Lucy Lit.



Lesson Title: Hemingway’s Iceberg Principle: “Hills Like White Elephants”

Course and Grade: American Literature, 11th

Generalization: The main idea here is making inferences about character relationships, plot, and the theme of alienation.

Learning Targets:

Skills: making inferences.

Facts: Hemingway’s iceberg principle, definition of white elephant, definition of ‘reale’ and definition of Anis and absinthe. The girl, Jig, is pregnant, and the man with her—the one who impregnated her—wants her to get an abortion; she will do it if only it will make him happy and he will stay with her and things will go back to the way they used to be before she got pregnant; he keeps telling her he doesn’t want her to do it unless she really wants to; she says she does not care about herself, he replies that he does; when he won’t comply with her request to stop talking about it (because it is upsetting her) she threatens to scream; their waitress speaks to them in Spanish, which the man speaks, but Jig does not.

Materials: Lesson plan with questions, copies of the story “Hills Like White Elephants” (some copies highlighted for actors), whiteboards/pens, SmartBoard, image of Hemingway’s description of his iceberg principle, copies of the lyrics to “Disarm” by Smashing Pumpkins (hard copies and also an electronically stored document version of them to be projected on to the SmartBoard), an electronic copy of the music video for “Disarm,” and an electronically stored document of the story of ‘white elephant’ to be projected on to the SmartBoard, and on the SmartBoard or whiteboard (covered, to be revealed a bit at a time): “For Sale: Baby Shoes—Never Used.”

Anticipatory Set:

On the board: Why did the chicken cross the road? Hemingway: To die. Alone. In the rain. Tell the class that Hemingway is well-known for using very short sentences (and sometimes sentence fragments) and forcing people to mentally ‘fill in the blanks’ of his writing, and also for his themes relating to loneliness and isolation.

Tell class we’ll be reading a short story by Hemingway but first I will give them some biographical information about him.

Fun fact about Ernest Hemingway: in his fifties, in the 1950’s, he told Senator Joseph McCarthy (remember The Crucible?) that McCarthy was a little sh*t, and that he (Hemingway) could knock him (McCarthy) flat on his ass on the best day of his (McCarthy’s) life. Ernest Hemingway was a world traveler, fearless, bold, adventurous, fiercely independent, an alcoholic, and though macho in every stereotypical way, also a deeply sensitive writer who captured the sense of alienation that haunted the Lost Generation (of which F. Scott Fitzgerald was also a part) who were trying to deal with the absurdity of the First World War, so many of whom ended up in France because of the low cost of living there. France was where a great many American expatriate writers ended up, at least for a period of time, including Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and some time later, Richard Wright ... However, Hemingway himself never felt there was a lost generation, that the earth abideth forever, that there was hope ... of course, he ultimately committed suicide, but ... readers identify him with the Lost Generation, a phrase coined by Gertrude Stein’s auto mechanic, describing his workers who were so broken and damaged by the war ... Hemingway treated the women in his life quite horribly from what I understand, he was married four times, and was an avid hunter and killer. However, the pain and suffering that human beings inflicted on each other was a matter that concerned him a great deal, and which surfaces time and again in his writing.

“First off, tell me the one most important fact that most people know about icebergs, which is particularly relevant if you are sailing near them or in areas where there are icebergs.” Call on a student. “Good, yes, most of the iceberg, by definition, is under the surface of the water. Here is Hemingway’s iceberg principle, which guided all that he wrote.” Show the image. “Hemingway also once said, “Show the readers everything, tell them nothing.” The perfect example of this and the iceberg principle is the shortest story Hemingway ever wrote, just six words long, and which, legend has it, he considered to be his greatest work.” Show the six-sentence short story, revealing it two words at a time. “What does Hemingway expect you, as a reader, to infer by reading between the lines?” Call on students. “It’s quite amazing how a six-word story can pack such a punch. That is the best example of Hemingway’s iceberg principle.”

Context and Purpose: “This principle is also very much in effect in his story which we’ll look at today, “Hills Like White Elephants.” For all of Hemingway’s stories, most of what’s going on is underneath the surface and you will have to really mentally struggle to find out what’s really happening. I wasn’t very good at this in high school, but I’ll do my best to give you some clues to piece together the bulk of what Hemingway is trying to tell us, which is under the surface ...”

