How does alcohol reflect trauma in Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms?

Portable Corona number three. That’s been my analyst.[1]

Ernest Hemingway.

 

Ernest Hemingway was a war veteran and an alcoholic. Much of the previous literature has established these two aspects of Hemingway’s life but few scholars have engaged in critical discussion on how they might intersect. As the above quotation demonstrates, Hemingway placed great emphasis on writing as a form of therapy: ‘…trauma provided material for his writing and writing provided a therapeutic outlet for trauma’.[2] Yet, it was often alcohol which acted as a more immediate panacea.

There has been a great amount of biographical focus on Hemingway’s (and many other writers’) personal relationship with alcoholism,[3] which has sometimes segued into textual analyses of the depiction of alcohol in his novels. The alcohol consumption of Hemingway’s various protagonists is frequently analysed in regard to his own drinking habits. This form of critical engagement is predominantly useful in the understanding of Hemingway’s oeuvre, elucidating important similarities and distinctions between the man and his work.

Inevitably, this type of research is further able to illuminate the broader relationship between alcohol and literature – numerous canonical writers were alcoholics. Like Hemingway, some of these authors (for example, Raymond Chandler) had, to varying degrees, experiences of war and conflict. However, as well as it is important to display an awareness of Hemingway’s personal familiarity with war and alcoholism, it should not obscure the way in which Hemingway employed these experiences as literary motifs in his writing. Therefore, it seems worthwhile to explore the potential textual relationship between war trauma and alcoholism. In light of such an aim, this essay will analyse Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms (1929).[4]

Trevor Dodman writes extensively on the subject of AFTA as a trauma narrative, arguing that ‘…the novel stands as a record of [Frederic Henry’s] narrative collision with the violence of trauma’.[5] However, somewhat inexplicably, Dodman neglects to position the role of alcohol anywhere within his explanation of Frederic – the novel’s protagonist – and the narration of trauma. This seems to be a significant oversight considering that the motif of alcohol is almost omnipresent throughout the novel. Norton, conducting a statistical analysis on the alcoholic content in AFTA, found that thirty different types of alcoholic beverage feature in the text and alcohol is alluded to in ‘…104 pages out of a total of 342 printed pages’.[6] The omission in critical scholarship regarding the relationship between alcoholism and war trauma in AFTA is therefore what this essay will attempt to address.

In applying Jane Robinett’s research on narrative and trauma as a framework, this essay will ultimately argue that Hemingway uses alcohol in AFTA to reflect Frederic’s experience of war trauma. Firstly, this essay will outline Robinett’s model on trauma and narrative, the competing medical frameworks of alcoholism and Hemingway’s personal relationship with war and alcohol. This will establish the prism of analysis for exploring Hemingway’s use of alcohol to reflect trauma in the content, style and form of AFTA.

 

***

 

Postmodern scholarship propounds the theory that lived experience – particularly trauma – is inherently inaccessible and resists accurate linguistic representation. Robinett, in contrast, argues that ‘…writers often turn intuitively to writing as a way of confronting and surviving trauma suffered in their own lives’ and ‘…some writers have indeed found eloquent linguistic expression for their traumatic experiences’.[7] This reflects the importance of establishing a common relationship between experience and narrative, but such a relationship should not be mistaken for cause and effect. Hemingway imbued the narrative of AFTA with his own experiences of war and alcohol, but one must be careful not to overstate Hemingway’s personal trauma in the establishment of his literary aesthetic.

In her analysis of two war novels,[8] Robinett asserts ‘…a close correlation between the experiences of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and narrative structure itself’.[9] The integration of behavioural psychology into the literary analysis of trauma is a helpful one. Though this essay will not adhere strictly to a medical diagnostic framework, it will utilise the clinical insights established in Robinett’s model.

Adapting a theoretical template from Herman,[10] Robinett invokes three groups of psychological trauma symptoms: hyperarousal (continuous anticipation of danger), intrusion (re-experience of trauma in the present), and constriction (emotional reclusion and detachment). Robinett refines and expands upon Herman’s groupings, arguing that ‘…hyperarousal, intrusion, and constriction set up an irregular, recursive construct in the trauma survivor’s life, sometimes existing below the surface of consciousness for years, only to emerge when triggered by a physical or emotional event’.[11] Robinett’s nuancing of the three symptom groups is particular valuable for this essay’s analysis: literary depictions of trauma often configure in a manner which is discontinuous, sporadic and fragmented. As Dodman notes correctly of Frederic, ‘…the disarticulation of the self occurs in a narrative that shifts unpredictably between past and present, between the time of the action and the time of the telling’.[12] This essay will argue that Hemingway’s use of alcohol in AFTA is consistent with such a depiction of trauma.

