The Sun Also Rises generates a wistful, uneasy mood in the reader. Beneath the interactions between Jake and his motley crew of friends lies the lasting trauma most of them sustained during the First World War. This is supplemented with a healthy dose of sexual and romantic tension between Robert, Mike, Jake, Romero, and Brett. The sheer quantity of alcohol drunk over the course of the narrative also suffuses the plot with a slight haze of intoxication; many of the novel’s conversations occur between characters under the influence of some substance or another.
This mood is enforced both in dialogue and in Jake’s own narration, but it reveals itself most forcefully in the interactions that drift toward the reality of Jake’s impotence and his inability to love Brett, as is the case in this passage from Chapter 7:
“We might go up on the hill,” Brett said. “Haven’t we had a splendid party?”
The count was beaming. He was very happy.
“You are very nice people,” he said. He was smoking a cigar again. “Why don’t you get married, you two?”
“We want to lead our own lives,” I said.
“We have our careers,” Brett said. “Come on. Let’s get out of this.”
“Have another brandy,” the count said.
“Get it on the hill.”
“No. Have it here where it is quiet.”
“You and your quiet,” said Brett. “What is it men feel about quiet?”
As Jake and Brett struggle to avoid the elephant in the room with their evasive answers to the Count’s question, Brett’s restlessness is on full display. Through shifts in the subject and overlapping dialogue, Hemingway transfers some of the uneasiness felt by the characters onto readers.
In Chapter 16, this malaise boils over in Mike’s rage at Cohn for his continued courtships of Brett, who is technically his wife-to-be:
“No, I’d like to get this settled.” He turned away from me. “Do you think you amount to something, Cohn? Do you think you belong here among us? People who are out to have a good time? For God’s sake don’t be so noisy, Cohn!”
“Oh, cut it out, Mike,” Cohn said.
“Do you think Brett wants you here? Do you think you add to the party? Why don’t you say something?”
[…]
“I’m not one of you literary chaps. […] I’m not clever. But I do know when I’m not wanted. Why don’t you see when you’re not wanted, Cohn?
This vicious portrayal of Mike’s hatred of Robert, fueled by his inebriation, goes largely uninterrupted by any of the other characters present at the scene. Instead, Mike’s rant continues unimpeded, and Hemingway distorts the uneasy mood present throughout the book and turns it into one of overt discomfort and despair.
The Sun Also Rises generates a wistful, uneasy mood in the reader. Beneath the interactions between Jake and his motley crew of friends lies the lasting trauma most of them sustained during the First World War. This is supplemented with a healthy dose of sexual and romantic tension between Robert, Mike, Jake, Romero, and Brett. The sheer quantity of alcohol drunk over the course of the narrative also suffuses the plot with a slight haze of intoxication; many of the novel’s conversations occur between characters under the influence of some substance or another.
This mood is enforced both in dialogue and in Jake’s own narration, but it reveals itself most forcefully in the interactions that drift toward the reality of Jake’s impotence and his inability to love Brett, as is the case in this passage from Chapter 7:
“We might go up on the hill,” Brett said. “Haven’t we had a splendid party?”
The count was beaming. He was very happy.
“You are very nice people,” he said. He was smoking a cigar again. “Why don’t you get married, you two?”
“We want to lead our own lives,” I said.
“We have our careers,” Brett said. “Come on. Let’s get out of this.”
“Have another brandy,” the count said.
“Get it on the hill.”
“No. Have it here where it is quiet.”
“You and your quiet,” said Brett. “What is it men feel about quiet?”
As Jake and Brett struggle to avoid the elephant in the room with their evasive answers to the Count’s question, Brett’s restlessness is on full display. Through shifts in the subject and overlapping dialogue, Hemingway transfers some of the uneasiness felt by the characters onto readers.
In Chapter 16, this malaise boils over in Mike’s rage at Cohn for his continued courtships of Brett, who is technically his wife-to-be:
“No, I’d like to get this settled.” He turned away from me. “Do you think you amount to something, Cohn? Do you think you belong here among us? People who are out to have a good time? For God’s sake don’t be so noisy, Cohn!”
“Oh, cut it out, Mike,” Cohn said.
“Do you think Brett wants you here? Do you think you add to the party? Why don’t you say something?”
[…]
“I’m not one of you literary chaps. […] I’m not clever. But I do know when I’m not wanted. Why don’t you see when you’re not wanted, Cohn?
This vicious portrayal of Mike’s hatred of Robert, fueled by his inebriation, goes largely uninterrupted by any of the other characters present at the scene. Instead, Mike’s rant continues unimpeded, and Hemingway distorts the uneasy mood present throughout the book and turns it into one of overt discomfort and despair.