Instruction: Go over vocabulary and allusions. Reale = Spanish coin, currency.

Anis is a type of plant (that resembles a starfish) that is important in making absinthe, which is now outlawed in America and cannot be legally imported. Anis is yellow, but turns greenish-yellow when water is added. Anis liqueurs are the most popular liqueurs in France and in all of the Mediterranean countries. Absinthe was the classic anis spirit. Absinthe is a drink made from wormwood, which has a licorice-like taste and is high in alcoholic content, and may cause hallucinations if taken in large quantities. Hemingway drank a lot of absinthe. Today, absinthe is the drink of choice for Marilyn Manson.”

Have a student volunteer to look up the term ‘white elephant’ in a dictionary (or the online dictionary), and show the story of the white elephant on the SmartBoard and read it aloud to the class. Have students explain the meaning of the term in their own words and give examples of things that are ‘white elephants’ in their own lives.

Have students read the story silently to themselves, and then we’ll read it aloud as a dialogue between the two main characters, and the waitress, and a narrator, where they have copies of the story where their dialogue has been highlighted and I narrate.

After reading the story aloud, have students discuss questions about the story “Hills Like White Elephants.”

Closure: After discussing the story, show the students the image of the lyrics from the Smashing Pumpkins song “Disarm” and ask them to make inferences as to what it’s about. Discuss until they correctly infer that the song is referring to abortion, and then have them watch the music video for “Disarm.” Discuss why an individual woman (or a couple) contemplating what to do about an unwanted pregnancy might feel isolated from the rest of the world.

HW: None.

Discussion Questions for “Hills Like White Elephants”

What clues do we have as to where this story is taking place?

The ‘reale,’ the Spanish language, the river Ebro, Barcelona, and Madrid tell us that this is in Spain.

Describe the setting and the atmosphere of this story.

The setting is barren, hot, dry, and the only color is the white of the hills; it’s tense and harsh.

What does the girl, Jig, see in the dry hills? How does she see them? What do they resemble to her?

She’s looking at the line of hills, which remind her of white elephants.

Notice they seem to have trouble deciding about a simple thing like whether or not to have water in the drink. What does this imply about the characters and their relationship?

This implies that they are having an even more difficult time struggling with more difficult decisions.

Would you suspect she likes or dislikes the taste of the drink?

Answers will vary, but may include that she does not like it because she sets down her drink and the next thing they order are beers.

What does she try to avoid?

Another argument.

What is his answer to everything?

To have another drink.

For the characters, what is the significance of the station, and the river and all beyond it?

He talks about how the whole world can be theirs; she disagrees and says it ‘could’ have been, but not now.

Is this the first critical issue they’ve ever faced together?

It seems that way.

Can this relationship be saved or is it doomed?

Answers will vary.

Why does Hemingway refer to her as ‘the girl,’ and to the ‘man’ as ‘the man’? Why did he choose to do that?

Answers will vary.

Is this sexist, and why or why not?

Answers will vary.

Why did he name her character “Jig”?

Answers will vary.

Do both characters speak Spanish, or only one? What evidence leads you to believe that?

Only the man can speak Spanish; the girl cannot. The man first speaks to the waitress in Spanish, and from that point on, she only ever talks directly to the man, and he is the one who talks to her; the girl (Jig) never talks with their waitress directly. The man can also apparently read the Spanish ‘Anis del Toro’ sign while the girl cannot. Finally, when the waitress tells the man that the train is coming in five minutes, he has to translate for the girl, who had asked, “What did she say?” The girl can only smile brightly at the waitress to thank her, since she doesn’t speak any Spanish.

Does this seem to help one character have power over the other? How?

Answers will vary.

Looking back on the story, list the evidence that tells what kind of operation Jig is confronting. How risky is it physically and emotionally?

Jig is contemplating getting an abortion, which is physically dangerous at the time and potentially emotionally devastating.

Information that leads us to the correct inference:

He tells her “They just let the air in ...”

