I wonder how the mythical Hemingway compared to the real one. He had an image of himself that he worked hard to create. I think, that when he saw himself slipping he just could not live with his new self and me made that mess in the foyer.
He was only 61 when he died, but he looked 80. Was it the booze, or the concussions that he had one after the other? He was nearly killed in two plane crashes and after one he butted the door open with his head. Dura fluid ran from his hears.
I enjoyed Valeria Hemingway's book about her relationship with him. I thought it more insightful into what made the man tick that either Baker's or Hotchner's bios.
Good, evil, talented, selfish or no; Hemingway lived a life to be proud of. Was he a good man? I don't know. But he's been kaput for 61 years and we're still talking about him, that says something.
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