Hemingway (Not Ernest, but Mariel.)

Encounters with Writers: 3

Yes, I know. This does seem like blatant name-dropping, I know. And perhaps it is. But bear with me. Before we talk about Mariel, we need to talk about her grandfather.

If you’ve met me and spoken to me about things literary for any length of time, or even if you’ve just read my fourth novel, No Relation, you may know that I have a fascination with Paris of the 1920s. If I could travel back in time—and I’m a wide-eyed optimist so I’m not ruling out the future possibility—my first port-of-call would be Paris in the ‘20s. It was a special time in the world, but particularly in Paris. In the wake of the Great War and all its horrors, ex-pat writers and artists flocked to Paris from England, the U.S. and Canada, among other nations, and changed the literary and cultural landscape of the time. Ernest Hemingway is arguably the titan most closely associated with this “Lost Generation” of writers, though F. Scott Fitzgerald is certainly a contender for the crown.

I should say clearly and early, that I am not a fan of Hemingway’s writing. I never have been. (I also find many other aspects of his personality, actions and decisions over the course of his life to be quite objectionable, if not abhorrent, though it is unlikely that my disapproval would have had any impact on his behaviour. No one else’s at the time seemed to.) My ear and mind just do not connect with his spare, barren, simple prose. After all, as I have said before, I hail from the “why use six words when twelve will do” school of writing. I like to splash around in our bountiful, beautiful language. So Hemingway’s prose just doesn’t resonate with me. However, no one can dispute that he, among others, revolutionized fiction at a time when change was sweeping through our culture and society. So for many years now, I’ve been alternately fascinated and obsessed with learning about this great historic city and era just to satisfy my hyperactive curiosity. So while I don’t often read Hemingway, I read about him… a lot.

I have amassed a shelf of books about Paris in the 1920s, to which I regularly add.

Some of the books in our library devoted to Paris in the 1920s.

And to continue the theme, mounted on the wall right next to where I sit and write in our library, is a large, framed, 1928 map of Paris. I often pause and examine the Latin Quarter streets and neighbourhoods that Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Callaghan and so many others frequented.

My fourth novel, No Relation, is narrated by a middle-age advertising copywriter named Earnest Hemmingway. You’ll note that both his first and last names are spelled differently than the famous American writer’s, hence the novel’s title. Hem, as he’s known in the story, is trying to write his first novel, but is suffering from writer’s block, which he blames on the spirit of the writer, Ernest Hemingway, haunting him. At one point in the novel, the narrator travels to Paris, among other locales, as part of the Ernest Hemingway Exorcism World Tour. The idea is to cure his writer’s block by tracing the footsteps of Hemingway the writer and, in a way, confronting his spirit on his own turf. This novel allowed me to indulge my interest in Paris and Hemingway.

In fact, there’s a scene in No Relation set in the famous Left Bank café, Les Deux Magots, where Hemingway liked to write. In fact, his favourite table is marked by his photo hanging on the wall behind it. When I was writing No Relation in 2013, Nancy and I visited Paris—as we do at least every other year—and I wrote that particular scene while seated not just in Les Deux Magots, but at Hemingway’s table, to boot. I waited for quite a while until an American couple finished their lunch. As they rose to leave, I was standing far too close to them to ensure my claim on the Hemingway table. One does what one has to do.

Writing the scene in No Relation set in Les Deux Magots, while sitting at Hemingway’s favourite table in Les Deux Magots. How meta is that?

In the fall of 2014, No Relation was chosen as the One Book, One New Tecumseth community selection in, yes, you guessed it, New Tecumseth. When all the festivities were over, they presented me with this very cool memento. It hangs in our library.

Ernest Hemingway deeply engrossed in a certain Canadian novel.

I would have died happy winning the Leacock Medal once. But miracle of miracles, No Relation also won in 2015. I was not expecting it. I had convinced myself, bolstered by loads of powerful reasons, that it was just not in the cards for me that year. So the shock of winning again was considerable.

Just after No Relation was announced as the 2015 Leacock Medal winner. In case it’s not clear, the green guy is Stephen Leacock himself.

I know what you’re thinking. Where’s Mariel? Okay, okay, I’m just coming to that part. In August of 2016, out of the blue, I got a call from Linda Leatherdale, former business editor at the Toronto Sun who had just read No Relation. She loved the novel and kindly invited me to a very special lunch at the ritzy Four Seasons Hotel. She was spending the day escorting Academy Award Best Supporting Actress nominee, Mariel Hemingway, to a round of media interviews in Toronto. They had some downtime in the middle of the day and Linda thought I might like to join Mariel Hemingway and her for lunch, and present Mariel with a copy of No Relation, given the strong Hemingway connection. I said yes before she’d even finished her sentence.

I remember very little about the lunch beyond my difficulty in constructing complete sentences. But I do recall that Mariel could not have been nicer and more down to earth. To shake hands with someone who shares DNA with Ernest Hemingway was quite a thrill. We took a photo after the lunch and you can tell by the goofy, giddy look on my mug that I was not quite myself. (Ironing my shirt before heading out to lunch with a celebrity might also have been a good idea.) Fortunately, no one looking at the photo will be focused on me.

Post-lunch photo with Mariel Hemingway. And yes, she is that tall (I’m 6’).

When we were setting up the photo, she insisted that I put my arm around her. (I’d like to think that’s just the effect I have on people, but that’s really just the casual, warm and welcoming kind of person Mariel Hemingway is.) I felt a little uncomfortable putting my arm around her waist, so if you look really closely, you’ll see my left hand hovering just off of her waist. We had a lovely lunch and great conversation.

I inscribed a copy of No Relation and gave it to her, and then Mariel kindly signed a copy of her recent book for me.

I’m now in the middle of writing my ninth novel, and it may come as no surprise that Paris figures in it, as well. While not autobiographical—none of my novels is autobiographical—my narrator, Jack McMaster, shares my interest in 1920s Paris and ends up living there for five months to indulge this fascination and to recover from a significant loss in his life. So Paris continues to occupy my mind, and those of my characters. We write about what interests us.

Stay tuned for more dispatches from my writing life.