Ernest Hemingway, a central fixation of the literary world for nearly a century, was a complicated man. Some laud him for his talent, others scrutinize him for his personal affairs, and yet others are caught up in the glamour of his life with the literati. In all of this, however, it seems as though dear Ernest before The Sun Also Rises didn’t exist, and so the question remains as to how the Hemingway we know ultimately came to be. To Paula McLain, the answer to this question is unequivocally Elizabeth Hadley Richardson.
From the quiet, unassuming, unfashionably American Hadley, McLain draws a story that flourishes. McLain, in making Hadley the heroine of a story packed with other viable options, takes the glamour and the glitz and the overwhelming nature of Hemingway’s life amongst the 1920s Paris literary and boils it all down to the heartbreak of one woman—one average woman to whom any reader could relate.
In all fairness, this is not the reader’s first chance to encounter Hemingway’s less-than-famous first wife; many of the letters, writings, and conversations represented in McLain’s work can be found in some of Hemingway’s own work, most notably A Moveable Feast. McLain’s Hadley, however, demands attention in a way that she previously has not. Hadley grabs at the reader’s deepest emotional cords and pulls them right into the action; she asks us to see with her, breathe with her, feel with her. We’re in that tiny apartment, waiting for hours on end for an emotionally unstable husband who is more likely than not drunk and frustrated. We’re standing beside her, eight months pregnant, with the wind of a hundred bulls blowing past us on the streets of Spain. We’re there, on the cobblestone of a small Paris street, hearts wrenched in pain and eyes sore from tears as Hemingway’s mistress walks away. McLain’s Hadley isn’t filtered or constrained, and she doesn’t give the reader an option—from her very first words, we’re as much a part of the story as she is, and there is no way out but through.
This Hadley is her own woman, but she is also the woman behind the Hemingway who occupies such a large space in literary history. It is Hadley who supported their move to Paris, who used a tiny inheritance to feed herself and Hemingway and, eventually, their son as words poured on to pages without seeing a cent in return. It is Hadley, so notably absent from the author’s later years of both success and turmoil, who enabled the Hemingway we have come to know, and rightfully—finally—it is Hadley who gets her turn in McLain’s best-selling must-read.
