Green Hills of Africa - Ernest Hemingway

I'm starting to think I enjoy Hemingway's non-fiction more than his novels. The real people he knows are frequently less irritating than the ones he makes up. Green Hills of Africa is his recollection of a particular hunting trip to Africa. The primary external conflict is Hemingway struggling to land a bull kudu before the rainy season arrives and they have to pack it in. The internal conflict is the strain the repeated failures and complications cause in him. There's another hunter along with them, a fellow named Karl, who consistently gets the best example of whatever species they're hunting, but never seems satisfied with it, or with his shooting. Then add Hemingway's struggles with jealousy, and that makes Karl that much less pleased with his trophies, because he can tell his friend isn't happy.

In the end, the two aren't really very different. They each have some animal they're trying very hard to get, and as time runs out, they each get more frustrated with those around them. Karl's a little different in that he doesn't like to have people watch him shoot, whereas Hemingway doesn't mind if people are watching, so long as they don't spoil his shot. Karl seems to feel other people rush his shot, while Hemingway is rarely rushed by anyone other than himself. Maybe a little too eager to show off.

One thing about Hemingway's writing that impresses me is how interested he can get me in things I ordinarily don't care about. I don't care much for bullfighting, but Death in the Afternoon was a fascinating read. The scene with the marlin was probably the best part of Islands in the Stream. Jake and Bill's fishing trip in the mountains was certainly my favorite part of The Sun Also Rises. The way he wrote it, I could feel how perfectly relaxing and pleasant it was to be out in nature, just relaxing with a friend, fishing, enjoying some good food and drink. He pulls that off again here. That quiet tension as they pursue a rhino or a buffalo into high grass, the awe and excitement when they finally see it. I don't hunt, but I do enjoy target shooting, and I know that moment before the shot, when you're trying hard to remain calm and concentrate, just shoot the way you know you can.

One of the other things, beyond conveying the mood and emotion of a moment, is how well he describes places, so I can picture it well. Maybe I'm not seeing the huge salt lick as it was, or as he saw it, but there's a clear picture of sorts in my mind. You may have noticed, I don't spend a lot of time on setting in my stories. I think about it, but it always feels so irrelevant compared to describing the action or trying to come up with some decent dialogue that I only make a sort of half-assed attempt at it, if that. Plus, I always worry those stories get too long as it is. I suppose I ought to spend more time thinking it all through ahead of time, so I had a clearer picture in my head I could try and describe to you.