![]() ![]() ![]() Scott Fitzgerald and James Joyce would hang out with Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali at Shakespeare and Company with Sylvia Beach or at Gertrude Stein’s apartment and drink too much and fight and talk about daily affairs and a full panoply of unimportant things. They were the years when Hemingway and Ezra Pound and F. The annees folles (Paris in the ‘20s) were a heady time for (ironically – or not) English-language literature (as well as perhaps Spanish painting). That time when a novelist is hungrily accumulating and accumulating and accumulating experiences and impressions before plunging into the world of writing – before they have anything to say, they must live life for Hemingway this meant Paris. Though it was perhaps his last written work and was published three years after his suicide, it is about his time in Paris (with his first wife of four) and before he had published any of his novels. ![]() This book can best be described as an auto-biographical prequel. ![]()
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