The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

I have sort of a love hate relationship with Ernest Hemingway. It started some time in the 10th grade when I was forced to read “The Old Man and the Sea”.  At the time, I thought it was the most boring useless book on the planet. But it also reminded me of my grandpa. He grew up on a tiny island in the middle of the Atlantic and spent his youth fishing and all sorts of other salty things.

Hemingway and my grandfather were cut from the same cloth. They were both MEN. In the most ferocious sense of the word. When I read Hemingway, I see the world as I think my grandfather must have seen it.

This came in handy during my Topics in American Literature class in grad school. We focused on WWI ex-pats. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Stein, all those wonderfully glorious people running around drinking gin, smoking cigars, hanging out in cafes, and roaming the French coast. I never thought I was a major Hemingway fan, but I found myself defending him. A lot.

See, there were a few women in the class who hated him. Their post-feminist stance could not let them see past the womanizing, drinking, foul mouth and controversial opinions. Yes, Hemingway was a salty guy. Yes, he treated people horribly. But, just like my grandpa, there I saw a soft gooey center in there. Somewhere.

One thing we talked about a lot were the women in Hemingway’s books. And life. It’s a controversial topic in literary circles: can you appreciate a work if you don’t appreciate the author? How much should you know about an author’s real life, and how does that impact your reading of their work? With Hemingway, there is a natural overlap since A Moveable Feast is non-fiction and the story of “the Paris years”.

Admidst my defending, I did wonder about Hemingway’s woman, real and fictional. They were always seen through the eyes of the men around them, very rarely having their own voice or telling their own story.

I think that’s what I like about The Paris Wife by Paula McLain so much. It’s a glimpse into the life of Hadley Hemingway, Ernest’s first wife, in her own words. (And yes, I see the danger in having someone else tell her story – this is still not Hadley’s actual voice, but someone else telling her story - again.)

The Paris Wife made me want to reach out and hug Hadley. She was stuck on the precipice of two worlds; the Victorian upbringing pounded into her by her overbearing mother, and the excitement of the 1920’s. She embodies the beginning of the “women’s movement” while still holding to traditional values. It’s a challenge we as women still face; how to balance having a life of our own while still being good mothers and wives.

Hemingway didn’t make it easy for her. According to The Paris Wife, he wanted her to be one and all things to him; drinking buddy, lover, fan, caretaker, and understanding wife who stood by while he had affairs.

I find it incredibly sad the way it is impossible to talk about her without talking about him. I think it’s because he was such an imposing figure hanging over Hadley’s life. She was all consumed with him and his success, so much that her own life withered away while they were married.  

But reading The Paris Wife, you understand her and her struggle to find her own place in the world. It’s a struggle many of our mother’s and grandmother’s went through and that a lot of us still deal with today. And I thank Hadley for paving the road.