Book Review: “The Garden of Eden” by Ernest Hemingway

It’s a rare day that I put down a book after the requisite 50 pages because I no longer want to keep reading. (I’ve done that with maybe a handful of books.)

It’s an even rarer day that I put down a book that I want to keep reading but that I mustn’t keep reading.

Yet this is what I have done with The Garden of Eden

This is the story of a young writer and his new bride, on their honeymoon in the French Riveria. It’s written with Hemingway’s typical terse prose. From the beginning, the interpersonal dynamics between the girl and the writer are fascinating–all the more fascinating by the way Hemingway tells his stories.

Unfortunately, the story starts off with quite a bit of sex (not surprising for a honeymooning couple–or for Hemingway)–and denigrates further as the story progresses.

First the girl cuts her hair like that of a boy.

Then she wants to be more experimental in the bedroom. (Given Hemingway’s somehow less-than-graphic prose in this segment I made it past this part.)

But when she starts taking on with a girl she meets–and when she practically orders her husband to sleep with the other girl–and when I realized that what was coming next was that she too would be sleeping with the other girl–

I knew I had to close the book.

Writing it out like this, so cold on my computer screen, it’s hard to believe that the story thus far was as engaging as it actually is.

It’s a perverted, immoral tale.

So why did I want to keep reading?

I wanted to keep reading because Hemingway truly is a master of his art, and he is tremendously masterful in this particular story.

The writer intrigued me and puzzled me. He very clearly had no desire to be involved in what his wife was drawing him into. He was uncomfortable with it from the first. Yet time after time, he accedes to her wishes. He tells her he likes her hair when he doesn’t. He cuts his hair in the same style as hers. He kisses the other girl.

Why?

Why does he continue this wicked little game?

I won’t ever know. I don’t need to know.

Yet I feel somewhat like Digory Kirke, standing by the bell and wanting so much to ring it.

Thankfully, the book was due back to the library the day I decided, so the temptation to read the rest will subside with the opportunity to do so less accessible–and I will not live to regret having rung a bell that could not be unrung.


This “review” is somewhat unusual among my reviews in not having a summary statement at the end. I feel it unnecessary to rate or provide a short synopsis of this title. On the other hand, I do feel it valuable to give my recommendation: don’t go near this particular bell. And if you find yourself hearing the warning of the Holy Spirit, as I did, over a book you’re reading–please put it down. The paradise this world offers is but a pale imitation, a twisted shadow, a tormented image of the Paradise God offers. Let the vision of the One cause you to turn your eyes from every deformed other.


Musings on laying down arms

Unless something spectacular happens in the last dozen chapters, I won’t be writing a full review of Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms. Maybe it’s just me–or maybe it’s the slow pace that I’m taking through the book–but I think this has got to be the most boring book Hemingway has ever written.

I plug along, one chapter at a time, taking it like a dose of medicine before the dinner that is a book I actually enjoy.

The only redeeming value (thus far) has been the protagonist’s occasional conversations with the priest who serves alongside him on the Italian front of the Great war.

When I last wrote about a conversation between the two, it was the priest who had something useful to say. This time, the protagonist has a real point.

[The priest asked] “Then you think it will go on and on? Nothing will ever happen?”

“I don’t know. I only think the Austrians will not stop when they have won a victory. It is in defeat that we become Christian.”

“The Austrians are Christians–except for the Bosnians.”

“I don’t mean technically Christian. I mean like Our Lord.”

He said nothing.

“We are all gentler now because we are beaten. How would Our Lord have been if Peter had rescued him in the Garden?”

Basically, the protagonist suggests that we only lay down our arms when we recognize that we’ve been beaten.

To hear Hemingway’s description, it appears that the Austrian/Italian front was largely static–the armies just pushed back and forth over the same bit of land in a tug-of-war that seemed to never end.

When the Italians were losing ground, they were humbled. They saw that their fighting was accomplishing nothing, so they were ready to lay down their arms. When the Austrians were losing ground, ostensibly they felt the same way. But it would only be when both were humbled, when both realized that fighting was getting them nowhere that both parties would be willing to lay down their arms.

But the protagonist does more than simply muse on the conditions under which surrender is possible. He makes a statement about Christianity and surrender–even Christianity and disarmament.

Equating imitation of Jesus Christ with Christianity, he states that only in defeat do we truly become imitators of Christ–because it’s only in defeat that we lay down our arms.

I find this idea fascinating in light of my current book club discussion of Tolstoy’s The Kingdom of God is Within You. We’re wrestling with this idea that nonresistance to evil is a Christian virtue–perhaps even, as Tolstoy and some other might suggest, THE Christian virtue (which, by the way, I happen to disagree with–I would say that THE Christian virtue is love. I am, however, wrestling through how nonresistance to evil makes up a component of that Christian virtue of love–but I digress.)

Is nonresistance to evil a primary means by which Christians are to imitate Christ? I’m still turning that topic over in my mind. But Hemingway’s little commentary has made me think a bit further.

Then there’s the protagonist’s final question. “How would Our Lord have been if Peter had rescued him in the Garden?”

What if Jesus had let Peter “deliver” Him in the Garden of Gethsemane? What if He had urged the use of the sword against His enemies?

Jesus would have emerged triumphant on this earth, a military leader. He could have gotten out of there. He could have escaped death.

And he would have been utterly defeated.

Jesus’ victory was not to be found in wielding the sword. His victory was not found even in self-defense. His victory occurred when He surrendered–to God’s will and then, for God’s sake, to man’s.

He could have won an earthly victory in the Garden, but if He had; He’d have lost the eternal battle. And so Jesus, recognizing the eternal defeat earthly victory would have meant, surrendered to earthly defeat in order to gain the heavenly victory.

How often, I wonder, do I fight earthly battles under the illusion that somehow earthly victory means something eternally? Oh, that I could see with the eyes of eternity–and surrender the battles here that if fought and won would only engender true defeat.


WiW: The Happiness of Love

The Week in Words

“…What you tell me about in the nights. That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.”

“I don’t love.”

“You will. I know you will. Then you will be happy.”

“I’m happy. I’ve always been happy.”

“It is another thing. You cannot know about it unless you have it.”

~Ernest Hemingway A Farewell to Arms

The young priest explains his conception of love and of love’s benefits to the American soldier. The soldier proclaims that he doesn’t need such love. “I’ve always been happy.”

The priest counters: You only think you’ve been happy because you’ve never known the true happiness of love.

The soldier asks if he can find such love with a woman.

The priest answers that he does not know. The priest has never loved a woman. He has only loved God.

The priest does not know. But I do.

No, dear soldier. You cannot find such love with a woman–just as I cannot find such love with a man.

You cannot find a love that will never disappoint. You cannot find a love that will always satisfy. You cannot find a love that promises forever happiness in any mere man or woman.

You can only find such love in Christ.

“For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him. For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life. And not only that, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received the reconciliation.

~Romans 5:7-11

It is a whole new type of happiness, a rejoicing unknown by those who have only known the pleasures of this earth or the love of a mere human. It is a love that served us while we were enemies, a love that incites in us adoration.

You will be happy when you love Him. Because when you love Him, it will be be because He first loved you. You will be happy when you love Him, because then you will know His love.

Then and only then will you know the happiness of love. “It is another thing. You cannot know about it unless you have it.”

Collect more quotes from throughout the week with Barbara H’s meme “The Week in Words”.