Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic.
W. H. AudenRead
Hemingway is terribly limited. His technique is good for short stories, for people who meet once in a bar very late at night, but do not enter into relations. But not for the novel.
Interpretation
Auden critiques Hemingway's narrative style, suggesting it is suited for short, transient encounters rather than the depth required for novels.
W. H. Auden's quote reflects his belief that Ernest Hemingway's writing technique excels in the realm of short stories, which focus on brief and impactful moments between characters. However, Auden argues that such a style falls short when it comes to the complexity and depth needed for novels, which often explore more profound relationships and narratives that evolve over time.
In practice
In a literary discussion about narrative techniques, one might quote Auden to illustrate the differences between short stories and novels.
Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic.
That the speech of self-disclosure should be translatable seems to me very odd, but I am convinced that it is. The conclusion that I draw is that the only quality which all human being without exception possess is uniqueness: any characteristic, on the other hand, which one individual can be recognized as having in common with another, like red hair or the English language, implies the existence of other individual qualities which this classification excludes.
Nobody knows what the cause is, though some pretend they do; it like some hidden assassin waiting to strike at you. Childless women get it, and men when they retire; it as if there had to be some outlet for their foiled creative fire.
History is, strictly speaking, the study of questions; the study of answers belongs to anthropology and sociology.
Music is the best means we have of digesting time.
'Healing,' Papa would tell me, 'is not a science, but the intuitive art of wooing nature.'
Perhaps they were looking for passion; perhaps they delved into this book as into a mysterious parcel - a gift box at the bottom of which, hidden in layers of rustling tissue paper, lay something they'd always longed for but couldn't ever grasp.
Jane Austen's books, too, are absent from this library. Just that one omission alone would make a fairly good library out of a library that hadn't a book in it.
I've gained a lot from James Joyce, Tolstoy, Chekhov and R. K. Narayan. While writing, I try to see if the story is going to radiate spokes. Their literature has always done that and gifted me beautiful things.
Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.
Sentences must stir in a book like leaves in a forest, each distinct from each despite their resemblance.
It seems to me that good novels celebrate the mystery in ordinary life, and summing it all up in psychological terms strips the mystery away
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