Hemingway and London

     I have always found the life of Ernest Hemingway to be one of the most interesting and exciting lives one could live.  To have traveled to the places he's been and do the things he has done, I always thought that reading his work must also be very exciting.  So, years ago, I read a few of his novels.  To be honest, they bored the hell out of me.  His shorter works are excellent, however.  One of my favorites has always been Hills Like White Elephants, but Snows of Kilimanjaro is also one that I enjoy.
     Snows of Kilimanjaro is a bit of a sad story.  Harry spends a great deal of time, while he's dying from an infection, thinking about the many stories that he never wrote.  He had meant to write them, but always figured that there would be time later on in life.  Now he was going to die having never written the rest of his stories.  He also spends a good deal of time insulting his wife, mostly for being wealthy.  The whole time, he feels death creeping up on him like the hyena watching the camp and staying just beyond view.  Despite his wife's constant reassurance that the plane will show up and he will be fine, he knows that he is going to die.  The reader also knows it.  Even the little illusion at the end where it looks like he might make it through doesn't fool anyone.  There was far too much foreshadowing of death for the story to end any other way.
     In Jack London's To Build a Fire, there is also a good amount of foreshadowing as well as forewarning of impending doom.  It is stated almost from the beginning that the man walking through the snow at colder than fifty degrees below zero is not experienced enough in this type of cold.  That certainly proves to be the case.  I had read this story before as well, but it had been so long ago that I couldn't remember a great deal of the details.  I was just happy that he didn't kill the dog.  Of course, I found the dog to be a lot smarter than he was, which is often the case anyway.