even though catastrophe was aroundnevery corner. He anticipated all but one:nhe could not have known how VaticannII would knock “the guts out of me.”nIt was a fine trial, and perhaps a necessarynone. lest he give more emphasisnto the nonessentials than they deserved,nHe clung to his faith doggedly if withoutnjoy. Perhaps the absence of joy wouldnhave been temporary. We will nevernknow. As if to lend a well-earned gracento a true friend on his parting, the Lordncalled him on Easter Sundav. April 10,n1966.nvJne is still best advised to trust thentale, not the teller. Thus, with respectnto our understanding of Hemingwaynthe artist, these letters are of limitednvalue; they appear to widen the distancenbetween the man and his fiction. It isnobvious that Hemingway did not havenone eye on the future when writingnthem. He was sincere in advising Scribner’snto ”take great care that nobody”ngot hold of them. They are “often libelous,nalways indiscreet, often obscenenand many of them would make greatntrouble.” They were written, I suspect,nas a way of keeping a link with thenworlds from which he often retreated;n”I am very shy.” They served as well asna way of unloading the burdens of hisnpsyche without a presence in the roomnfor whom he would have had to put onnone of his few masks. From well overn6000 letters Baker has selected somen600, meant to be typical of the periodsnof his life. It is impossible to say hownrepresentative they actually are. It appearsnas if the dark side of Hemingwaynis less represented than it might havenbeen. One can guess that his wives arenspared his private comments on them.nFor the most part they are ad persona,nas a familiar letter should be, hurriedlynwritten and full of dated detail; theynwere not intended to be more than that.nYet, taken together, they do providensome new information about the personalitynif not the artist, except insofarnas the personality stands in some relationshipn(behind.”) to the artist. Whatnwe have is “the figure under the carpet.”nMost evidently, the letters present anman of myriad contradictions: the shynbraggart, the sentimental bully, the generousnand ruthless friend, the truthfulnliar, the courageous hypochondriac, thenpatriotic anarchist, the superstitiousnbeliever. Vocationed into the lonelynworld of words, he lusted for the worldnof action. Overbearing with sycophants,nhe was deferential to those from whomnhe might gain something. Proudly denfiant of death, his nights were fillednwith fear. A passionate lover of life, henwas a suicide. “A man without any ambition,nexcept to be champion of thenworld. . . . the only thing I ever wantednto be.” This complex dance of tanglednopposites is the key to understanding hisnmuch-misunderstood politics, a subjectnwhich looms large in the letters. Whatnis one to make of a man, “being a capitalist,”nwho prayed for the election ofnCoolidge ahd cast his only vote ever fornPresident for Eugene Debs? A man whongot “conservative in politics” becausen”we’d be horses asses if we weren’t” andnwho kissed the Cuban flag, post-Castro,nto prove he was a true Cuban.” A mannwho felt revolutions inevitably got corrupted,nand who believed completelyn[if not finally] in the historical necessitynof the Cuban revolution”? ScottnDonaldson (By Force of Will) providesna summary, true for the most part, butntoo neat by half.nFrom adolescence to old age, his ideasnwere remarkably consistent. To giventhem a contemporary label, they werenthe ideas of conservative Republicanism,nand were probably ingrained innHemingway as a young man by hisnRepublican parents and especially bynthe admired paternal grandfather whonnever in his life sat at a table knowinglynwith a democrat.nFirst off, it is necessary to understandnthat in the intellectual sense of the term,nhe had no politics. John Dos Passosnwas correct in saying that Hemingwaynnnhad no consistent political ideas. “Don’tnever ask me to think. I don’t think.” Thenstrain of anti-intellectualism. so evidentnin the fiction, is strong in the letters.nHe had, at best, political instincts ornintuitions, strikingly primitive and oftennsensible. He was a naif politique, a childnin the abstract world of concerns fornthe commonweal, at times a valuablendefense against fads.nAs for your fioping that the LeftwardnSwing etc has a very definite significancenfor me that is so much horseshit.nI do not follow the fashions innpolitics, letters, religion etc Therenis no left and right in writing. Therenis only good and bad writing.*nThe Green Hills of Africa made it clearnthat he could not serve societv or denmocracy or anything else. The writernmust be alone in a secret and tormentingnplace which admitted no loyalties exceptnto art. “The hardest job in the world”nis to write honestly about human beings;nto take politics as a way out “was cheating.”nA “true work of art endures for-n*All quotes from the letters are verbatim,nincluding errors in spelling and punctuation.n11nSeptember/October 1981n