It seems to me that Hemingway's latter years seem to get less attention these days than the Paris years. This book is a fine correction to this. Hendrickson centers his H story around Pilar (the boat not the famous Pilar from 'Whom..' ) and tells an intimate tale of H's love with the sea and thos...
It’s a block from Hemingway’s hotel. The park dates from the 1600s. It’s shaded by immense trees, with a fountain in the middle. A crew of elderly women, in their blue smocks, their heads turbaned in towels, come to clean the park every morning. They work with stiff brooms and dustpans connected ...