Reading Hemingway's Men Without Women

Glossary and Commentary

Joseph M. Flora

• Publisher: The Kent State University Press
• Year: 2008
• ISBN:
  9781612776125
• Topic: Littérature
• Subtopic: Critique littéraire nord-américaine

"The aim of this book is not to have the final word on the meaning of the stories that compose Men Without Women. Rather, the study attempts to probe the events of each story as we encounter them. It seeks to explain historical references, to identify allusions, to see how form suggests meaning." —From the Preface Because of the fame The Sun Also Rises brought Ernest Hemingway, when Men Without Women was published just one year later, in 1927, it commanded popular and critical attention. Even reviewers who objected to a masculine emphasis and a sometimes harsh realism identified stories in the collection that could not be ignored. Close commentary, with special attention to allusions, demonstrates that Men Without Women merits a place among the best story collections in American literature. Reading Hemingway's Men Without Women guides readers toward understanding how Hemingway tested old ideas of family, gender, race, ethnicity, and manhood. This close study invites scholars, teachers, students, and general readers to take a careful look into Hemingway's prose.

Reading Men Without Women

THE UNDEFEATED

As the first story in the book, “The Undefeated” bears special importance. As lead story, it accents Hemingway’s acclaim following the 1926 publication of The Sun Also Rises, his first major novel. But justification for the position of the story far exceeds any commercial promotion. The placement is important to the thematic development of the collection. With the female presence more distanced in “The Undefeated” than in any of the thirteen stories of the book, the story merits priority as a story about men without women. It is certainly about the identity of one’s self through profession. And while the narrative passionately studies the art of bullfighting, it speaks also to the art of writing—a concern that keeps surfacing throughout the book. The lead story alerts readers to search not only for victors but also for the company of the vanquished.

In The Sun Also Rises, bullfighting involved valor (and death) in the bright sun of a Spanish afternoon. In “The Undefeated,” the bullfighting (and the majority of the narrative) takes place at night. Darkness also pervades the final story of Men Without Women, “Now I Lay Me.”

The Sun Also Rises led many readers to a fascination with the culture of the bullfight. “The Undefeated” gave Hemingway opportunity to instruct readers in a more detailed way on the intricacies of the bullfight and the dynamics of the bullfighting world. He had begun that instruction in a report for the Toronto Star Weekly published on 20 October 1923 as “Bullfighting a Tragedy” (Dateline 340–46). He followed it more ambitiously in the interchapters of In Our Time. Those short pieces, chapters 9–14, anticipate the fuller treatment in “The Undefeated” of such motifs as the crowd’s behavior, thrown cushions, death from goring, and the cutting off of the pigtail. The reader of Men Without Women who has also read In Our Time will have added pleasure.

“The Undefeated” is among Hemingway’s longest short stories and might even be considered a companion piece to “Big Two-Hearted River,” the longest piece of In Our Time, as well as its concluding story, which thus prepares the reader for numerous linkages to Men Without Women. The two stories have common subjects and themes. Both depend on age-old traditions and rituals (fishing in “Big Two-Hearted River” and the bullfight in “The Undefeated”). Both stories emphasize the undefeated 3 craft, knowing what to do and how to do it. In both stories the central act involves coping with violence (past and present) to define the protagonist’s personal worth. Both stories protest that man is not made for defeat. Both stories exclude female presence or influence.

183:1–4 Manuel Garcia . . . through the door. The opening sentence of the story not only places the story in Spain, giving first and last names to two Spaniards, but also dissuades the reader from expectations of an autobiographical story. Readers had, of course, been tempted to view Jake Barnes of The Sun Also Rises as an embodiment of the author; from publication, the novel was viewed as a roman à clef. Several stories from In Our Time had close links to Hemingway’s life, and these linkages interested readers. And though several stories in Men Without Women would also cause readers to think of Hemingway the person, the lead story does not.