The medical discussion surrounding alcoholism is extremely contested. Cited causes range from genetic predisposition, social environment, cognitive deficiencies, childhood trauma, variant combinations of the above, and possible comorbidity with other disorders.[13] Much analysis of heavy alcohol consumption stems from the premise that alcoholism is a disease requiring medical treatment. The DSM-5 (2013) describes alcoholism as ‘Alcohol Use Disorder’, supplying it with the following diagnostic criteria: ‘[a] problematic pattern of alcohol use leading to clinically significant impairment or distress’.[14] The validity of such criteria is highly disputed. The DSM (in its various editions) is often heavily criticised for its perceived ethnocentrism, lack of transparency and connections with the pharmaceutical industry.[15] For the purposes of this essay, understanding the symptoms of alcoholism is significant. However, it is also worthwhile maintaining a critical distance from current medical discourse – in the association of characters’ attributes and actions with alcoholism – during the forthcoming analysis of the novel.[16]

Finally, this essay will provide a brief outline of Hemingway’s personal experiences with war and alcoholism. He served as an ambulance driver on the Italian front in World War I and was injured in the conflict. This provided much of the inspiration for the similar events which occur to Frederic in AFTA. Moreover, Hemingway later acted as a war correspondent in the Spanish Civil War and World War II. These various experiences of conflict informed much of his literary output.    Hemingway’s life was also dominated by his alcohol consumption and, later, the thralls of mental illness. Martin writes that ‘[d]aily drinking started for Hemingway in the early 1920s as his first marriage failed and escalated with the deterioration of his relationship with his mother and his father’s suicide’.[17] It is therefore inferred that Hemingway’s drinking resulted from personal trauma and his desire to self-medicate. However, ‘[h]is chronic alcoholism put him at greater risk of depression even as he struggled in vain to use this toxic drug to treat himself’.[18] Eventually, at the age of sixty-one, Hemingway committed suicide.

Undoubtedly, self-medication will be a focal point of analysis in this essay’s discussion of AFTA. However, whilst being aware of Hemingway the man, it is useful to disengage biography somewhat from his literary output. Forseth acutely argues that with Hemingway there is ‘…a distinction to be made between his artistic treatment of drinking and his editorializing about it’, ‘…his artistic depiction of drinking is not necessarily pathological’, and that sometimes he made ‘…superb artistic use of his knowledge of alcohol’.[19]

Returning to Robinett’s article, she concludes that authors who write about trauma are serving a ‘moral purpose’[20] in the construction of their literary narratives. Hemingway, conversely, declared that AFTA was ‘…an immoral book’.[21] This essay will further analyse whether Hemingway’s use of alcohol contributed to AFTA’s supposed immorality, or whether, in articulating trauma, the novel in fact possessed a significant moral dimension.

 

***

 

The first mention of alcohol in AFTA occurs in Chapter Two, with Frederic stating:

Later, below in the town, I watched the snow falling, looking out of the window of the bawdy house, the house for officers, where I sat with a friend and two glasses drinking a bottle of Asti, and, looking out at the snow falling slowly and heavily, we knew it was all over for that year.[22]

Here, Hemingway’s terse, economical prose style is immediately observable. His use of alcohol is essential in establishing the setting: engaging the primary senses of the reader, and, for the moment, facilitating narrative continuity. The bottle of Asti is, to a degree, subject to personification: it is placed on equal standing with the friend in the clause. Already established, then, is the value Frederic places on alcohol. Later that evening, he describes the wine as ‘…clear red, tannic and lovely’.[23] Camastra notes these as ‘noble characteristics’.[24] After the priest is taunted at the mess – the atmosphere embodying the masculine ideal of social bonhomie – the drunken soldiers finally leave, sodden, for the brothel. Hemingway has assured the prominence of alcohol in only the second chapter. Frederic the narrator, who is already aware of the events that will follow, has begun with a deferent depiction of alcohol that informs his forthcoming attitude. The early setting is yet devoid of traumatic intrusion.

