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I chose to read this book while hiking the Camino de Santiago for two weeks with my mom. I’d Googled “famous books that feature the Camino” and this was the top result. While I read some Hemingway in high school, I realized I’d never covered this one. Despite what Google promised, I was disappointed that the characters do not hike the Camino?! They spend time in North Spain and the Basque Country, visit Saint Jean (where many start the Camino Frances), and drive (drive!) to Pamplona. In spite of feeling mislead by Google, there was so much that was evocative of setting in this novel; the descriptions of the countryside are evocative, luscious, and it felt an immense privilege to read these surrounded by the landscape I internalized day-after-day while hiking through it. 

When I picked up this book on the first day of my hike, I read first the non-fiction essay about Hemingway’s trip to the bullfights in Spain and I loved this; Hemingway is funny and likable and the way he refers to his wife as “Herself” both made me laugh and respect his awareness of his wife’s presence and charisma. This essay also demonstrated a self-deprecating humor I didn’t expect from Hemingway. His line about the appeal of bull-fighters made me laugh out loud: “The only way most husbands are able to keep any drag with their wives at all is that, first there are only a limited number of bull fighters, second there are only a limited number of wives who have ever seen bull fights.” Similarly, he ended the essay with a punchy, humorous knock at himself for having dishonored his family through no real bullfighting aplomb: “There is always that room at 5 Calle de Eslava, and a son, if he is to redeem the family reputation as a bull fighter, must start very early.” From my high school education, I recall Hemingway as “uber masculine,” a product of hyper-masculine tradition that spills over into and informs his punchy prose. But, reading this book as an adult, I found him to be—both in this non-fiction essay and in the novel—far more nuanced, far more self-aware in his discussions of gender and gender roles. His writing, too, is so more engaging than I remembered from high school: tight and confident in a way that does not feel like black-and-white thinking, but, instead, like numerous sharp observations of human complexities. 

I feel I didn’t appreciate Hemingway’s prose in high school; he’s a remarkable writer on the level of the sentence. Hemingway is doing something that seems simple, but—in that—is very, very difficult to achieve. The naturalness of Hemingway’s dialogue and scene-setting is key to his craft. Conversations occur naturally to the point of the reader’s confusion, as various other characters and events are referred to in a scene, and adjustment is not made for exposition or the reader’s understanding. This approach, therefore, feels like authenticity, like truly dropping us “in medias res.” I can’t think of another writer who does this as well as Hemingway. Yet, he pairs this authentic world-building with some (likely very authentic to the setting) blatant sexism and anti-semitism, which I struggled to parse as the opinions of the characters or of Hemingway himself. While Brett’s character is perceived by other characters through a time-period accurate sexist lens (women come out to gawk at her; Pedro Romero wants her to grow out her hair), it’s the comments about Jewish character Robert Cohn that most baffled my ability to separate the author from his characters. And while body shaming is directly stated (by some characters), the nature of main character Jake’s World War I injury remains consistently vague to the reader. It seems, I deduce, that he lost his penis fighting in the war, but this is always said in a slant way, that captures the emotional impact of the injury (and its impact on his potential love affair with Brett) more than the physical impact. 

The choice of a protagonist whose “manliness” is so fundamental challenged (in his own eyes, in the eyes of others) brings in an inherent and consistent complexity about gender and what is means to be masculine. From Jake’s injury to Brett’s characterization—Brett comfortably hangs out with all male friends, while calling them “chaps,” and occasionally the men refer to collectively to their group as “men,” while Brett acts as she wants, following her sexual and financial desires, wears her hair cut short and her shoulders bare, and she is labeled with a masculine name—the novel’s concept of gender continues to distort and tangle. When Pedro Romero, brilliant young bull fighter appears on the scene, much is made of his beauty and of his tightly-fitting flamboyant clothes (much in the way we might expect a young female person to be received). Brett wonders if his entourage had to “shoe-horn” him into those clothes. The original description of Pedro Romero, alone yet surrounded by his entourage, was my singular favorite image and moment of the novel: “He was standing, straight and handsome and altogether by himself, alone in the room with the hangers-on as we shut the door.” It’s a moment in which it is easy to deeply identify with Pedro Romero. In a novel where emotional evolution is communicated through what is noticed, focused on, and discussed, given the level nature of the prose, gender nuance takes on importance through repetition. Even though the conclusions about gender aren’t obvious, it’s clear that “something is going on with gender” in this novel. And the piling up of moments and details of gender nonconformity shifted my perspective about Hemingway’s relationship to gender in his literary oeuvre. 

