To keep with the Hemingway kick. I've just finished "A Moveable Feast." I enjoyed it as mental masturbation. The book is seemingly plotless, but filled with that awesome narrative prose that Hemingway is notorious for. Read on...

The book recounts, with an air of fiction, Hemingway's personal experiences in Paris in the twenties. It was actually published after his death.

The book deals closely with Hemingway's relations with some of the art sheik of the time; Ezra Pound, Ford Maddox Ford, and Scott Fitzgerald just to name a few for the cocktail party. He offers his insights into their creative muse and work quality.

Probably most fascinating to literary pack rats is his introspective analysis of his own creative drive. He discusses the mood, places, and patterns that are condusive to good writing or any art. Sometimes I felt like it was a writer's howto.

It's this very happy, fullfilling book right up until the last page, when Hem, the scoundrel, dedicates one paragraph to his affair that violated the eden of a relationship he had with his adoring wife, Hadley. It's a particularly strong blow because if it's emotional and ethical contrast with the rest of the book where Ernie is well intentioned and aware.

The man has a real way of looking at things and making you look at them his way. It's fun stuff. This one is kind of like an Elvis Impersonator, fun and indicative of the real thing, but trying too hard.