They both agree that other women who have had it are ‘so happy’ afterwards

He assures her that she won’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to ... and he’s perfectly willing to go through with it if that’s what she wants

He tells her he doesn’t want anybody but her

She tells him: “Can’t we maybe stop talking?” and asks it again later with a lot of repetition of ‘please’

Are you surprised that a man wrote this story? Why or why not?

Answers will vary.

How is the setting (the station, river, hills) related to Jig’s choices, in her view?

Answers will vary, but may include that everything is very barren, like she could end up being if the operation goes wrong. She also says they ‘could’ have had it all; he says they still can but she disagrees.

How is the ‘iceberg principle’ at work here?

The word ‘abortion’ is never used, but we can infer from the way they talk that they are debating whether or not she should get one. Also we have to infer that only the man can speak Spanish.

How can we tell that a significant period of time has gone by at various points in the story?

Between the lines “Yes, with water ...” and “It tastes like licorice” we can infer that time has passed while the drinks were served. Also, “All right” is immediately followed by “The beer’s nice and cool ...” which shows that more time has elapsed.

During the conversation about operation, he talks a lot; how does she respond?

Jig mostly responds with a stony silence; for the most part, she doesn’t say anything. Otherwise, she simply conveys the sense that they won’t be able to be really happy ever again now, no matter what.

Point out to students that what takes five-six minutes of class to read aloud takes 35 minutes in the story ...

How would you characterize their relationship?

Answers will vary.

Does it seem that he is unfairly pressuring her to get the abortion?

Answers will vary.

Does she really want to? And what evidence do you see that makes you believe she does or doesn’t?

Answers will vary.

If she does decide to go through with it, why would she? What would her motivation be?

Answers will vary.

Do you think that today guys tend to pressure their girlfriends (who get pregnant) to get abortions?

Answers will vary.

Who strikes you as the more sympathetic character, and why?

Answers will vary.

Put yourself in her place: if you had a spouse or fiancée or boyfriend who did not want you to have the baby, how alone would you feel if you were pregnant and he clearly didn’t want to be a father to the child?

Answers will vary.

How alone would you feel if you were in the 1920’s and you were faced with the prospect of being a single mother at that time period?

Answers will vary.

Look at lyrics to “Disarm” by Smashing Pumpkins and infer what that song is about.

How are the lyrics similar to the short story? What do they have in common?

The song lyrics are all about abortion, but in coded language to be less blatant about it.

Absinthe is a very bitter-tasting drink: how is that appropriate to the tone of the story?

The tone and mood of this story is also bitter; they are bitter about their situation and what their options now are and having to face the choices that they now face.

How is the title that refers to white elephants an appropriate title for this short story?

They have both received a ‘gift’ (her pregnancy) that they do not want; a ‘white elephant’ they just want to get rid of but are having difficulty getting rid of, because society (and perhaps the girl) regard it as ‘sacred.’

For those of you wondering why she continues to drink alcohol when she isn’t sure whether or not she’ll have a baby or get an abortion, fetal alcohol syndrome wasn’t identified and named as such until 1973.

“Disarm” by Smashing Pumpkins

Disarm you with a smile

And cut you like you want me to,

Cut that little child inside of me and such a part of you

The years burn

I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes

And what I choose is my choice

What’s a boy supposed to do?

The killer in me is the killer in you

My love

I’ll send this smile over to you

Disarm you with a smile

And leave you like you left me here

To whither in denial

The bitterness of one who’s left alone

The years burn

I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes

And what I choose is my voice

What’s a boy supposed to do?

The killer in me is the killer in you

My love

I’ll send this smile over to you

Hemingway’s Iceberg Principle

In Death in the Afternoon, Hemingway outlined his ‘theory of omission’ or ‘iceberg principle.’ He states: “If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of the iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. The writer who omits things because he does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing.”

Once there was a cruel and unjust king in an ancient kingdom in Asia. One of his subjects displeased him, so he sent to that subject a white elephant, as a ‘gift.’ In that culture, a white elephant was sacred, and could not be slaughtered for meat or other uses, and could not be put to work (as other elephants might be) as a labor-animal. The unlucky subject thus had to care for and feed the elephant, which lives on average as long as a human, and over the course of his life the expense of caring for and feeding the elephant (which has an enormous appetite) ruined him financially, leaving him destitute.