Another shift in my perspective throughout this book was on bull-fighting itself. A staunch vegetarian, I know I would be quick to recoil at the cruelty of bull-fighting. But the depiction of the community’s buy-in and risk—everyone running ahead of the bulls, rather than non-implicated spectators out for a bit of entertaining bloodshed—the descriptions of the matadors, particularly the injured fighter and the kid who takes on all the remaining bulls in the essay (he is likely the inspiration for Pedro Romero’s grace and purity in the novel)—made the tradition of bull-fighting appear in a different light to me. What is it that is so alluring about a person rising to the occasion? About someone showing fortitude and brilliance beyond what we expect possible of humans? It’s incredible feats, like the Olympics, that move us: the grandeur and fascination of transcendence, the highest pinnacles of human physical and psychological acts—these capture our hearts and imaginations. And I could see bull-fighting, in its artistry and rigor, in this light. 

The beauty of bull fighting—its pure form, the version embodied by Pedro Romero—is placed in relief against the background of meaningless extravagance and frivolity of the characters who take center stage in this book. The novel begins in the decadence of Paris, as Jake, Brett, Robert Cohn, and their other friends—hilarious Bill and predictably pig-headed Mike—drink, eat, dance, and wile away the time. In spite of the seeming purposelessness of their lives, we see the hollowness Jake feels within this. We also see glimpses of the hollowness Brett feels within this, as she seems to seek over and over again the fulfillment, the thrill of love, while finding nothing of substance to sustain her. This is showcased in her “relationship” with the affluent Count, who buys her extravagant things and doesn’t pressure her into marriage or conformity along similar lines.

The novel’s plot is kicked into motion by arrivals: Michael (Brett’s finance) shows up in town; Bill (who I found hilarious, and read aloud lines like “the road to hell is paved with unbought stuffed animals” and “caffeine puts a man on her horse and woman in his grave” to my mom) shows up in town; Robert Cohn (who falls in love with Brett) returns. These arrivals spark a joint adventure as Brett and Michael choose to join the other three on their fishing trip to Spain, which spirals off-track as Robert Cohn falls for Brett, and Brett falls for Pedro Romero (or at least desires him and his innocence, his freedom), upsetting the stasis in which their lives operate. Through multiple lenses, community and isolation are examined and questioned. In Pamplona, Jake goes to church, and an extended (this is rare!) sentence builds Jake’s anxiety at being a poor Catholic, piles prayers on top of prayers, mapping the circuitousness of his thoughts. The arc of the novel seems to exist more inside Jake than outside of him, as he seems to seek toward some transcendence and restoration without understanding what these might possibly be. We feel this suffering in many of the characters, as they make choices so clearly against their own best interests—but this clarity is the privilege of the observer glimpsing a life, and not the clarity, Hemingway seems to say, of the one who lives it. 

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more line of action. is it possible to regress in a day? tfw 1 minute doodle looks better than 5 minute doodles.

i am not glad with shading at all, but i somewhat like the longest two sketches. for the 35 minute lady, i drew her pose inaccurately and decided to keep it that way, and had to imagine what her stomach would look like in my pose since it's behind her legs in the original photo. half of the faces are ridiculous but it's progress for me, especially on 25 and 35 minute ones. probably will focus on shading, hair and faces next time.

there's even more

these are so cool

i’ve been making metal gear reaction images for my personal use

watched an hour long lecture on face drawing to be able to draw monsoon better... i doubted i would be able to apply any of that, but it seems it was useful to some extent

quick naomi hunter

"snake..... 😔🥺 don't forget to kill yourself....... 🥺😔"

Honestly the funniest part of Conclave was every character whipping out their reading glasses whenever they needed to look at something because they're all old as fuck and can't see.

text and more cringe sketches below

today's results are bad ngl but i'm glad i did it anyway. got a lot of men pics for the last sketch lately, so today i skipped pics until there was a woman. didn't draw her nice but whatever. both of my common issues - small feet and too long torsos - are present. this is supposed to be a bad art diary to make other people less shy, so here it goes. also i liked the shorter sketches (pics 1 and 2).

the most cringe are the 3-5 minute ones below:

mb i should practice drawing women specifically. although might take a break from drawing - or not, will see how it goes.

instead of line of action today is low effort miller johnny bravo redraw

there is a fan made christmas metal gear game and you should try it!

i was looking for christmas cards from metal gear social and instead found the fan made game merry gear solid: secret santa. it is available for free and only takes ~15 minutes to complete, has cool voice acting, funny codec calls, simple controls (arrows, shift, control and mouse) and few fun mechanics like candy cane instead of cigs, gift box (full of bombs!) and a (non digital) camera that is like stun grenade x claymore x c4. in this game, you are playing as santa claus (code name solid santa) and due to tightened security have to infiltrate the house to deliver presents instead of the traditional way. of course, a plot twist awaits at the end, and an even bigger one in the after credits call!

please give it a try, download available at http://www.superfundungeonrun.com/?page_id=297 . you can also look up walkthrough on youtube but why rid yourself of the experience of playing it yourself? i have read the plot summary before playing it and spoiled everything but still had a lot of fun, and hope that you will too!

there is a sequel that i want to play as well!