Review of Wrestling with Demons

One of my current writing projects deals with the myth of Hemingway. I’m still in the early stages, but there are a couple of sample vignettes. So far, in nonsequential order, I’ve explored his early childhood and life in Paris in the 20s. It is a fun thing to write, so hopefully I can find more time to churn more of it out. I should also mention that I am writing this review as I am reading it, so my opinions and views may change as I go on.

Mark Cirino and his team have the wonderful “One True Podcast” and have done amazing research into Hemingway the man. The most impressive part being that they identified the young man who was blown to bits next to Hemingway when the mortar hit that fateful day during World War I. Other than being dressed as a girl by his domineering mother, this was the first moment to really define Hemingway, both the man and the myth. This life-changing moment is also where Curtis DeBerg’s work begins.

It seems like there are currently two schools of thought regarding Hemingway. One is simply “F the haters, he’s awesome.’ The other is “he’s horrible, he glorifies alcoholism, toxic masculinity, everything wrong with the 20th century, and we should not treat bad men and bad authors with reverence.” The truth is somewhere in the middle, but don’t tell that to anyone who has either polarized opinion. DeBerg seeks to untangle the man and the myth, and in doing so kill the monster.

DeBerg postulates that Hemingway was consumed with fear and guilt that he would be found out for claiming stolen valor as related to World War I. DeBerg dismisses wound theory- that trauma or PTSD from the war affected Hemingway- and replaces this notion with a crippling anxiety from stolen valor. This argument assumes that a person who has stolen valor would experience guilt. By dismissing wound theory, survivor’s guilt is dismissed along with it. Would the kind of person who engages in false representation through stolen valor experience guilt… at all? I’m not convinced. Plenty of people have built their identities on lies. We’re all the hero, or at least protagonist, of our own story. But the idea that a man whose identity is based on stolen valor having such intense insecurities is a bridge too far for me.

The table of contents is coded in a way that will result in having to revisit it, probably a dozen or more times. The book is part biography, part memoir, and part historical fiction. On a meta level, is the book fiction or nonfiction? I’m not sure there is one answer. Maybe two thirds nonfiction, one third fiction? What is more, it is meant to put history beneath a new lens, so that through storytelling we can have a new insight into Hemingway. It may be that the historical fiction aspect helps to create a better truth than the previously accepted version of events. Whether or not that is true is up to the reader and what he or she takes away from the story.

The prologue is peppered with Hemingway facts and stories, interwoven with Curtis DeBerg’s own personal experiences. DeBerg is not just the author, he is the narrator, and the subject of the memoir. He promised memoirs, biography, and historical fiction. A few pages in, it is clear that the doctor will deliver. The book is not at all what I expected. On some level, I’d been expecting to read the beating of a dead horse with a new stick. What I got was something else entirely. I’m hooked.

A few more pages in, it is clear that the book is at least three books in one. There is a historical fiction book, which seems to be rooted in historical fact, when possible. Guess work as to conversation, and character motivation are the fictitious parts of that element. DeBerg’s personal memoirs are also included, which is more a search for Hemingway in the abstract than anything else. There is also a series of imagined conversations with Hemingway’s ghost. It is similar to the short book Coffee with Hemingway. As I peruse the first part of the book, I realize that I likely will be able to distinguish genres and will not have to constantly refer back to the table of contents, as I had previously expected.

DeBerg includes a cut passage from Green Hills of Africa. This is interesting in itself, as it is a rarely read nonfiction piece about hunting. That DeBerg was able to find an unused portion demonstrates the meticulousness of the research process. The piece details how Hemingway coped with his father’s suicide. Hemingway attributes the suicide to “cowardice” and talks about how he himself has experienced the same feelings. DeBerg is critical as to whether either man experienced cowardice, or if it were some other emotion. This ends up on a slippery slope, where the conclusion is that cowardice is a complex emotion and that Hemingway is not being fair or honest with his father or himself. Having read the actual excerpt, “cowardice” is generalized anxiety. Hemingway talks about experiencing it in important moments, but also as shower thoughts. He saw it in his father, too. Like any anxiety disorder, sometimes it runs wild, and sometimes it is under control. Green Hills came out in the very early 1930s and the historical context would be that psychology was still in infancy, so his substituting of the word cowardice for anxiety makes sense.