“Hills Like White Elephants” by Ernest Hemingway

The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went to Madrid.

‘What should we drink?’ the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.

‘It’s pretty hot,’ the man said.

‘Let’s drink beer.’

‘Dos cervezas,’ the man said into the curtain.

‘Big ones?’ a woman asked from the doorway.

‘Yes. Two big ones.’

The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the felt pads and the beer glass on the table and looked at the man and the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry.

‘They look like white elephants,’ she said.

‘I’ve never seen one,’ the man drank his beer.

‘No, you wouldn’t have.’

‘I might have,’ the man said. ‘Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain. ‘They’ve painted something on it,’ she said. ‘What does it say?’

‘Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.’

‘Could we try it?’

The man called ‘Listen’ through the curtain. The woman came out from the bar.

‘Four reales.’

‘We want two Anis del Toro.’

‘With water?’

‘Do you want it with water?’

‘I don’t know,’ the girl said. ‘Is it good with water?’

‘It’s all right.’

‘You want them with water?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes, with water.’

‘It tastes like liquorice,’ the girl said and put the glass down.

‘That’s the way with everything.’

‘Yes,’ said the girl. ‘Everything tastes of liquorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.’

‘Oh, cut it out.’

‘You started it,’ the girl said. ‘I was being amused. I was having a fine time.’

‘Well, let’s try and have a fine time.’

‘All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white elephants. Wasn’t that bright?’

‘That was bright.’

‘I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it—look at things and try new drinks?’

‘I guess so.’

The girl looked across at the hills.

‘They’re lovely hills,’ she said. ‘They don’t really look like white elephants. I just meant the coloring of their skin through the trees.’

‘Should we have another drink?’

‘All right.’

The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.

‘The beer’s nice and cool,’ the man said.

‘It’s lovely,’ the girl said.

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all.’

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.’

The girl did not say anything.

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’

‘Then what will we do afterwards?’

‘We’ll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before.’

‘What makes you think so?’

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads.

‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

‘I know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve known lots of people that have done it.’

‘So have I,’ said the girl. ‘And afterwards they were all so happy.’

‘Well,’ the man said, ‘if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘And you really want to?’

‘I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if you don’t really want to.’

‘And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were and you’ll love me?’

‘I love you now. You know I love you.’

‘I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are like white elephants, and you’ll like it?’

‘I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know how I get when I worry.’

‘If I do it you won’t ever worry?’

‘I won’t worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t care about me.’

‘Well, I care about you.’

‘Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I’ll do it and then everything will be fine.’

‘I don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.’

The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees.

‘And we could have all this,’ she said. ‘And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said we could have everything.’

‘We can have everything.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can have the whole world.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can go everywhere.’

‘No, we can’t. It isn’t ours any more.’

‘It’s ours.’

‘No, it isn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.’

‘But they haven’t taken it away.’

‘We’ll wait and see.’

‘Come on back in the shade,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t feel that way.’

‘I don’t feel any way,’ the girl said. ‘I just know things.’

‘I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do—’

‘Nor that isn’t good for me,’ she said. ‘I know. Could we have another beer?’

‘All right. But you’ve got to realize—’

‘I realize,’ the girl said. ‘Can’t we maybe stop talking?’

They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table.

‘You’ve got to realize,’ he said, ‘that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.’

‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.’

‘Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want anyone else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.’

‘Would you do something for me now?’

‘I’d do anything for you.’

‘Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?’

He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had spent nights.

‘But I don’t want you to,’ he said, ‘I don’t care anything about it.’

‘I’ll scream,’ the girl said.

The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put them down on the damp felt pads. ‘The train comes in five minutes,’ she said.

‘What did she say?’ asked the girl.

‘That the train is coming in five minutes.’

The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her.

‘I’d better take the bags over to the other side of the station,’ the man said. She smiled at him.

‘All right. Then come back and we’ll finish the beer.’

He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks. He looked up the tracks but could not see the train. Coming back, he walked through the bar-room, where people waiting for the train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at him.

