After you came out of the Luxembourg you could walk down the narrow rue Fèrou to the Place St.-Sulpice and there were still no restaurants, only the quiet square with its benches and trees. There was a fountain with lions, and pigeons walked on the pavement and perched on the statues of the bishops. There was the church and there were shops selling religious objects and vestments on the north side of the square. From this square you could not go further toward the river without passing shops selling fruits, vegetables, wines, or bakery and pastry shops. But by choosing your way carefully you could work to your right around the grey and white stone church and reach the rue de l'Odèon and turn up to your right toward Sylvia Beach's bookshop and on your way you did not pass too many places where things to eat were sold.

Participating in the Paris in July challenge by fellow bloggers Thyme for Tea and BookBath has been such a fabulous journey through all things Parisian. I chose this week to read, while preparing for my vacation at the Hemingway Days festival in Key West by reading Ernest Hemingway's, A Moveable Feast. Set in 1920s Paris, it is a retrospective by Hemingway of his life at that time, married to Hadley and surrounded by fellow ex-pats that ranged from Gertrude Stein to Ezra Pound and to F. Scott Fitzgerald. Almost every page provides an image into life in Paris, and I found myself wandering the rue Cardinal Lemoine or by the Seine, drinking from a small carafe of wine or eating in one of the cafès that Hemingway gathers to write. Perhaps he is at the next table?

Although Ernest Hemingway writes in his preface, "If the reader prefers, this book may be regarded as fiction. But there is always the chance that such a book of fiction may throw some light on what has been written as fact." This he relates after he has completed writing A Moveable Feast in 1960, and it is honestly told, no fluff to his descriptions of streets, stores, and life for him and his wife. It is before Hemingway has become the famous writer, and in Paris, he is a struggling writer, being turned down by American magazines, and only being accepted by German publications. Each page is his daily life writing and struggling, living and struggling, and providing for his family. He writes of Hadley in a favorable light, almost sweetly, and she is his supportive wife, and I felt regret from Hemingway. I thought of him writing these events, now an older man living in Cuba, about his younger life in Paris, loyal or insane or sad ex-pats rounding out his circle of friends, and he is unashamedly blunt in his thoughts on each writer or poet that he interacts with.

Hemingway is honest in every detail that he shares. If it is a dark day with black clouds, that is how he writes it, with nothing more, nothing less. I was enchanted by that and I was left to my own imagination, as Hemingway would walk the streets to Sylvia Beach's bookshop, Shakespeare and Company. He writes of being provided books to read on credit, and how he and Hadley save to go on trips together, and how much love they had for each other. Together, they played the races, but it never created tensions between them, only people did, he writes. I found it all to be incredibly sad, especially in the final pages as he writes about deception and his first affair, and it drips with sadness, regret for his choices, and my heart broke again. Perhaps I was so sad about these events because Hemingway, shortly after finishing this book, commits suicide. Does he wish for life to be done over again, to make better choices?

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go, for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast. Ernest Hemingway

Perhaps I am such a fan for Hemingway and his life that this book touched me so deeply. Or perhaps it is the stark grittiness and beauty of Paris that he shares, and the grief of a writer in the midst of it all, that made me feel his lamentations and remorse? I can say that I read books with small Post-It notes to highlight pages that strike me as touching, funny, brilliant, grieving, and I can only honestly convey to you how I felt about this book by sharing this picture of it with you. I loved this story.

"No good book has ever been written that has in it symbols arrived at beforehand and stuck in...I tried to make a real old man, a real boy, a real sea and a real fish and real sharks. But if I made them good and true enough, they would mean many things." Ernest Hemingway on The Old Man and the Sea

(Gulf Coast marlin photo courtesy of my brother-in-law, Captain Mike Miele, a true fisherman)

When I made the decision to read books set in Florida to get me prepped for heading to Key West in a couple of weeks, I didn't realize that the majority of books that I would come across are primarily mystery books. I'm not sure what it is, but it sort of makes sense. There is just something about the Florida Gulf Coast and South Florida that evokes a certain type of mystery and suspense, that languid reflection in the midst of the lush green foliage...But, in preparation for the upcoming Hemingway Days in Key West, I diversified my reading of Florida mysteries to bring you, in honor of Independence Day, one of our greatest American writers and fisherman-- of course, none other than Mr. Ernest Hemingway himself. This week, I read two of his stunning classics, To Have and Have Not, and The Old Man and the Sea. I am embarrassed to admit that I haven't read a Hemingway novel since high school...

I read To Have and Have Not first and I was a little mixed on it simply because I liked one section of the book much more than the other. I enjoyed the second part of the book after the major event (sorry, no spoiler here) that occurs, solely because of the fluidity of the writing and one snapshot story of one boat owner after another in Key West. Written in the 1930s, it is set in Key West, and centered around Harry Morgan, a good man and fisherman who has to start running illegal products to earn some money in order to provide for his wife and three daughters. The first half is mostly around Harry and a few other cast of characters and their lives in Key West as Harry is trying to earn a living. The dialogue was characteristic of how I imagined Americans talked with each other at the time, and it's no surprise to me that Humphrey Bogart was cast in the central character of the movie, since Bogie was a regular blue-collar actor who could represent Americana like no other. The second half was more descriptive, imaginative, and was my *favorite part* -- I savored this section, drinking in each and every word. I usually dog-ear a book to note sections and passages that I love, and I noticed that the majority of the book that's dog-eared is the last half. It also was the section that made me read the words out loud, simply for the beauty of the language.