I enjoyed Coffee with Hemingway, it is a witty book, with pages about the size of a wallet-size photo, which can easily fit in the hand, and be read in a single sitting. I read it on a plane once, with time to spare. The same format is used when Curt imagines himself talking to Hemingway’s ghost. One interesting detail that popped out early was that there are 500+ books by or about Hemingway. If one reads a book every two weeks, it would take like ten years to finish. By then, another hundred books would likely have been published. How does one read Hemingway? The Big Four? Nick Adams Stories? A Moveable Feast? Carlos Baker? Hotch? Other stuff? The answer to all of those questions is yes. Prior to seeing a book talk about One True Podcast, I’d read about the Hemingway Studies degree at Kent State. All of the required reading is available through the Kent State University Press. The syllabus is online. So, I asked the professor point blank if one could simply buy the books and have the same knowledge as having the graduate degree. Yes and no, was the answer. If out of state tuition wasn’t a thing, I’d say just pay to take the classes. If ifs and buts…

DeBerg does a great job of using dialogue to tell the reader about history. This method works especially well in this book and gives it a unique voice from Coffee with Hemingway. One thing I did not care for was that the fictionalized DeBerg and the ghost of Hemingway talk about gun control and equal pay for women, with Hemingway’s ghost opining on current issues. I am not opining, just saying that it felt heavy-handed and unnecessary.

I feel a twinge of guilt, myself. In my mind I had imagined the book in the way AJ Weberman might write a biography of Bob Dylan. Wrestling With Demons is actually nothing like that. My guilt comes from having so badly underestimated how good the book would be. 20% or so done, I am now rethinking my own preconceived notion of Hemingway, which is what DeBerg wants the reader to do. I’m reminded of the 1911 Encyclopedia Brittanica, famous for being well-written, but useless out-of-date knowledge to a modern audience. I wonder if my knowledge and opinion of Hemingway is as useless as the 1911 Brittanica, in the era of Wikipedia. Maybe everything I think I know is wrong and out of date. I’ve read books written by people who were at the hospital in Milan who personally knew him. I’ve read books that include references to X-Rays and souvenir shell fragments. I accepted these as fact, but now I am less sure.

If I had to summarize why anyone still reads Hemingway, it is honesty. That’s the one-word summary. When he’s at his best, there is an honest quality in those simple sentences. Iceberg theory is great because it doesn’t work without honesty. “Writing is the easiest thing in the world, just stand at your typewriter and bleed.” That rings true, too. One true sentence comes to mind, too. There has to be honesty in good writing, even if it is ugly or politically incorrect. The first part of Wrestling with Demons ends with Curt speaking honestly about his relationship with his own mother. Not a good relationship. It is amazingly brave that someone could write so honestly. Hemingway would be proud. Hemingway haters wouldn’t understand. Honesty.

DeBerg writes honestly. He has an authenticity and realness that is required for any writing to be good. I’ve found lately that some authors try to write out of their comfort zone, so that readers will be out of their comfort zone, too. If you write honestly, sometimes comfort zones and boundaries are pushed. If you write to make money or to shock the audience, you aren’t writing honestly, and the way you force readers out of their comfort zone is uncomfortable, rather than liberating. But I guess that must sell, or other authors wouldn’t do it. Right?

Continuing on, there are some things that are included that were certainly eye-opening in an honest way, shocking even. DeBerg includes what I assume was Hemingway’s real-life nickname for his own penis. I’ll save you an NSFW google search: Mr. Scrooby. He also casually drops the fact that Hemingway’s third wife’s father was his first wife’s gyno. I’ve read countless books about Hemingway. Every single one omitted both of these details. Write honestly, even if it is uncomfortable. Especially if it is uncomfortable. Oh, I almost forgot, there are multiple passages on Ernest somehow convincing Martha Gellhorn, daughter of a renowned gynecologist, to get what we might now call vaginal enhancement surgery. Oh boy. DeBerg also doesn’t gloss over that decades later Martha killed herself with a cyanide pill. I don’t recall HBO including that detail in Hemingway and Gellhorn.

One detail DeBerg keeps going back to is the use of the word ‘concussion.’ He concludes, with some evidence, that Hemingway did not have a head injury in World War I and drew from his experience with a skylight falling on him in the late 20s for his depictions of head injuries in writing. DeBerg keeps going back to the word concussion and using it as proof that Hemingway lied about concussions. Buuuuut, did he? The word concussion has multiple meanings, specifically as it relates to ballistics and shockwaves. Many of the passages and uses could be double-meanings or could simply refer to the energy released by artillery shells. For me, possible word play therefore liar is a logical jump I can’t force myself to make.

On a scale of AJ Weberman to George W Bush writing that biography of Bush Sr, this falls in the middle. I admit when I first heard the premise, I was expecting full-blown Weberman. This is the happiest I have been to be wrong about something in a long time. It also spared me having to do a negative review. I also admire Curt for his hand-drawn book cover, and choice to have the dust jacket be slightly different from the actual cover. Years ago, I was (I assume one of many) in the camp of people who encouraged DeBerg to go with the hand drawing and to not hire a professional digital artist for the cover. It was absolutely the right choice. I’ve spoiled enough of the book already. Go buy a copy and read it. Worth every penny.