A Farwell to Arms – review

A Farwell to Arms
Ernest Hemingway
Vintage Classics £7.99 pp.293

Wait please. Be patient. Enjoy the moment.

If you are in a rush for the extraordinary, then Hemingway’s Farwell to Arms is not for you.

I know it is a story about war and love, I know.

But it is told in the most ordinary way it is possible to write about war and love.

Few deaths. Few battles. No suspense. Little drama. A love so simple as it were if real.

And I am sorry to tell: that is the best of it.

The story goes on in the north Italian mountains, during the war against Austria, in 1917.

The storyteller is Frederic Henry – much of Hemingway himself –, an American voluntary driving an ambulance in the Italian army.

Through Henry, Hemingway portrays the lives of common soldiers who are more worried about the coming whores than with the outcome of the battles.

But the war stories are just an excuse to tell a poignant narrative, one of his best, on human love.

Above all things, this is a story about love.

A love between il Tenente and Catherine Barkley, an American nurse. A love that is not a fairy tale. Nor even a burning desire at first sight.

Hemingway made this love perfectly real. His vigorous verve, short of full of conversation and action, just helped to make Farewell to Arms seem more banal.

But do not let yourself to be deceived for that is what makes it so moving.

When you reach to the last lines of the book, the ones that confessedly took him loads of tries, then you can understand it.

You will turn the pages back and start to read it again. Every dialogue about Henry’s bear, about Cat’s clothes, will catch your eye. And you will wish that gone-banality of a simple love would last forever.

When you know it won’t, you will be too dry to weep and too hollow to go on. And you will fell like joining Henry for a night walk in the rain.

Hugo Filipe Coelho

assessed work

The Last Zapatistas

He has dressed up his big moustache, raised the front of his Mexican hat and checked well-greased Colt before putting it in the waist belt…

Now, Pedro Moreno is ready to roam defiantly around the dusty streets of Tepoztlan or hide in the green sugar cane fields.

He doesn’t go far this time. 90-year old Pedro stays swinging in the chair at his doorstep and dozes on the adventures of when he was a Zapatista.

And he is not alone. There is also Emeterio Pantaleon, Severino Neves and others. They are the followers of Zapata the revolutionary chief who put down governments and Presidents in the years after the Revolution 1910 in Mexico.

In the state of Morelos, southern Mexico, the old Zapatistas hide together from the Mexico that has already buried their Revolution and their Comandante.

‘Cause they have not! For them Zapata is still alive.

There was once one that swore the chief was dead. It was Jesus Chavez, former general, who escaped the shooting in Chimaneco, where Zapata was taken, and brought back As de Carreau, Zapata’s horse.

But one does not make up the mind of a Zapatista like that. One believes in what on wants to believe. The old general “wasn’t well anymore”, they say. And Revolution went along with their lives.

The old Zapatistas have become poor peasants of big moustaches and thick eyebrows. But they still wear the military outfits and kept the fierceness of character. And their stories of past fighting days have the smell of gunpowder of revolution.

Revolutionary stories of old guerrileros

The revolutionary tale of Emeretio Pantaleon, 87, began when he was fourteen. “They took me by force”, he recalls. “We were ‘pacificos’, not Zapatistas. We cried when they took us away.”

Emeretio was watching the cows near a ravine when he was taken with 5000 other children. The Zapatistas gathered them at Chilapa and distributed them among the generals.

Later, Emeretio redeemed from his fearful start and was made a Colonel.

For Severino Neves to become to become a fighter, though, it only took a meeting with Morales, The One-eyed.

Morales was a quarrelsome man who had lost his eye in a duel. In 1911, he was in prison in Chiautala when the first

Zapatistas attacked the village and freed him. One-eyed joined the Revolution and took with him 45 excited men from the village. One of them was Severino.

Though the “once upon a time” is different for every Zapatista, their tales of revolutionary adventures are the same.
When time comes to remember the battles they all talk of El Parque – weapons.

The weapons told the rank of the guerrillero. They went form the machete – used for cutting sugar cane – to riffles 30 and Mauser guns, exclusive for the top officials. “Mausers don’t heat up, there is wood under de canon. But the 30 burned so much you had to hold it with a rag”, says Severino.

