I promise that the timing of this post is not intended in any way to contradict Zach. The fact that I have just finished this book and loved it is purely coincidental. The only gripe I have is with whoever proof-read this edition. Typos are not only present, but inexcusably pervasive. I think I'll write a letter to Scribner. Anyway, that has nothing to do with the actual content. Let's move on. On the back of the book (which is the first forty-nine stories, not the "complete" stories--I guess there are a few more since this book first came out in 1938 and Hemingway died in 1961), there is a quote from a review in the New Yorker by Clifton Fadiman, which says: "I don't see how you can go through this book without being convinced that Hemingway is the best short story writer...using English." That pretty much sums it up. I don't really know what to say that hasn't been said before. These stories are wonderful. Some aren't as good as others, but just about all of them are good, probably about 38 of them are very good, and at least a dozen are masterpieces. Some of my favories, off the top of my head, are Fifty Grand, The Killers, The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, Up in Michigan, Indian Camp, My Old Man, Wine of Wyoming, Fathers and Sons, A Pursuit Race, The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio, Ten Indians, The Three-Day Blow, Today is Friday, The End of Something, and of course Hills Like White Elephants. Ezra Pound called Hemingway "the finest prose stylist in the world." Of course Pound was always biased toward brevity, but I think he may have been right.
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