In Chapter Three, Frederic ‘winefully’ explains to the priest why he did not go Abruzzi: ‘…how we did not do the things we wanted to do; we never did such things’.[25] Presumably, he did not go to Abruzzi due to his alcohol consumption. However, the narration is looking forwards not backwards. Frederic attempts to confide with the priest:

I tried to tell about the night and the difference between the night and the day and how the night was better unless the day was very clean and cold and I could not tell it; as I cannot tell it now.[26]

Frederic, narrating events in retrospect, refers to his future wounding but cannot sufficiently express his trauma. The intrusion occurs from Frederic’s retrospective narration; the trauma is internally relived before the event actually comes to be depicted. Dodman writes that ‘…the admission speaks to his struggle to articulate a set of wartime experiences that remain resistant to the meaning-making structures of language’.[27] Frederic’s heavy alcohol consumption is significant here. The numbing self-medication of alcohol contributes to Frederic’s silence. In his trauma he is displaying symptoms of constriction to the extent that, as reflected by Hemingway’s writing, ‘[t]he silence…becomes an essential part of the narrative structure’.[28] Herndl argues similarly that ‘[t]he result is a novel focused on silence and stoicism’.[29] Hemingway’s sparse, masculine prose style is able to effectively display Frederic’s increasingly passive and desensitised character as the trauma deepens throughout the novel. Often, Frederic is at his most quiet when he is it at his most drunk.

In Chapter Nine, there is an interesting depiction of alcohol use in the immediate period before Frederic is wounded:

[…] took a bite of cheese, chewed, and then a drink of the wine […] I took another mouthful and some cheese and a rinse of wine […] I ate the end of my piece of cheese and took a swallow of wine.[30]

The slow, methodical narration precedes Frederic’s first major trauma in the novel: the severe injury to his leg from a mortar explosion. The importance that Hemingway prescribes to the imbibed wine is characteristic of his literary style. There is a fondness in Frederic’s narration; the repetition of actions at the communal dinner – ‘the meal’s ritualized order of operations’[31] – described to include every potential nuance of the occasion. In the closing moments before the first trauma, Frederic is able to associate his being as outside a state of hyperarousal. Before he suffers the trauma, he is less susceptible to expect danger. Frederic, here, is attempting to associate himself with an untraumatised past. As Robinett argues, ‘[m]emory and remembering threaten trauma survivors not only in their daily lives, but also because they serve to isolate survivors from both their untraumatized past and the possibility of a reconnection to a future life’. The only hint of Frederic’s forthcoming fate lies in alcohol: the wine tastes of ‘rusty metal’.[32]

During his recuperation in hospital, Frederic resorts to drinking alone and regularly. His varying distrust for doctors, nurses and medical practice lead him to his own form of alcoholic self-medication. He becomes utterly dependent, storing bottles under his bed to avoid their detection. Frederic’s contempt for persons teetotal heightens the more he falls into alcoholism.[33] In Chapter Fifteen, a surgeon comes to suggest that Frederic wait six months for an operation on his leg. Frederic is dumbstruck (he has been drinking copiously and often). After the surgeon leaves, he dismissively questions the man’s rank as a first captain to the house doctor. The doctor, however, agrees with the surgeon, then, most damningly of all, refuses Frederic’s offer of a drink:

‘Will you have a drink?’ I asked.

‘No thank you. I never drink alcohol.’

‘Just have one.’ I rang for the porter to bring glasses.

‘No. No thank you. They are waiting for me.[34]

This is sharply contrasted hours later by Frederic’s call for a second opinion. It arrives in the form of Dr Valentini:

‘Will you have a drink, Dr Valentini?’

‘A drink? Certainly. I will have ten drinks. Where are they?’

‘In the armoire. Miss Barkley will get the bottle.’

‘Cheery oh. Cheery oh to you, Miss. What a lovely girl. I will bring you better cognac than that.’[35]

Dr Valentini is, of course, a major. In his narration, Frederic is only able to associate positive characters with alcohol. His easing of trauma – the imminent surgery on his leg – is now, at this point in the narrative, heavily conditioned with perceptible alcohol consumption.

In Chapter Twenty-Two, Frederic is still recovering from surgery. His alcoholism has likely caused, and certainly exacerbated, his jaundice. Miss Van Campen, the matron, finds all of Frederic’s empty brandy bottles[36] and confronts him:

‘I suppose you can’t be blamed for not wanting to go back to the front. But I should think you would try something more intelligent than producing jaundice with alcoholism.’

‘With what?’