‘Do you feel better?’ he asked.

‘I feel fine,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.’

“Hills Like White Elephants” by Ernest Hemingway

The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went to Madrid.

‘What should we drink?’ the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.

‘It’s pretty hot,’ the man said.

‘Let’s drink beer.’

‘Dos cervezas,’ the man said into the curtain.

‘Big ones?’ a woman asked from the doorway.

‘Yes. Two big ones.’

The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the felt pads and the beer glass on the table and looked at the man and the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry.

‘They look like white elephants,’ she said.

‘I’ve never seen one,’ the man drank his beer.

‘No, you wouldn’t have.’

‘I might have,’ the man said. ‘Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain. ‘They’ve painted something on it,’ she said. ‘What does it say?’

‘Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.’

‘Could we try it?’

The man called ‘Listen’ through the curtain. The woman came out from the bar.

‘Four reales.’

‘We want two Anis del Toro.’

‘With water?’

‘Do you want it with water?’

‘I don’t know,’ the girl said. ‘Is it good with water?’

‘It’s all right.’

‘You want them with water?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes, with water.’

‘It tastes like liquorice,’ the girl said and put the glass down.

‘That’s the way with everything.’

‘Yes,’ said the girl. ‘Everything tastes of liquorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.’

‘Oh, cut it out.’

‘You started it,’ the girl said. ‘I was being amused. I was having a fine time.’

‘Well, let’s try and have a fine time.’

‘All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white elephants. Wasn’t that bright?’

‘That was bright.’

‘I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it—look at things and try new drinks?’

‘I guess so.’

The girl looked across at the hills.

‘They’re lovely hills,’ she said. ‘They don’t really look like white elephants. I just meant the coloring of their skin through the trees.’

‘Should we have another drink?’

‘All right.’

The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.

‘The beer’s nice and cool,’ the man said.

‘It’s lovely,’ the girl said.

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all.’

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.’

The girl did not say anything.

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’

‘Then what will we do afterwards?’

‘We’ll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before.’

‘What makes you think so?’

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads.

‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

‘I know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve known lots of people that have done it.’

‘So have I,’ said the girl. ‘And afterwards they were all so happy.’

‘Well,’ the man said, ‘if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘And you really want to?’

‘I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if you don’t really want to.’

‘And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were and you’ll love me?’

‘I love you now. You know I love you.’

‘I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are like white elephants, and you’ll like it?’

‘I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know how I get when I worry.’

‘If I do it you won’t ever worry?’

‘I won’t worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t care about me.’

‘Well, I care about you.’

‘Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I’ll do it and then everything will be fine.’

‘I don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.’

The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees.

‘And we could have all this,’ she said. ‘And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said we could have everything.’

‘We can have everything.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can have the whole world.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can go everywhere.’

‘No, we can’t. It isn’t ours any more.’

‘It’s ours.’

‘No, it isn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.’

‘But they haven’t taken it away.’

‘We’ll wait and see.’

‘Come on back in the shade,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t feel that way.’

‘I don’t feel any way,’ the girl said. ‘I just know things.’

‘I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do—’

‘Nor that isn’t good for me,’ she said. ‘I know. Could we have another beer?’

‘All right. But you’ve got to realize—’

‘I realize,’ the girl said. ‘Can’t we maybe stop talking?’

They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table.

‘You’ve got to realize,’ he said, ‘that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.’

‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.’

‘Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want anyone else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.’

‘Would you do something for me now?’

‘I’d do anything for you.’

‘Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?’

He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had spent nights.

‘But I don’t want you to,’ he said, ‘I don’t care anything about it.’

‘I’ll scream,’ the girl said.

The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put them down on the damp felt pads. ‘The train comes in five minutes,’ she said.

‘What did she say?’ asked the girl.

‘That the train is coming in five minutes.’

The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her.

‘I’d better take the bags over to the other side of the station,’ the man said. She smiled at him.

‘All right. Then come back and we’ll finish the beer.’

He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks. He looked up the tracks but could not see the train. Coming back, he walked through the bar-room, where people waiting for the train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at him.

