I finally got around to reading Hemingway’s stories of living in 1920s Paris and while I have to admit that I got lost in some of the chapters, for the most part I loved Hemingway’s descriptions of the setting in Paris on any given day – the details of the walks he would take from a cafe where he was writing to his home or what he would eat when he was dining with a fellow writer or trips he would take with his wife to Austria or Spain. The book makes me want to read other stories about the writers living in Paris during the 20s like Fitzgerald, Stein, Pound, and Ford.
The title is explained in the foreword. Mary Hemingway derives it from a remark made by her husband [Ernest] to Aaron Hotchner: “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
I loved this explanation, not only because I now finally understand what this book is all about after hearing so much about it, but because it made me think about what my own moveable feast is and it’s London. I moved to London three months after I graduated from college and the six months that I spent there have stayed with me more than four years in college. London started out as unknown territory to me but I felt so liberated there and enjoyed it and the new people I met and the new experiences I had so much so that I always think about the city and it will always hold a special place in my heart.
What’s your moveable feast?