The Old Man and the Sea has become, hands down, one of my favorite books ever. And I mean EVER. I've always loved the water (even though I get a little bit nervous of dark and deep water -- hello, Jaws...), my father was in the Coast Guard and my sister retired from the Navy after graduating from the Naval Academy, and my husband and my in-laws grew up on the water, and they love to fish. They understand the sport and the battle that goes with it, but I must confess that I never really understood the love of fishing that they have, and to be honest, I sort of felt left out. I always wanted to understand and learn about it, but I never really "got it," unfortunately. With the recent oil spill in the Gulf, though, I've been avidly thinking of the fishing community, how difficult it is and how they are managing to support their families right now. Reading The Old Man and the Sea helped to remind me that fishing is much more than what a stereotype may bring, and I'm happier to have spent the short time to read 124 pages.

Written in the 1950s, and set in Cuba, we've all heard of the story of the epic battle between an old man and a larger than life marlin. But settling into the words of this novella is truly a treat, and I began to even more so understand why Ernest Hemingway is one of the greatest American writers of all time. There are passages like the below that made me sit down, and read out loud, simply for the beauty of the scene, the words, and the images:

He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin. The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish, the female, made a wild, panic-stricken, despairing fight that soon exhausted her, and all the time the male had stayed with her, crossing the line and circling with her on the surface. He had stayed so close that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which was sharp as a scythe and almost of that size and shape. When the old man had gaffed her and clubbed her, holding the rapier bill with its sandpaper edge and clubbing her across the top of her head until her colour turned to a colour almost like the backing of mirrors, and then, with the boy's aid, hoisted her aboard, the male fish had stayed by the side of the boat. Then, while the old man was clearing the lines and preparing the harpoon, the male fish jumped high into the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep, his lavender wings, that were his pectoral fins, spread wide and all his wide lavender stripes showing. He was beautiful, the old man remembered, and he had stayed. That was the saddest thing I ever saw with them, the old man thought. (page 50)

I couldn't read these words without thoroughly seeing the action right in front of me, as if I were there, the fighting male marlin trying to see where his lady was, Santiago and the boy bringing in the fish, without feeling complete sadness for the fish, but also feeling the true ownership of the fisherman to their bounty. Every single moment of the old man battling to catch the *big* fish throughout the novella, is filled with so many unbelievably recounted metaphors and moments, and I was swimming in glee with reading each and every page. What is the old man truly battling? Is he battling to catch the biggest fish of his life, is he battling the end of his declining years as he recalls his favorite memories? There was no effort on my part, as the reader, to fill my mind with the images conjured from Hemingway's words.

It is rumored that Hemingway's first mate, Fuentes, on Hemingway's boat, Pilar, was the subject of Santiago, the old man in the book. Although Fuentes undoubtedly provided several aspects of the Santiago character, there are also other stories that relate how Hemingway and Fuentes were out fishing one day off the coast of Cuba, and came across an old man who was fishing alone, and had been for some time. They offered him help, but the old man waved them off, to continue pursuing the big one -- which consequently caused Hemingway to begin to think of what can compel a man to continue the fight, no matter how long, to catch *the* fish. The Old Man and the Sea is only a little over 100 pages, and it should be all on the "Great Summer Reads" lists. It is a classic, and it is a good one. Hemingway will not let you down -- take a short bit of time to read this novella and become immersed in the life and poetry of fishing. It certainly is helping me get in the mood for Key West...and maybe I'll pick up a fishing rod one day? My husband will be happy, I'm sure...

There is just something about Key West. I've visited so many times, and every time I turn my car into the town's small side streets to pull into the bed and breakfast, I get reminded that I have come to the right place, and I feel like the town is all for me. For some reason, I feel connected to it?  I don't know what it is, but that tiny island just feels like it fits in my life.

Located ninety miles from Cuba, everything about the town streets, the humid air, the tranquil nostalgia that floats from street to alley, from eclectic Key West home to its lush green foliage, seeps into my very soul's essence and leaves its permanent mark on me.  I will always remember how to get here.

