The whole concept of acquiring the taste to read is bizzare with respect to the context of my blog; nevertheless I found out, the hard way, that sometimes one needs to acquire a certain taste to tackle an entry on the reading list. Ernest Hemmingway is and will always remain a celebrated Nobel Laureate as long as human memory persists. My mother warned me saying,'Hemmingway is an acquired taste, you may not like him'. I still went ahead and read 'For Whom the Bell Tolls', Hemmingway's ode to the Spanish civil war written in a moderate undertone. I predicted a more explosive and heartbreakingly tragic end to the book than the one Hemmingway put forth. Besides,diva that I am, I am not particularly fond of lucid undertones in literature.
I now understand people who dislike Marquez. A lot of readers feel 'cheated' after reading 'One Hundred Years of Solitude'. I wouldn't go far enough to accuse Hemmingway of 'cheating' but I will go far enough to say that I couldn't immerse myself in his work. If it takes time to get accustomed to wine then Hemmingway must be like Sherry, dry yet burning on the inside. I have decided to forgo my quest of discovering Hemmingway through his work. I am reading 'Sons and Lovers' by D.H. Lawrence for consolation.