Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #53280 in Books
• Published on: 1994-11-03
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 240 pages

Synopsis
The War is just over. In Venice, a city elaborately and affectionately described, the American Colonel, Richard Cantrell, falls passionately in love with Renata, a young Italian countess who has 'a profile that could break your or anyone else's heart'. Cantrell is embittered, war-scarred and old enough to be Renata's father, but he is overwhelmed by the selflessness and freshness of the love she is offering. But this is no fairy tale. The fighting may be ended, but the wounds of war have not yet healed. And for some, the longed-for peace has come too late.

About the Author
Ernest Miller Hemingway was born in Chicago in 1899 as the son of a doctor and the second of six children. After a stint as an ambulance driver at the Italian front, Hemingway came home to America in 1919, only to return to the battlefield - this time as a reporter on the Greco-Turkish war - in 1922. Resigning from journalism to focus on his writing instead, he moved to Paris where he renewed his earlier friendship with fellow American expatriates such as Ezra Pound and Gertrude Stein. Through the years, Hemingway travelled widely and wrote avidly, becoming an internationally recognized literary master of his craft. He received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954, following the publication of The Old Man and the Sea. He died in 1961.

Customer Reviews

Visions of Papa
Readers, Across the River... isn't Hemingway's greatest work. If he hadn't shot himself in the head thirty four years ago, I know that our chubby, bearded friend would readily admit that it falls short of the lofty standard that many of his other works reached.
How do I know this? I know because I'm in regular psychic contact with Papa. I have him here with me right now. He wants all his fans to know that life is good on 'the other side', that the hunting is bountiful, the rum clean, the sport manly, and the women enthusiastic.
He also wants you to stop slating Across the River.... He wants you to know that he wrote it when he was in love. That it stands for something; love overpowering reason; love overpowering time; love overpowering everything. He wants you all to know that he's not ashamed of it, that it's as truthful as For Whom the Bell Tolls and The Old Man and the Sea, that it's just different.
Excuse me a moment, readers. I'm sorry Papa, what did you say? Ok, I'll tell them.
Readers, Papa says: "In writing I have moved through arithmetic, through plain geometry and algebra, and now I am in calculus. If the critics don't understand that, to hell with them."
Thank you, Papa. Thank you.

A blot on Hemingway's legend
Every Hemingway title I have read has been singlularly exhilirating. Granted, my reading only extends to 'For Whom The Bell Tolls', 'A Farewell To Arms', 'The Sun Also Rises' and a handful of short stories - but I've been indelibly impressed with his excellent prose each and every time I pull him down from the bookshelves.

But how he disappoints with this novel!'Across The River And Into The Trees' is truly a let-down. It bears all the hallmarks of vintage Hemingway - hunting, Europe, love, war, cityscapes, nature, fine dining/fine food - but with none of the characteristic narrative muscle or creative conviction to hold itself together.

It starts well enough: we learn why the central character - an Allied Colonel - is in Venice (to shoot ducks). We learn that he is well-respected there as a war figure; that he is in love with a young Italian countess. It ends adequately, with sad farewells and a death...but everything in between reads like a cross between an army manual and a very poor teen romance novel.

The Colonel is fifty - his love interest is nineteen. It's a strange setup and comes across badly. The war-hardened Colonel, when alone with Renata (the countess in question), behaves like a soppy love-struck boy. Renata behaves like an implausible nineteen-year-old. For pages, the dialogue consists chiefly of exchanges like: "Do say you love me." "I love you." "Do you really love me?" "You are my one and only true love." "Oh, I do love you for saying that." "Let's love each other always." "Yes let's, my love." "Have I told you recently that I love you?"

It's infuriating - and it's frankly unbelievable that this stuff came from Hemingway's typewriter! Whenever the two principal characters stop cooing, they discuss the Colonel's wartime memories - which in turn become an excuse for the author to write about detailed military operations that will alienate many readers nowadays. Renata - an Italian teenager, remember - urges these heroic American stories on with an impossible interest. What we're left with is many, many pages of superfluous soldier's jargon and meaningless regiment numbers taken out of context. These details perhaps had more resonance for an audience in 1950 (the date of publication): but today they mean little and only serve to obscure the text.

I can't believe I'm writing this about an author that I respect very highly. Please don't let this review inform your views on Hemingway - he has written other novels that put this offering far into the shade. This is merely a blot on an otherwise brilliant career: I think most critics agree. Having done some research, this seems to be universally regarded as Hemingway's worst effort - he wrote it after a decade away from writing.

If you're new to Hemingway, pick up one of the earlier novels. If you're a die-hard fan, you may find a great deal lacking here.

Down to earth love
Hemingway delivers us feelings on a plate.
This story is so real, impossible love like this (even though it's quite extremely so here) has happened to so many of us - this is pure joy, from start to finish.
If you have been to Venice or only simply Italy in autumn, you will thrill with delight at the thought of Richard and Renata's state of mind.
What this book was to me is a (short, in truth) ode to beauty and simple passion.