The first time I visited was when it was my father's first time entering the world famous Ernest Hemingway Look Alike Contest held at Sloppy Joe's bar -- and it was such a crazy and hilarious idea at the time that we all had to travel to Key West to watch this happen.  The amazing thing is that Key West itself isn't about the beaches, but rather Key West is about the personality.  I didn't realize that the very first visit to Key West would result in me falling in love with this tiny island "nation."  And a "nation" it actually is.  Back in 1982, a border patrol blockade was set up on Route 1, and it cut off the Keys' residents from the mainland.  The Florida Keys protested, and at noon on April 23, 1982, the mayor announced that the Keys had seceded from the Union, thus establishing the Conch Republic.  (And yes, 1982, not 1882.  No typo there!)  After exactly 1 minute of rebellion, the former Mayor, now Prime-Minister, surrendered to the Navy base.  See what I mean?  There's something so incredibly fun and relaxed about this place -- all for the sport of humor and indignation!  So I made a decision this week that for the next four weeks, to get me into the Key West/South Florida spirit, every page I turn of every book I read, will be dedicated to only those set in Florida, with a little bit of Key West thrown in -- all the books reminiscent of that "Old" Florida that creaks of humid days and sweltering nights, trees dripping with Spanish moss, and alligators lazily sunning themselves on the banks of the Everglades...

(Ernest Hemingway is the first picture, obviously, my Dad is next.  Not bad, huh?)

I used to think of Florida as only representative of palm trees and beaches and especially the extremes in ages -- retirees or young South Beach nightclubbing fans.  No in-between at all. Maybe a shark or two.  Needless to say, when I moved to Jacksonville, in North Florida, I had no idea how much I would end up loving Florida and the Old Florida charm.  And I especially didn't realize how daggone big this state was.  To get to Key West, and to save some time and money, I take a Southwest flight from Jacksonville to Ft. Lauderdale, and then I rent a car to drive the four remaining hours to Key West.  To fly directly into Key West is way outta my pay grade.

But I love that drive, those four hours of getting closer and closer to my heaven.  I don't drive through the Everglades, but I do skim just a tad of it on the East side, but I don't get to really see anything.  This summer's trip down, I may make an exception in my trip, and it's all thanks to Carl Hiaasen's storytelling.  I wanted to pick up something light and fun and of course, set in Florida, and I was surprised that Skinny Dip ended up being a combination of an intellectual discussion and debate on the loss and corruption of the Everglades, with a comical mystery thrown in.  Chaz Perrone, silly, lazy, egotistical, and barely a biologist (always correcting those that don't call him "Doctor"), has decided to kill his wife, Joey, by flipping her over the deck of the Sun Duchess cruise ship on their 2nd anniversary.  He's got it all planned out, and he knows that not one person who knows him would ever think that he had the backbone to pull off a murder, especially that of his wife.  It even surprises him that he's able to carry it out.  What he doesn't expect is that she'll survive the fall and be picked up by a retired cop, and that she would subsequently plan to slowly freak him the hell out.

There's no doubt of anyone's true internal character with Hiaasen's storytelling -- you get a clear sense of the personality for all of them.  For good ole Chaz sloshing around in the Everglades performing his duties as a bad scientist, and a biologist at that, Hiassen writes:

...Chaz's sole instrument of defense was a boron-shafted two-iron, which in his hands was far more efficient at scaring off aquatic reptiles than striking a golf ball.  Chaz swung the club haphazardly and yowled like a hemorrhoidal bobcat as he hacked a soggy trail through the saw grass.  Nature recoiled as he threshed the water, launching clumps of algae and splintered twigs and shredded lily pads.  In the cumbersome waders Chaz clomped and teetered like the Frankenstein monster, but the desired effect was achieved:  every living vertebrate within a hundred yards of the dike fled the scene. (pg.77)

I loved this!  I got an immediate understanding of Chaz's hypocritical nature.  It made me laugh out loud, and I watched in my mind's eye as Chaz pitifully made a mess out of his life, never once realizing that he truly was simply cold-blooded, but he was too much of a wuss and too stupid to be anything more than a failed murderer.  The author, Hiaasen, was born and raised and currently lives in Florida, and he takes pride in the beauty of the state that extends much further than just Las Olas in Ft. Lauderdale or South Beach in Miami.  We usually think about the Everglades as just a big swampy mosquito-laden area, but do we really understand what a national treasure it truly is?  Hiaasen makes it clear, and he doesn't leave anything out that is essentially hurting his state.  Corruption does breed in the 'Glades, too, and Hiaasen doesn't forget about the corporate hoo-hahs that help make a mess out of it all.  The degradation of the area wasn't believed until the late '90s, and finally, finally, grants were funded to ensure that pesticides and other chemicals didn't directly drain into the Everglades, which had been rapidly destroying the natural habitat.  I loved every moment of each page.  And I will pick up another Hiaasen book, without a doubt.

I'm excited to visit the Keys again this summer -- and I will always continue to visit during the off season, when rates are low and the Ernest Hemingway Look Alike contest is kicking in at Sloppy Joe's Bar, and the summer heat is at its most intense.  I will certainly not be religiously straightening my hair, and will instead allow it to get increasingly curly with each humid and tropical day, and I'll be able to forget about any frivolous "needs."  I might also just divert my trip into the Everglades before stopping into Key West, and take a quick tour, just to see and witness the crazy and beautiful lush wildlife that exists right here in America.  I'm pretty proud to now call myself a Floridian.

(Republished with updated links...)