Nothing is real.

I have been speculating on the book all night. Okay, so it’s war, and romance. I know what’s it talking about, but I’m not sure of what it’s saying. I like the romance between Tenente (Henry) and Catherine because they had a lot of conversations throughout the book, which sort of reminds me of Shakespeare who based his romances on witty banter, back when romances weren’t utterly boring. And let’s see. I liked how Rinaldi was always saying “baby.” I’ll probably pick up that habit because that always happens to me when I read a book. All right, so… I love how it’s written; I wish I had prose like Hemingway’s. Hey, that sounds like a could-be parody to Moves Like Jagger. Prose Like Hemingway. I noticed that he used “and” a lot instead of commas to make it sound speedy, which I thought was swell because I do that too sometimes, and I like the rhythm it produces. Anyway, I’m trying to find a way to learn something from the book. That’s really all I’m doing. I’ve thought about it a lot the past few days. You should’ve seen me talk about it in the car when I had just finished it. My mother wasn’t really paying attention to me, but she didn’t really get what I was talKing about, because I started telling her about it right after talking about Doctor Who, and I do that thing where I switch subjects drastically without warning. But yeah. It’s just, you know, it felt like one of those stories where you think it’s headed to something and you’re waiting for it and it never happens… And then the book ends… Though that happens a lot in books, and also in movies, like how I felt when I watched The Seven Year Itch, but I liked that, and you know, Marilyn Monroe… But those are actually my favourite types of ending, the ones that simply end. They’re realistic, and it lets your imagination be able to think about what happens next, and it leaves you thinking about the story… I guess really it’s just the story that matters, because that’s how life is, it’s just a story you think is headed somewhere, some climax, but then you die and it just ends and that’s it… So art imitates life… It doesn’t have to go somewhere because what’s important is the story throughout and how you express it… The story is what’s important, not the ending, because all the ending does is signify that the story stops… That’s why it’s called an ENDING, not a CONCLUSION…. Eureka! Oh, Hemingway, I could kiss you! Now I can add you to my list of authors that have taught me something. I have no such list, but I should start one. I treat every writer like a teacher in a way, and consider writers to be good if they teach me something I can put into my life and my own writing. So now “A Farewell to Arms” has actually “done” something for me. Pardon if you see some more Hemingway on my blog these days, but when I analyse something I tend to grow a bit obsessive. But it’s not obsession, it’s admiration. We should have tea sometime, Hemingway and I. Or maybe coffee, he seems more of a coffee guy… Who knows… If only I had a time machine… A Tardis, more specifically. If I travelled with the Doctor I would ask him to take me to have coffee with Ernest Hemingway.

*This is all that went through my mind while taking a shower this morning.