House of Hemingway

A few weeks ago, my husband and I went down to Key Largo to get out of snowy Dodge, which seems to want to stay in winter mode forever, but I DON'T want to whine today. We couldn't leave (or at least, I couldn't), without visiting the home of Ernest Hemingway in Key West.

I am guessing some of my readers will know him, some won't, and when I was younger I didn't much like his work until I saw a (really old) movie called To Have and Have Not with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. It was so funny and intense and the dialogue was so good I thought, "Am I missing something?"

I went back to reading Hemingway and liked the pace and deceptive simplicity of his style. Some writers have to go all the way to Eternity and back before they'll let you read a sentence; I much prefer the economy and punch I see in Hemingway. Maybe that's because of being a playwright or maybe it's just what I respond to, but I think most people would agree with me. (You would, right)?

What was funny, and mostly sad about visiting his home was that the guide focused on a lot of his marital messes - and made it sound like he was fairly odious as a husband and in many other ways, too. The tour was full of sarcasm and humor, and yes, I get that he may not have been anyone's favorite person.

But it didn't tell me where the writing came from, or what motivated him to write - and I would have loved to know. While his marriages were going badly, there are other indications that he liked people and was able to have enough empathy to paint them colorfully and indelibly. He cared deeply and passionately about the stories he was trying to tell, and there was no mention of that in this tour.

All this made me think about what we expect of our artists and writers. We want them to be perfect, inside and out, or at least in all their relationships, when no one is or can be. Writers and artists, especially, are not prone to be saints.

I'm not saying they should be murderers or criminals. But do we need them to be angels? I don't. What I do crave in writing is the experience a particular author is having, his/her ability to immerse into a character's life and the intensity of that life - the obstacles faced and the passion required to overcome them.

On the other hand, it was fun to see Hemingway's pool, which his wife insisted on building (though he said hated it; I don't believe that). As a fan of pools, I was glad they had one, especially as the day we visited it was broiling in Key West. It was also great to see all the six-toed cats at the Hemingway estate, writing studio and the portraits.

The house itself was beautiful, but not especially memorable, and really, who cares? It's the writing, not the writer, that matters. It was fun to think about him living in Cuba -- next on my list of where I'd like to go. That is, if I can possibly convince my husband...

House and Pool Photos: Peter Budd

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