Named first, Manuel Garcia dominates the story, first to last. Not many of the first readers of Men Without Women would have been aware of the historical reference of the name. But five years later, in Death in the Afternoon, Hemingway would write at length about this matador: “He had a complete knowledge of the bulls and a valor that was so absolute and such a solid part of him that it made everything easy that he understood; and he understood it all. Also he was very proud. He was the proudest man I have ever seen” (78). “The Undefeated” echoes much of Garcia’s story. Hemingway had used other aspects of Garcia’s career in chapters 13 and 14 of In Our Time. There he is called Maera, as the historical Manuel Garcia was known. As the first words of the story, the full name accents Hemingway’s fascination with this matador. “Maera” derives from madera (wood), the essential core.

Following her study of the manuscript versions of Death in the Afternoon, Susan F. Beegel makes a strong case that the Manuel of “The Undefeated” may owe even more to Manuel Garcia, El Espartero, who was gored to death in Madrid in 1894 (see her essay “The Death of El Espartero”). Concurrent with the young Hemingway’s first corrida was born the instinct to explore its history.

The opening paragraph creates a special aura about the fictional embodiment. Emmanuel—“God with us”—is the name given by Isaiah (7.14) for the messiah. The verb climbed suggests a strenuous effort, as if Manuel has struggled up to some Golgotha. At this point, the reader does not know what is in the suitcase Manuel puts down, but it suggests a heavy burden. And Manuel is given special insight here: he feels that someone is in the room, though no one has answered his knock. The image here suggests Holman Hunt’s painting The Light of the World. Hemingway was very familiar with that work from his childhood: his mother had presented a copy of it to her church as a memorial to her father. In 1933 Hemingway evoked the painting once again in his story with the same title as the painting.

The name Miguel Retana carries no similar fame in the history of bullfighting. Hemingway accents an important difference between the two men by placing “Don” before the second name. The title for a gentleman, the designation here carries a gentle barb. Retana represents the dark commercial side of bullfighting. In For Whom the Bell Tolls, Hemingway places a Retana in chapter 14, where Pilar describes her life with the matador Finito. During an evening of festivities, the former manager of the matador Rafael el Gallo recounts a story of Rafael’s perfidy. An unidentified Retana is a listener at the table; Pilar assumes knowledge of the man whose interest has been piqued. Hemingway likely wishes the name to evoke memories of “The Undefeated” and a person who is cognizant of the machinations of the profession.

183:5–12 “Retana” . . . Manuel said. The first line of the story implies command. Its repetition adds to the sense of urgency as Manuel now bangs at the door. Retana, having heard that Manuel has been released from the hospital, knows who is outside the door. Retana’s “Who’s there?” poses a question he need not have asked. Manuel’s voice is one Retana knows well; Manuel has answered Retana with the informal “Manolo.” Retana knows as well the answer to his next question: he knows why Manuel has come. Manuel’s simple answer makes primary in the collection a cri de coeur that pervades much of Hemingway’s writing as well as a final agony of his own life.

183:13–17 the door clicked . . . bull-fight posters. Presumably Retana, without rising, has unlocked an electrically controlled door; there is no indication of another presence. When Manuel enters the room, Retana is already behind his desk at the far side of the room. The body language reveals Retana’s determination not to let any but business concerns prevail. There is no bodily contact. In every sense, Retana seems a “little man.” He borrows power from the stuffed bull’s head that is directly behind him. The bull’s head dominates the wall of photographs and posters. The bull personifies the threat of death that is basic to the human condition. Because the taxidermist is from Madrid, we may assume that we are in the Spanish capital, where audiences in the ring were especially demanding.

