Hemingway Can Be Funny
Who knew? I read this while in a little Lebanese cafe/restaurant a little ways off from Grafton Street and spent so much time laughing out loud that I grew concerned about what the small clientele might think. But not so concerned that I didn't keep laughing.
from A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition
"I just came in to have a drink. What's wrong with that?"
"At home they'd serve you and then break the glass."
"Where's home? It sounds like a charming place.". . .
"Suppose you wanted to be a writer and feel it in every part of your body and it just wouldn't come."
I went on writing and I was beginning to have luck now as well as the other thing.
"Suppose once it had come like an irresistible torrent and then it left you mute and silent."
Better than mute and noisy, I thought, and went on writing. He was in full cry now and the unbelievable sentences were soothing as the noise of a plank being violated in the sawmill.
"We went to Greece," I heard him say later. I had not heard him for some time except as noise. I was ahead now and I could leave it and go on tomorrow.
"You say you used it or you went there?"
"Don't be vulgar," he said. "Don't you want me to tell you the rest?"
"No," I said. I closed the notebook and put it in my pocket.
"Don't you care how it came out?"
"Don't you care about life and the suffering of a fellow human being?"
"I thought you could help me, Hem."
"I'd be glad to shoot you."
"No. There's a law against it."