics, her favorite authors being Hemmingway and Henry James. She's read most of Hemmingway (if not all) and has always encouraged me to read his books.
However, it wasn't until a couple weeks ago in my English class that I read a portion of A Farewell to Arms which introduced me to Hemmingway. I didn't really like the story itself but I really enjoyed reading his style of writing.
I decided to read A Moveable Feast because it sounded like a very sweet memoir and I was curious myself as to what Paris was like in the 1950s. (I also wanted to read something that involved some traveling since I haven't done that in a while due to the pandemic). I used to follow a book account on Instagram and the admin would always recommend to her followers that one book so I said... why not?
And I absolutely loved reading it! I love how Hemmingway writes, as I have mentioned a little earlier. He writes simple sentences and keeps his words clear. You don't have to read a sentence twice to understand it. You only read a sentence written by Hemmingway twice in an attempt to decipher his genius.
Hemmingway is very honest when he tells us about his life in Paris as a struggling young man. He writes about his adventures in the city and about the trips he takes with his wife. I can't begin to say how much I enjoyed reading about his encounters and adventures in the great city of Paris. Reading this memoir made me want to move to a great city like Paris and work towards my dream of becoming an author. I could work small odd jobs to afford me the necessities and the cost of keeping a room. But it would only have to be me. I cannot imagine living that sort of life while taking care of a family too.
Here are some quotes that I absolutely fell in love with:
"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold"
One winter morning, my mother and I were sitting on the balcony looking at the trees. This past year has greatly strengthened the relationship between my mother and me, especially as I grow into a young lady. Before the pandemic, we did not really have "deep" conversations about life and what it means to be alive. However, with the death of my uncle (my mother's younger brother - Allah yarhamo), we have had more conversations relating to the topics of life and death and has therefore brought us closer due to our understanding of life.
I mention this because this quote in particular reminds me of a conversation we (my mother and I) have shared. As we were sitting on the balcony, she quietly remarked, only louder than a whisper, "The trees are naked now and we can see everything that they conceal throughout the rest of the year." I remember looking at her and saying, "It's funny to think that the trees have an awrah."
To imagine how the trees must feel with "their branches... bare against the wind and the cold" made me appreciate the clothes I had to protect me from going bare against the wind and the cold. It made me appreciate the hayyaa or shyness that we as humans are able to observe, even if only against the cold. But really, this portion of the quote made me think deeper about how the bare trees were still able to make it, standing against the wind and the cold. How their resilience allows them to live to the next season where they may clothes with leaves once more.
(This comparison reminded me of Esperanza from the House on Mango Street and how she sympathizes with the four skinny trees in her yard. She looks at them for comfort as they have grown, despite being planted in an undesirable, undeserving place for trees. The trees continue to grow upwards despite the concrete that they are rooted in.)
"But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen."
Hemmingway uses a river that would flow again after being frozen to symbolize hope. Often we may view our struggles as something obstructing our path to success but not as often do we imagine how the passing of a particular struggle may greatly benefit us later on.
"People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."
After spending about a full year indoors due to the pandemic, I have come to appreciate all the seasons as they come by.... yes.... even summer. In California, we are currently living in spring and oh I cannot begin to describe to you how much I adore the season! It is not too cold nor too hot. I wake up to the chirping of birds and the buzzing of bees. I feel the wind rustle my wild hair as I stand in the backyard and the shivers the cold sends down my spine. In spring, I am a paper in the wind waiting for her ink to arrive so that she may start writing her own story.
"I've been wondering about Dostoyevsky. How can a man write so badly, so unbelievably badly, and make you feel so deeply?"
Haha... I felt the same when trying to read Crime and Punishment. Perhaps I am too young to even understand his choice of words.
Well, we have reached the end of this post! I hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts on A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway. I had such an amazing time reading this and I would highly recommend it to anyone wanting to start with Hemmingway, wanting to read a memoir, or someone who just wants to know what life is like for a struggling author living away from his home country in a city as grand as Paris. It gives one hope for a life they cannot claim as their own.
I wish for you the very best as always and goodbye.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post !
The American Bookslayer (Asma) xx
Copy from the library that I loaned.
Picture from when we were moving.
Copy rests on my naked mattress.
Shed a couple of tears, not going to lie.