‘Do you feel better?’ he asked.

‘I feel fine,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.’

“Hills Like White Elephants” by Ernest Hemingway

The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went to Madrid.

‘What should we drink?’ the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.

‘It’s pretty hot,’ the man said.

‘Let’s drink beer.’

‘Dos cervezas,’ the man said into the curtain.

‘Big ones?’ a woman asked from the doorway.

‘Yes. Two big ones.’

The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the felt pads and the beer glass on the table and looked at the man and the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry.

‘They look like white elephants,’ she said.

‘I’ve never seen one,’ the man drank his beer.

‘No, you wouldn’t have.’

‘I might have,’ the man said. ‘Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain. ‘They’ve painted something on it,’ she said. ‘What does it say?’

‘Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.’

‘Could we try it?’

The man called ‘Listen’ through the curtain. The woman came out from the bar.

‘Four reales.’

‘We want two Anis del Toro.’

‘With water?’

‘Do you want it with water?’

‘I don’t know,’ the girl said. ‘Is it good with water?’

‘It’s all right.’

‘You want them with water?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes, with water.’

‘It tastes like liquorice,’ the girl said and put the glass down.

‘That’s the way with everything.’

‘Yes,’ said the girl. ‘Everything tastes of liquorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.’

‘Oh, cut it out.’

‘You started it,’ the girl said. ‘I was being amused. I was having a fine time.’

‘Well, let’s try and have a fine time.’

‘All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white elephants. Wasn’t that bright?’

‘That was bright.’

‘I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it—look at things and try new drinks?’

‘I guess so.’

The girl looked across at the hills.

‘They’re lovely hills,’ she said. ‘They don’t really look like white elephants. I just meant the coloring of their skin through the trees.’

‘Should we have another drink?’

‘All right.’

The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.

‘The beer’s nice and cool,’ the man said.

‘It’s lovely,’ the girl said.

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all.’

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.’

The girl did not say anything.

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’

‘Then what will we do afterwards?’

‘We’ll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before.’

‘What makes you think so?’

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads.

‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

‘I know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve known lots of people that have done it.’

‘So have I,’ said the girl. ‘And afterwards they were all so happy.’

‘Well,’ the man said, ‘if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘And you really want to?’

‘I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if you don’t really want to.’

‘And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were and you’ll love me?’

‘I love you now. You know I love you.’

‘I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are like white elephants, and you’ll like it?’

‘I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know how I get when I worry.’

‘If I do it you won’t ever worry?’

‘I won’t worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t care about me.’

‘Well, I care about you.’

‘Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I’ll do it and then everything will be fine.’

‘I don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.’

The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees.

‘And we could have all this,’ she said. ‘And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said we could have everything.’

‘We can have everything.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can have the whole world.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can go everywhere.’

‘No, we can’t. It isn’t ours any more.’

‘It’s ours.’

‘No, it isn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.’

‘But they haven’t taken it away.’

‘We’ll wait and see.’

‘Come on back in the shade,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t feel that way.’

‘I don’t feel any way,’ the girl said. ‘I just know things.’

‘I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do—’

‘Nor that isn’t good for me,’ she said. ‘I know. Could we have another beer?’

‘All right. But you’ve got to realize—’

‘I realize,’ the girl said. ‘Can’t we maybe stop talking?’

They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table.

‘You’ve got to realize,’ he said, ‘that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.’

‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.’

‘Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want anyone else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.’

‘Would you do something for me now?’

‘I’d do anything for you.’

‘Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?’

He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had spent nights.

‘But I don’t want you to,’ he said, ‘I don’t care anything about it.’

‘I’ll scream,’ the girl said.

The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put them down on the damp felt pads. ‘The train comes in five minutes,’ she said.

‘What did she say?’ asked the girl.

‘That the train is coming in five minutes.’

The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her.

‘I’d better take the bags over to the other side of the station,’ the man said. She smiled at him.

‘All right. Then come back and we’ll finish the beer.’

He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks. He looked up the tracks but could not see the train. Coming back, he walked through the bar-room, where people waiting for the train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at him.

‘Do you feel better?’ he asked.

‘I feel fine,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.’

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