I'm like five years behind on the popularity of this book, but I finally got to it and I loved it. It was so interesting and intensely heartbreaking. I actually felt physically ill when our heroine's heart breaks. I love Hemingway's writing, but I'm pretty sure I would have enjoyed the book regardless. The writing isn't overly artsy which is good. I find that when a writer is writing about other writers they sometimes try too hard. Not the case here.
"Ernest once told me that the word paradise was a Persian word that meant "walled garden." I knew then that he understood how necessary the promises we made to each other were to our happiness. You couldn't have real freedom unless you knew where the walls were and tended them. We could lean on the walls because they existed; they existed because we leaned on them."
"The weather turned wonderful that fall, and although we knew the cold, damp season would be coming soon enough, we were living deep into what we had."
"If I could name all the rivers I'd ever seen. Or I'd map out a city I'd lived in before, and try to remember all the streets..."
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