The lack of weapons was a main obsession of the ten years of warfare. In fact, the Zapatistas did much of their revolutions with their cutting sugar canes. Severino remembers joining troops of 7000 men when only 3000 had weapons.

Having a machete was not that bad as it seems, though. Bullets were missing most of the time and the guerrilleros went on looking for them everyplace.

But to survive the ten years of guerrilla warfare it wasn’t enough to avoid the bullets of others and find bullets to put the enemy down. It was necessary to fight against famine and epidemics, too.

There were times, when the government troops waited for the men of Zapata around the watering places, they got so thirsty their “tongues stick out”. As for hunger no one even wants to talk about it.

But a Zapatista doesn’t hide the proves of suffering. They are proud to let somebody see the marks of their revolution. When Pedro Moreno shows is deformed by a bullet, Emeretio, not to stay behind, counts his 14 scars.

Those, their outfits and guns and their stories are what is left of their Revolution.

In Mexico the heroes of Revolution have no more value today. Zapata and his men have been buried once and for all with official honours. They have their place in paragraphs in history books and election speeches, and give their names to squares and streets.

But the old Zapatistas of Tepoztlan, man of big moustaches, military outfits and 1913th guns, will rather live a deceiving faith than in a meaningless truth of forgetfulness.

Revolution lives in them.

Viva Zapata! Viva! Viva!

Hugo Filipe Coelho

assessed work

Benazir, the Sultana

She had just come back and ten days later her father, prime minister of Pakistan, was arrested and condemned to death.

Her sister and two brothers fled abroad but she stayed for him. Some days before execution, she was able to see him, speak with him and say goodbye. He said: “Be courageous Pinkie. We will meet again in the after world”.

Those words still echo inside her. “I had no choice, so many people claiming to take the place of my father”, says Benzamir Bhutto.

“This is not the life I chose. It chose me.”

Benzamir Bhutto has returned to Pakistan last month to fulfil her destiny. She was received with tears, waving flags and a bomb with her name written on it. She escaped but 126 people were destined to die in her place.

After an eight-year exile Bhutto still flames devotion and hatred in the Pakistanis.

Twice prime minister, both the times she was dismissed of office under charges of mismanagement and corruption. She now returned for a third attempt as Washington’s favourite name to share power with general Musharaf and balance its lack of popularity.

He would stay in the Presidency, she would take the command the government and the Pakistanis nuclear weapon would remain out of reach for Islamic fundamentalist hands.

But half the way plans changed. Benazir was not made to be a puppet, even less one condemned to lose.

As Musharaf raised the nation against him, Benzamir joined her voice with Nawaz Sharif, her democratic rival, to call for a coalition against the dictatorship and a government of national salvation.

Her father told her always to lay all my cards on the table. “And I always lay all my cards on the table”.

This is Bhutto defiant, opportunistic, cynical, starved of power. Was she destined to be like that?

Princess of the East

Born in 1953, she was named Benzamir, The Incomparable.

She was brought up at the knee of her father on the tales Bhutto’s political dynasty and dreamed to be a princess of the 1001 Nights.

But Bhutto was made a western woman.

She was raised by an English governess and hanged around the famous English colonial clubs.

At the age of 16, the golden cradle got too small and she left to Harvard and then to Oxford.

Life abroad was roaring enough for Dean himself. She drove a yellow cabriolet, rioted against the Vietnam War and for the women rights though she never set her bra on fire.

When she got back to Pakistan she was not a woman anymore. “I was a saint!”

A Saint she may had become for Pakistanis but she was neither holy nor pure.

Dirty Politics

Bhutto always accepted her so-told destiny and made the most it. Bhutto’s life was a never-ending seek for power.

She often compares herself to Queen Elizabeth. Their character is alike. Fragile on the inside – Bhutto devours self-help books –, but glaring icy, tough and ruthless.

Bhutto was elected prime minister at the age of 35, becoming the first woman and the youngest in the office in Modern Islam.

The government of the Sultana only lasted two years but she seized power again in 1993. The second try, was more dramatic.

Bhutto is said to have ordered the assassination of her mother and brother, who had turned against her.

Besides, corruption spread wild under her government and Bhutto and her husband – the investment minister known has Mr 10%, for robbing the countries finances – were charged.

He was imprisoned, tortured and almost died. She made away and left him behind.