‘With alcoholism. You heard me say it.’ I did not say anything. ‘Unless you find something else I’m afraid you will have to go back to the front when you are through with your jaundice. I don’t believe self-inflicted jaundice entitles you to a convalescent leave.’[37]

This is the only time that alcoholism is explicitly mentioned in the novel, and it is via the condescending tone of Miss Van Campen. Again, it is possible to observe Frederic’s narrative association of teetotal persons with negative consequences and, ultimately, trauma. Furthermore, he is constricted: punctured with the inability to speak when Miss Van Campen declares his alcoholism. Parallels with Hemingway’s own war experiences are useful here: ‘During his stay in the hospital in Italy, after being wounded on the Italian Front, his drinking had become something of a problem […] the superintendent of nursing became seriously disturbed by it’.[38] Hemingway imbues the narrative with his own experience in a way which Robinett might argue constitutes a moral articulation of trauma – but this remains a moot point. Martin writes of Hemingway’s appropriation of his war experiences in the novel: ‘Hints of fantasies of wish fulfillment and revenge are decipherable in the fictional alterations he made to the events he had experienced. Hemingway carried physical and emotional wounds home with him from World War I Italy; telling the story of those wounds and applying twists of fantasy may have served a defensive role for the author’.[39]

Frederic’s relationship with alcohol dovetails then rises to extreme levels in the remainder of the novel. In Chapter Twenty-Five, he only reluctantly goes for a drink with Rinaldi and does not want to get drunk on account of his jaundice, for which Rinaldi mercilessly teases him. From the point that Frederic travels to Milan, however, his drinking habits prevail again. He tries to forget the war over a martini, but ultimately frets that the war may go on forever. As Dodman argues, ‘[Frederic’s] narrative expresses anxieties about the uncontrollable persistence of traumatic memories’.[40] In line with Robinett’s model, a few drinks do not mitigate the intrusion of Frederic’s past traumatic experience. In Switzerland, therefore, his alcohol intake increases at a phenomenal rate. Whilst Catherine is pregnant there, she too ups her alcohol consumption alongside Frederic’s. The couple wistfully talk of ‘white capri’: a sophisticated drink Hemingway presumably considered would act as a metaphor for their consummated affection. It is mentioned for a final time not long before the end of the novel. The closing psychological trauma is imminent.

In (the final) Chapter Forty-One, Catherine enters labour and Frederic takes her to hospital. Catherine gives birth to a stillborn child and is gravely unwell. Frederic goes out to a café while the doctors attempt to care for Catherine:

I ate the ham and eggs and drank the beer. The ham and eggs were in a round dish—the ham underneath and the eggs on top. It was very hot and at the first mouthful I had to take a drink of beer to cool my mouth. I was hungry and I asked the waiter for another order. I drank several glasses of beer […] I ordered another beer. I was not ready to leave yet […] I drank another beer.[41]

When Frederic returns Catherine has suffered a haemorrhage and will shortly die. At the moment of optimum trauma, Frederic’s narrative dictates that he is depicted drinking excessively in a café. The prose is ordered and precise; small details are outlined; each temporal moment is analysed. The use of “I” is compelling here. It is controlled and meditated. In the hospital, Frederic’s narrative is frantic, jumbled and delusional: at first he believes his child is alive and healthy, and writes ‘I had no feeling for him’.[42] The structure of “I” at both the café and hospital ‘…corresponds closely to the dialectic of trauma […] characteristic of the structure of psychological trauma’.[43] Frederic is undoubtedly drunk in the hospital as he was in the café. But the period of alcohol consumption in the café is viewed passively, almost with a peculiar serenity. As noted by Robinett, traumatic memories can associate themselves with ‘…a complete calm and a wordless, timeless silence that speaks compellingly’.[44] His drunkenness in the hospital is matched, however, by ‘…a fragmented, episodic web’[45] of speech.

The narrative in the hospital is characterised by the three symptoms of psychological trauma: hyperarousal in the expectation of Catherine’s death; intrusion in the recollection of Aymo’s death and Rinaldi’s syphillis; constriction in the emotional repression of the book’s final sentences:

It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.[46]

In light of the trauma, ‘…these deaths remain alive for Frederic. They hemorrhage through the narrative-reminders that while many are strong at, the broken places, vulnerabilities remain’.[47] Presumably, as a result, Frederic has a drink.

