Definition of Allusion
As Hemingway introduces readers to Robert Cohn, he establishes Cohn as a wistful and somewhat hopeless romantic. To drive the point home, in Chapter 1, he makes a double allusion to W. H. Hudson’s 19th-century novel The Purple Land and to the writing of Horatio Alger:
[...] Cohn had read and reread The Purple Land. The Purple Land is a very sinister book if read too late in life. It recounts splendid imaginary amorous adventures of a perfect English gentleman in an intensely romantic land, the scenery of which is very well described. For a man to take it at thirty-four as a guide-book to what life holds is about as safe as it would be for a man of the same age to enter Wall Street direct from a French convent, equipped with a complete set of the more practical Alger books.
Throughout the novel, Jake reads a number of books. The first of these he pages through while lounging against the trunk of a tree on his fishing trip with Bill, in Chapter 12:
Unlock with LitCharts A+It was a little past noon and there was not much shade, but I sat against the trunk of two of the trees that grew together, and read. The book was something by A. E. W. Mason, and I was reading a wonderful story about a man who had been frozen in the Alps and then fallen into a glacier and disappeared, and his bride was going to wait twenty-four years exactly for his body to come out on the moraine, while her true love waited too, and they were still waiting when Bill came up.
In Chapter 13, Mike lets slip that Robert refers to Brett by the name Circe:
Unlock with LitCharts A+"I can't tell him. It's too ridiculous."
"I'll tell him."
"You won't, Michael. Don't be an ass."
"He calls her Circe," Mike said. "He claims she turns men into swine. Damn good. I wish I were one of these literary chaps."
Throughout the novel, Jake reads a number of books. The first of these he pages through while lounging against the trunk of a tree on his fishing trip with Bill, in Chapter 12:
Unlock with LitCharts A+It was a little past noon and there was not much shade, but I sat against the trunk of two of the trees that grew together, and read. The book was something by A. E. W. Mason, and I was reading a wonderful story about a man who had been frozen in the Alps and then fallen into a glacier and disappeared, and his bride was going to wait twenty-four years exactly for his body to come out on the moraine, while her true love waited too, and they were still waiting when Bill came up.