This book is interesting. It is a fictionalized account of Hadley Richardson, the first wife of Ernest Hemingway. I bet you know this story even if you know nothing about Hemingway. He marries Hadley when he is a flat broke, unpublished, struggling writer. She supports him, puts up with his novelist nonsense, gives birth to his son and then gets dumped for another woman right about the time his career takes off.
Of course, you know something is going to happen to the marriage from page one. The author's intention (I think) is just to write about their years as a young married couple in Paris. She does a great job with this. But here's the problem : I know the mistress, homewrecker, heifer is coming. For me, she haunts every page.
Reading this book was a very emotional experience for me. (I know. I know. Everything is an emotional experience for me. Whatever.) I realize that I view my memories of Ryan just this same way. All the memories that should be sweet to me are made bitter by her. She has become the lense through which I view our entire marriage. It shouldn't be this way.
If you had a marriage ruined by a lying, adulterous hoebag, you might want to skip this book. If not, you will probably love it.
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