 

***

 

In conclusion, Hemingway’s use of alcohol in A Farewell to Arms is able to reflect a condition of trauma within the literary narrative. By applying Robinett’s model of narrative trauma, this essay has shown that discontinuous, fragmented psychological trauma symptoms of hyperarousal, intrusion and constriction can be explained in AFTA as a reflection of the protagonist, Fredric Henry, and his experience with alcoholism. Furthermore, this essay has contributed a textual analysis which contains a qualified awareness of the clinical insights on alcoholism and trauma, an understanding of Hemingway’s personal relationship with war and alcohol, and, finally, an engagement with the moral implications in the writing of trauma. Ultimately, this essay has argued that Frederic’s retrospective narrative of events in AFTA is conditioned by his alcoholism and his positive associations of alcohol with masculinity, self-medication and as a panacea for psychological trauma. Hemingway’s terse, sparse prose only illuminates such a narrative.

 

 

Bibliography

 

American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: DSM-5. (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013)
Baker, Carlos, Ernest Hemingway: A Life Story (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1969)
Camastra, Nicole J., ‘“I Was Made to Eat”: Food and Brillat-Savarin’s Genesiac Sense in A Farewell to Arms ‘, The Hemingway Review, 33.1, (2013), 86-92
Cosgrove, Lisa, and Krimsky, Sheldon, ‘A Comparison of DSM-IV and DSM-5 Panel Members’ Financial Associations with Industry: A Pernicious Problem Persists’, PLoS Med, 9.3, (2012), in <http://www.plosmedicine.org/article/info%3Adoi%2F10.1371%2Fjournal.pmed.1001190&gt; [accessed 4 January 2015]
Dardis, Tom, The Thirsty Muse: Alcohol and the American Writer (New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1989)
Dodman, Trevor, ‘”Going All to Pieces”: “A Farewell to Arms” as Trauma Narrative’, Twentieth Century Literature, 52.3, (2006), 249-274
Enoch, Mary-Anne, ‘Genetic and Environmental Influences on the Development of Alcoholism: Resilience vs. Risk’, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1094.1, (2006), 193-201
Forseth, Roger, ‘Alcohol and the Writer: Some Biographical and Critical Issues (Hemingway) ‘, Contemporary Drug Problems, 13, (1986), 361-386
Goodwin, Donald W., Alcohol and the Writer (Kansas City: Andrews and McMeel, 1988)
Hemingway, Ernest, A Farewell to Arms (London: Random House, 2005 [1929])
Herman, Judith, Trauma and Recovery (New York: Basic Books, 1992)
Herndl, Diane Price, ‘Invalid Masculinity: Silence, Hospitals, and Anesthesia in A Farewell to Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 21.1, (2001), 38-52
Hotchner, A. E., Papa Hemingway (New York: Random House, 1966)
Kazin, Alfred, “The Giant Killer”: Drink & the American Writer (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1976)
Laing, Olivia, The Trip to Echo Spring: Why Writers Drink (Edinburgh: Canongate, 2013)
Martin, Christopher D., ‘Ernest Hemingway: A Psychological Autopsy of a Suicide’, Psychiatry, 69.4, (2006), 351-361
Norton, Charles A., ‘The Alcoholic Content of A Farewell to Arms’, Fitzgerald/Hemingway Annual, (1973), 309-313
Owens-Murphy, Katie, ‘ Hemingway’s Pragmatism: Truth, Utility, and Concrete Particulars in A Farewell to Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 29.1, (2009), 87-102
Robinett, Jane, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, Literature and Medicine, 26.2, (2007), 290-311

 

Seals, Marc, ‘Trauma Theory and Hemingway’s Lost Paris Manuscripts’, The Hemingway Review, 24.2, (2005), 62-72
Wilhelm, Randall S., ‘Objects on the Table: Anxiety and Still Life in Hemingway’s A

Farewell to Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 26.1, (2006), 63-80 (p. 70).

[1] As quoted in A. E. Hotchner, Papa Hemingway (New York: Random House, 1966), p. 139.

[2] Marc Seals, ‘Trauma Theory and Hemingway’s Lost Paris Manuscripts’, The Hemingway Review, 24.2, (2005), 62-72 (p. 62).

[3] For examples, see Alfred Kazin, “The Giant Killer”: Drink & the American Writer (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1976); Donald W. Goodwin, Alcohol and the Writer (Kansas City: Andrews and McMeel, 1988); Tom Dardis, The Thirsty Muse: Alcohol and the American Writer (New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1989); Olivia Laing, The Trip to Echo Spring: Why Writers Drink (Edinburgh: Canongate, 2013).

[4] Henceforth the novel will be referred to as ‘AFTA’.

[5] Trevor Dodman, ‘”Going All to Pieces”: “A Farewell to Arms” as Trauma Narrative’, Twentieth Century Literature, 52.3, (2006), 249-274 (p. 249).

