America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Hemingway hasn't been in a good mood lately.

He just turned 30 this year, and in September of this year, he published "A Farewell to Arms," ​​which received a very good market response and was once again praised by the media as a representative figure of this generation of writers.

At this time, he had been married to his second wife for two years and had moved back to the United States from Europe.

These days, his daily routine consists of fishing, drinking, and daydreaming.

That afternoon, he was drinking rum in a bar when he casually picked up a newspaper.

A newspaper article was published under the title "Columbia University Speech: Young Journalist Challenges the Press." The article provided a detailed account of Arthur's speech at Columbia University, quoting many of his points.

Hemingway was drinking and reading when, halfway through, he suddenly sat up straight.

"News has always been a weapon. The key is not whether news is a weapon, but for whom this weapon serves."

"If the news serves the powerful and wealthy, it is a tool of oppression. If the news serves the public, it is a force for liberation."

Hemingway put down his glass and read it again. He felt that these words expressed what he had always wanted to say but hadn't been able to articulate clearly.

He recalled his days working for the Toronto Star.

At that time, he was a young journalist, mainly trying to make a living, but also wanting to write something truthful and impactful. However, his editors always demanded that he be "objective and neutral" and not "indulge in personal feelings."

The results of it?

His reports, while conforming to journalistic norms, were lifeless. They failed to move people or change reality; they were merely a collection of cold, impersonal words.

Later, he gave up journalism and turned to novels.

He discovered that although novels are fictional, they can express a deeper truth.

Now, this young man named Arthur Kennedy seems to have found a new way, a way to combine journalism and literature.

Hemingway continued reading.

The article quotes a dialogue from Arthur's *Yes, Mayor*. Hemingway couldn't help but laugh after reading it.

This satire, this humor, this precise portrayal of the bureaucratic system reminded him of the works of French satirists he had read in Paris.

But Arthur's writing is more direct and powerful than those works.

Hemingway ordered another drink.

He thought of the novel he had recently been writing. It was a story about war, about a young man's experiences on the battlefield.

He wanted to write about the reality of war, about the fear, despair, and absurdity it evoked.

But he couldn't find a suitable way.

He tried traditional narrative techniques, but always felt they were too bland. He tried stream of consciousness, but found them too obscure.

Now, after reading Arthur's article, he suddenly had an inspiration. Perhaps he could use a more direct and concise approach.

No need for fancy words or complicated structures. Just present the truth and let the reader experience it for themselves.

Hemingway finished his drink and stood up.

He decided to write a letter to the young man.

He wanted to tell him that his articles were not just good news, but also good literature. He wanted to tell him that he had found a new way of expression, a way that could penetrate reality. He wanted to tell him to keep writing and not to be swayed by the attacks.

Hemingway returned to his lodgings and sat down at his typewriter.

He lit a cigar and started typing.

【Dear Mr. Kennedy:】

I read about you in a bar in Key West.

I must say, your article deeply moved me. I don't know you, and you probably don't know me either.

But I greatly admire your writing. I feel that we are kindred spirits in some ways. We are both searching for a way to express the truth of this world.

You are not writing in an ivory tower, but fighting on a battlefield, facing real power, real oppression, and real lies. And you are using words as weapons to attack them.

This takes courage. I know what courage is because I've seen real courage on the battlefield.

Those soldiers who charged through the gunfire, those who held their ground in the face of death, were brave.

But your courage is just as valuable as theirs, because the enemy you face is equally powerful and equally dangerous.

However, your enemies are not those with guns and cannons, but those with money and power. Your battlefield is not on the front lines, but in the newspapers.

But the essence of the battles is the same: they are all for truth, for justice, and for those who are oppressed.

Using fictional dialogue to present reality is a very clever approach.

Because the truth is often hidden and invisible. If you only report the surface facts, readers will only see the tip of the iceberg.

But if you use fiction to present the part beneath the iceberg, readers can see the complete truth.

This reminds me of my own writing. I write novels, which are fictional. But I've always believed that good novels are more real than true reports.

Because novels can delve into the inner world of characters, reveal the essence of events, and express things that cannot be expressed by facts.

Those reports attacking you, though claiming to be "objective and neutral," are false. They conceal the truth, whitewash reality, and serve the powerful and wealthy.

You have given me hope. There are still people in this world who speak the truth, who fight for justice, and who use words to change reality.

I'm currently writing a novel, a novel about war. After reading your article, I have new ideas for my writing.

Perhaps one day, we can meet and talk about writing, about reality, about this absurd world.

Until then, please continue fighting.

good luck,

Ernest Hemingway

September 1929, 11]

Hemingway read the letter and thought it was quite good. He put it in an envelope and wrote the address of the New York Herald, which he had seen in the newspaper.

Suddenly, he stopped, took the letter out of the envelope, and added a sentence at the end.

[P.S.: I've decided to come to New York to see you.]

I'd like to talk to you in person. There are some things that just can't be said in a letter.

I should be able to get to New York in about three or four days. I'll look for you at the New York Herald then.

Looking forward to meeting you.

Hemingway went outside, dropped the letter into the mailbox, and then immediately returned to his lodgings to begin packing. He decided to leave the next day.

The Key West sun was warm, but what he needed wasn't warmth, but excitement. And New York clearly provided that excitement.

He then picked up a glass of rum from his home, filled it to the brim, and waved in the direction of New York:

"Let's fight together, Kennedy!"