Twelve years have passed since those days. Now, Bhutto returned.

She is free of charges – Musharaf just put them down – fresh and hypocrite as always.

Musharaf was her first victim. She dropped the general to make an alliance with her democratic rival, the one who almost killed her beloved husband.

How long is that going to last? Until her need says so.

Elections will be held next January and the Sultana is running for office. She doesn’t even care that the constitution forbids a third term.

“If the people vote for my party and parliament elects me as prime minister, it would be an honour to take up the role”, she said to The Times.

It is Bhutto’s destiny to rule, to rule over Pakistan. That is the truth of her life.

“My life mirrors the life of Pakistan.”

 

Ernest

Revolutionary French on strike against Sarkozy

I was missing a great strike for some time. Nothing would better reward my patience than a strike a la francaise, une petite revolution.

That is what is happening today. “France is bracing for strike chaos”. Accoding to the BBC, transport workers are striking against Sarkozy’s pension reforms.

In other words, Monsieur le President is desmantling the French social state – a task as difficult as the jobs of Hercules – and it is obvioulsly facing the outrage of the french workers.

Predictable this was, actually. He had promised it before and he was elected. Today he just promised to keep his promises.

I am seriously looking forward to see where this is going to end. Not this strike particularly, but this presidency.

The revolutionary French people have chosen to put in Le Eliseu a revolutionary president. The problem is that, though they share the temperament, they lack the consent.

Allez enfants de la patrie…

Ernest

“I love you but you’re green” II

The environmental craze is going hilarious these days.

Firstly, a high court British judge stated that the Inconvenient Truth has 9 inconvenient scientific errors and is inconveniently biased. In the end, the judge decided the documentary should be shown to secondary students provided it went along with some fresh guidance notes to balance Mr Gore’s “one sided” and “apolitical” views.

I am not saying the judge is right. The Guardian was ready to point out the anti-environmental motives and power of the man behind those who brought the case against the documentary to court. I truly believe it. I just wanted that, instead of denouncing a devil, they would show whether the devil is wrong…

The most comical of all, though came from the other side of the ocean, from the land of opportunities. According to The Guardian , Hilary Clinton’s campaign staff has admitted to have planted a tame question on climatic change in an audience the runner for the US Presidency was addressing, in Iowa. The story went like this:

‘After Clinton spoke, a student in the crowd was invited to pose a question. “As a young person, I’m worried about the long-term effects of global warming. How does your plan combat climate change?” the student asked.

Clinton replied: “Well, you should be worried. You know, I find as I travel around Iowa that it’s usually young people who ask me about global warming.’ (The Guardian, 12th November 2007)

And I still hope she (or Obama) wins the election…

Ernest

“I love you but you’re green”

It is now due one month since Al Gore was awarded the Noble Prize for Peace but the ex-future President of the USA seems to be stuck to newspapers’ pages.

Just look for his name in the Guardian and you will check there are almost more entries for him than for George Bush, the president to become history.

I have tried myself hard to understand this phenomena but I feel I have just failed terribly.

My ignorance and blindness began the day the green prophet won the Noble. When I listened to the news in the morning radio bulletin I strived to visualize a dying American soldier in Iraq asking for forgiveness to the Almighty and thanking to the new environmental saint, but I failed utterly.

I thought the problem was with the American soldier. So, I moved to Africa. I strove very hard to imagine a Sudanese refugee wishing the documentary had come out one year before while being raped in truns by three militia men. I failed again.

Frankly, I don’t see how did Al Gore’s environmentalist endeavour either encouraged fraternity between nations, reduced the armies or promoted peace congresses.

I don’t realize what extraordinary things has he done to be in the news all the time besides enriching rather quickly.

I need to ask you people: what has Al Gore told you new? Didn’t you know already the ice was melting, the polar bears were drowning and the planet was warming? Have you started to divide the rubbish between the colourful bins on your way back home from the cinema?

Al Gore has certainly done something for the Earth planet. He has echoed the long lasting scientific alarms in the big screen, playing the role of the Hollywood star, making it simple, colourful and stupid, for everyone to understand. By doing this he raised awareness for the climatic risks humankind is facing in the future and promote change of people’s mentalities. That is true, but that is the all truth.

Unfortunately…

 

Ernest