[6] Charles A. Norton, ‘The Alcoholic Content of A Farewell to Arms’, Fitzgerald/Hemingway Annual, , (1973), 309-313 (p. 309).

[7] Jane Robinett, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, Literature and Medicine, 26.2, (2007), 290-311 (p. 291).

[8] The novels are: All Quiet on the Western Front (1929) by Erich Maria Remarque; and The Sorrow of War (1990) by Bao Ninh.

[9] Robinett, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, p. 292.

[10] Judith Herman, Trauma and Recovery (New York: Basic Books, 1992), p. 45-53.

[11] Robinett, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, p. 297.

[12] Dodman, ‘”Going All to Pieces”’, p. 251.

[13] Mary-Anne Enoch, ‘Genetic and Environmental Influences on the Development of Alcoholism: Resilience vs. Risk’, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1094.1, (2006), 193-201.

[14] American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: DSM-5. (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013), p. 490.

[15] Lisa Cosgrove and Sheldon Krimsky, ‘A Comparison of DSM-IV and DSM-5 Panel Members’ Financial Associations with Industry: A Pernicious Problem Persists.’, PLoS Med, 9.3, (2012), in<http://www.plosmedicine.org/article/info%3Adoi%2F10.1371%2Fjournal.pmed.1001190&gt; [accessed 4 January 2015].

[16] This essay will use the term ‘alcoholism’, but with the mitigation outlined here.

[17] Christopher D. Martin, ‘Ernest Hemingway: A Psychological Autopsy of a Suicide ‘, Psychiatry, 69.4, (2006), 351-361 (p. 355).

[18] Ibid., p. 360.

[19] Roger Forseth, ‘Alcohol and the Writer: Some Biographical and Critical Issues (Hemingway) ‘, Contemporary Drug Problems, 13, (1986), 361-386 (pp. 374, 378, 380).

[20] Robinett, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, p .308.

[21] Quoted in Carlos Baker, Ernest Hemingway: A Life Story (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1969), p. 429.

[22] Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (London: Random House, 2005 [1929]), p. 6.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Nicole J. Camastra, ‘“I Was Made to Eat”: Food and Brillat-Savarin’s Genesiac Sense in A Farewell to Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 33.1, (2013), 86-92 (p. 87).

[25] Hemingway, AFTA, p. 12.

[26] Ibid., p. 13.

[27] Dodman, ‘“Going All to Pieces”’, p. 259.

[28] Robinett, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, p. 304.

[29] Diane Price Herndl, ‘Invalid Masculinity: Silence, Hospitals, and Anesthesia in A Farewell to Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 21.1, (2001), 38-52 (p. 39).

[30] Hemingway, AFTA, pp. 50-51.

[31] Katie Owens-Murphy, ‘ Hemingway’s Pragmatism: Truth, Utility, and Concrete Particulars in A Farewell to Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 29.1, (2009), 87-102 (p. 92).

[32] Hemingway, AFTA, p. 50.

[33] Other minor characters that refuse to drink, such as Mr Meyer and Ettore, are also damned in Hemingway’s prose. These characters are a source of Catherine’s distaste, but channelled through Frederic’s narrative.

[34] Hemingway, AFTA, p. 90.

[35] Ibid.

[36] Wilhelm argues that ‘Henry’s obsessive draining of them [the brandy bottles] becomes […] something more than mere alcoholism, reflecting as well his unconscious urge for inner spaces emptied of their contents’. Randall S. Wilhelm, ‘Objects on the Table: Anxiety and Still Life in Hemingway’s A Farewell To Arms’, The Hemingway Review, 26.1, (2006), 63-80 (p. 70).

[37] Hemingway, AFTA, p. 129.

[38] Forseth, ‘Alcohol and the Writer’, p. 370.

[39] Martin, ‘Ernest Hemingway’, p. 359.

[40] Dodman, ‘”Going All to Pieces”’, p. 258.

[41] Hemingway, AFTA, pp. 290-291.

[42] Ibid., p. 287.

[43] Robinett, ‘The Narrative Shape of Traumatic Experience’, p. 307.

[44] Ibid., p. 303.

[45] Ibid., p. 304.

[46] Hemingway, AFTA, p. 293.

[47] Dodman, ‘”Going All to Pieces”’, p. 265.

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Published by

Joseph Owen

PhD, Carl Schmitt, Modernism and Sovereignty at University of Southampton

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