I read the book a year ago, when the rain of promise would ripple along my arms. A year later, rain falls again — droplets flicker, green grasps, while I bid farewell to arms. This particular work of Hemingway has fascinated readers across generations — sometimes in awe, and often in quiet ache.
The war novel is set in Italy and Switzerland and is narrated through the eyes of Frederic Henry, a young American lieutenant who volunteered to join the Italian Ambulance Corps before America entered the war. Realism — the novel’s core theme — is reflected through Frederic ’s growth and emotional shift, making it one of the finest examples of a “round novel.”
The novel kicks in with Frederic joining the corps after a winter vacation as he notes: “At the start of the winter came the permanent rain and with the rain came the cholera. But it was checked and in the end only seven thousand died of it in the army.” While seven thousand is the collective weight of the corpses of alive sons, yet the cruelty of the war eloped senses of emotion.
Today, when we hear that over 84,000 Palestinians have faced genocide, how often do we truly grasp that each number was once a flickering candle lighting the shores of Gaza or the hills of the West Bank? Hemingway captures this hypocrisy — this emotional numbness — through his plain prose. His short, simple sentences hold unbearable weight, revealing not just what war destroys, but how quietly and genuinely it does so.
Some die of thirst, some drown.
Henry reflects on his days in the corps where he made friends: Rinaldi, a surgeon and a ladies’ man, and a priest. They spend their days gossiping, drinking. There he meets Catherine Barkley, a British nurse who is still mourning over her war-lost fiancé. Frederic and Rinaldi both grew interested in Catherine. However, when Rinaldi finds the elaborate game of seduction between Frederic and Catherine, he steps out.
Catherine wants to fall in love instantly — partially to escape from her inner melancholy caused by her fiancé and the war; and young Henry does for lust of adventure.
Catherine’s maturity over Henry reflects when she says, “You don’t have to pretend you love me. That’s over for the evening,” to which Henry responds, “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Catherine gently replies, “Please let’s not lie when we don’t have to.” — indicating the escapism portrayed by Hemingway.
No spring lasts before summer brushes beauty and winter crushes impunity. It was at that time — during the Battle of Caporetto in 1917 — that Austro-Hungarian forces broke through the Italian front line using poison gas, stormtroopers, and infiltration tactics. As Henry found himself in the front, a grenade exploded nearby, and he felt, “My knee wasn’t there.”
Severely wounded, he was sent to an American hospital in Milan, where Dr. Valentini promptly operated on his leg. To his awe and relief, he discovered Catherine posted there as a nurse. She comforted him softly, saying, “There, darling. Now you’re all clean inside and out.”
In the hospital ward, away from the front, love cripples the fallen Henry. Once a game played out of mere escapism turns to genuine bond, as Catherine confesses,
“ You’re my religion. You’re all I’ve got.”
Soon, a recovered Henry sets out for the front with Catherine counting the days for both — Henry and their tomorrow’s arrival — as she finds herself pregnant.
Hemingway explores the depth of love, as it blinds Henry who barely hesitates leaving his comrades — Gordini, Passini, Maera, and Gavuzzi — on the front and set for Milan again. They both unite – and the rest is for you to explore.
I feel quite surprised: Henry, once a boy, turned man — for guns and roses.
Indeed, love will heal our deepest wounds, as I once heard it being the strongest of saliva. When I finished the book, I found tears — two droplets from my left eye. I threw the book down and silenced myself.
A book that explores the depth of emotion, set in war — how could that not resonate within me even after a year?
Did Henry or I ever truly bid farewell to arms?
