(Ernest Hemingway at 24 – image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)
I think it’s funny that Ernest Hemingway describes heaven & hell for his friend F. Scott Fitzgerald in this letter but only describes heaven for himself.
It tells you something about the way that writers see themselves in this world.
That Hemingway’s heaven would have a bullring and a trout stream is obvious. That he’d want one house with nine mistresses shows his youth.
But my favorite thing from the letter to Fitzgerald is the final couple of lines:
Well anyway were going into town tomorrow early in the morning. Write me at the / Hotel Quintana
Or don’t you like to write letters*. I do because it’s such a swell way to keep from working and yet feel you’ve done something.
Writing has to mean something.