A Talk With Patrick Hemingway

I called Patrick Hemingway yesterday evening at 8:22 pm, to let him know that I will soon be going to the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston, to visit the Hemingway collection. As usual, his wife Carol picked up the phone, and the moment she realized I was the caller, she got Patrick on the line.

As soon as we had greeted each other, Patrick mentioned his impending birthday and remarked, light-heartedly, that he was not getting any younger. I told him that his birthday reminds me of my visit, years ago, to Kansas City, where he was born, and the places I visited in that city, which are associated with Hemingway: the premises of the Kansas City Star, the Hemingway home, and the railway station. I forgot to tell Patrick that I also visited the Muehlebach Hotel.

I gave him an update of my Hemingway pursuits--that I had been encountering and reading his prefaces to the new editions of Hemingway's books prepared by Sean Hemingway. I also introduced the subject of the work Sandra Spanier is doing in producing volumes of Hemingway's letters. We agreed that Sandra's work is very valuable.

We talked about developments in Tanzania and sub-Saharan Africa in general, and Patrick reiterated his concern about the future, wondering whether our countries will be able to sustain their urban populations. He is concerned about the kind of urban growth that is taking place, and the increasing burden on the rural people who are supposed to feed the urban populations.

Patrick's concerns about the negative developments taking place in Africa remind me of Ernest Hemingway, who also bemoaned the disappearance of the balanced life of the African people he knew, such as the Maasai. Patrick emphasized again and again that he did not know the solutions to the encroaching problems he was so aware of.

I told Patrick that I called him to let him know about my plans to visit the Hemingway collection at the John F. Kennedy Library, in mid-June, and he repeated his previous pledge to introduce me to the library staff. One thing I always note in my conversations with him is that despite his age--turning 88 this June--his memory is incredibly sharp. He told me that this was a good time to visit the John F. Kennedy Library because there is an exhibit in progress which will continue for some months. He said I should make sure to also see the lion on the floor.

I didn't know anything about this "lion on the floor," but just now, while writing this blog post, I have checked online and read about it. To my surprise, this is the famous "Miss Mary's lion" we read about in Ernest Hemingway's Under Kilimanjaro. This is truly exciting, since I didn't know that this lion had been transported to the U.S.A. I also checked online just now and found information about the exhibit. This is going to be a truly remarkable experience for me.

I also mentioned to Patrick my desire to visit the Hemingway home in Key West, but he said I should think more about visiting Cuba. Patrick and I have talked about Cuba before, with a focus on the Finca Vigia, Ernest Hemingway's home. He noted that with the current state of relations between Cuba and the U.S.A., this should be easier than in the past, although such visits for researchers were allowed.

We talked for 25 minutes, which is probably the shortest conversation we have had, but it was valuable and memorable. (The photo above was taken at Patrick and Carol's home in Craig, Montana, on 27 April, 2013)

Writing as Hard Labour

I want to talk about writing, considering how easy it is to string together words on an empty page and form a sentence or sentences, a paragraph or an essay. We do that all the time and call it writing.

I am thinking about writing as Hemingway defined it, again and again, as hard work, "something that you can never do as well as it can be done."(1)

I could cite Hemingway's many other statements on writing, but here is one I find most memorable: "There's no rule on how it is to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly. Sometimes it is like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges."(2)

That is what I mean by writing, often painful and frustrating. From searching for the right word--and often there is no right word--to getting the sentence right, writing can be an excruciating ordeal, sheer Purgatory.

My most recent experience of Purgatory was writing on Litembo. For a long time, I have wanted to write about Litembo, the place where I was born and raised. I remember the place well: its mountains and valleys, its villages and footpaths, and its people.

I have always wanted to put these images in words. Writing that blog post was one way to test and exercise my faculties. I wrestled with words, trying to describe the landscape, the weather at the top of those mountains, the grass, and the ancient little trees clinging to rocks, defying the cold winds.

As I revise my work, over and over, I see it getting better and better. Eventually I publish it, feeling quite good about it. I return to Hemingway's views on writing: "It is a perpetual challenge and it is more difficult than anything else that I have ever done--so I do it. And it makes me happy when I do it well." (3)

As time goes, however, I discover weaknesses in my published work, and I wonder why I did not see them earlier. Such is my feeling, for example, about my little article on accents.

How I wish I could follow Hemingway's words: "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." (4)


Notes

1) Larry W. Phillips, ed. Ernest Hemingway on Writing (New York: Scribner, 2004), 15.
2) Phillips, 18.
3) Phillips, 15.
4) Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast: Restored Edition, ed. Sean Hemingway (New York: Scribner, 2009), 22.