Ken Burns and Lynn Novick have a new film. This latest collaboration is more a biography than a sweeping concept. It concerns the life of Ernest Hemingway. Apparently, according to the filmmakers, the Hemingway most people know is not the real person. The toxic masculinity often associated with the great American author was more an image rather than the reality. There are some questions, too, about some of the more sensational stories connected with Hemingway's life.
Today, that is not all that surprising. We live in a time of revision, so anything that is suddenly revealed to contradict conventional wisdom is generally taken as less astonishing than one might expect. I expect no change in the position taken on Hemingway's writing. His work stands alone and remains strong. To be sure, Hemingway has his fans and his detractors, but he is, arguably one of the greatest American authors of the 20th century.
I taught a few Hemingway novels in my day. For adolescents, they are both readable and tolerable. Some contain valuable historical perspectives. His sparse style is useful for students struggling to find a writing voice that is often clogged with convoluted verbiage.
Hemingway's short stories are often underappreciated in academic circles. He's been anthologized a good deal, and in my view, it is some of his best work.
When I think back to teaching Hemingway, one experience stands out. After being hired and laid off a few times, in the Fall of 1985, I returned to the high school where I spent most of my career. It was about 3 weeks into the school year when I received my classes and was able to settle into my assignment. For the first week, I had only 4 classes but was told another 9th grade English class would be soon created. It will be a small class, the administrators told me because it will be created from a few students from larger classes and a few late arrivals. The class, when I finally met them had about 15 students. On a typical day, about 10-12 would attend. These kids, mostly male, were the rejects from the larger classes. They were entering the school year late because some had been in Juvenile Hall. Others had been expelled from other districts. It was my last class of the day. Unexpectedly, it became a pleasure to teach these kids. Because there were not 35 students in the room, the energy was different. We'd sit in a circle and take turns reading, discussing, and sharing ideas. This class may have been all male. I can't quite remember, but to the best of my recollection, it fits with their profile. I wanted to get them to buy into the idea that reading and thinking deeply about literature was worthwhile. I also wanted them to have some success. For those reasons and a few others, I chose Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea.
I read with and to them. Reading to younger students in high school probably isn't done enough. I'd be less than honest if I didn't say I had to convince this group that this was a novel they'd enjoy and relate to. I gave it my all. So much teaching is engaging an unwilling audience. I once read a survey that found the number one quality of an effective teacher is a flair for the dramatic. I emoted. As I later told a colleague, "I taught the hair off that book." In the end, I'm fairly sure those kids learned a little more than the plot of a novel where an old man catches a big fish, only to lose it to sharks.
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