183:18–21 little man sat looking . . . the desk. Narrative repetition underscores the degradation of this exchange for Manuel. Retana uses silence and his gaze to discomfort Manuel as much as possible. When he breaks the silence, his declaration sets the value of Manuel’s life very low: “I thought they’d killed you.” For him, Manuel would be a statistic. His photograph is not mounted on Retana’s wall. Identifying a character by a trait is a favorite narrative device of Stephen Crane, useful for creating an aura of a harsh naturalistic world, as in “The Blue Hotel.” The reader knows Retana’s name. Bypassing it for “the little man,” Hemingway gains a heightened sense of the harsh commercial world, at the same time demeaning Retana’s lack of moral fiber. Knocking on wood, Manuel acknowledges the role of luck in his fate—a concept with accompanying rituals in most sports and one that would become an increasingly insistent motif in Hemingway’s work: that Frederic Henry loses his St. Anthony’s medal in A Farewell to Arms is ominous; early in The Old Man and the Sea, Santiago says to Manolin, “If you were my boy I’d take you out and gamble. . . . But you are your father’s and your mother’s and you are in a lucky boat” (13).

183:22–27 “How many corridas” . . . looked at Manuel. The clipped dialogue furthers the sense that this is a conversation no one enjoys having; exchange of information is minimal, factual. Corrida is short for corrida de toros. When Manuel answers that he has had only one bullfight, the “little man” never seemed smaller. Sometimes “one” is enough. (As a “great banderillero” with Belmonte, Manuel Garcia fought ninety to a hundred times in a season; see Hemingway, Death 77). In another kind of arena, the obtuse might ask a soldier if he had been in only one battle. It all depends on the battle, on the bullfight. Retana had read about the “one” Manuel had been in—one that came near to costing Manuel his life. His continued gaze seems less in amazement at Manuel’s survival than for interest in any further use he might have for Manuel. Bullfighting always carries the threat of serious injury or even death, and no matador can expect to retire without a trip to the infirmary.

183:28–184:8 Manuel looked up . . . stuffed bull’s head. Retana’s gaze is countered by Manuel’s looking at the stuffed bull’s head. Not only has Manuel seen this bull many times before; this bull has haunted his thoughts: nine years ago the bull killed his brother. Although Manuel cannot read the brass plate, the narrator permits the reader to do so. The bull’s name, Mariposa, means “butterfly,” an ironic name for so fierce a beast. The bullfighting public of Madrid would recognize the name as “a series of passes with cape” over the matador’s shoulders. The matador faces the bull, “zigg-zagging slowly backwards, drawing the bull on with a wave of first one side of the cape, then the other.” The series requires great knowledge of bulls in order to be executed properly. Doubtless, the bull Mariposa had earlier been identified as a brave one. He had “accepted” nine varas (lances) for seven caballos (horses)—the language of the inscription suggesting a transaction, one that resulted in the death of the bull as well as of the apprentice bullfighter (novillero). Antonio Garcia died on 27 April 1909. This date places present time at 1918—pairing the ritualistic killing in the arena with the horror of the Great War. What Hemingway hints at here, he makes explicit in Death in the Afternoon: “The only place where you could see life and death, i.e., violent death now that the wars were over, was in the bull ring” (2). It is the narrator who shares the inscription. Manuel “could not read it”—perhaps because the distance from his side of the desk is too great, but the line may indicate that his knowledge of the written word is minimal. Manuel’s judgment is wrong: the purpose of the inscription is not in memory of his brother but in memory of the bull.

184:9–14 “The lot” . . . “your cap.” Manuel’s study of Mariposa leads Retana to soften his stance, granting that Mariposa was a worthy opponent, unlike the sorry bulls that the Duke of Veragua has just sent him. The great matador requires a brave and strong bull. In Death in the Afternoon, Hemingway reflects at length on the crucial role of the ganadería (the bull ranch) in the enterprise.

Retana has finally become interested in talking with Manuel, as is reflected in his “leaning back” and inviting Manuel to sit down and remove his cap. The invitation has come tardily.

184:15–29 Manuel sat . . . watched him smoking. Cap removed, Retana can better view the matador. The “one” corrida of the past year has “changed” Manuel’s face. Retana notes that Manuel doesn’t “look well,” but the narrator sees more. Retana notes that Manuel’s coleta (his pigtail—the mark of the matador) is pinned forward on his head so as not to show under the cap. Manuel the matador seeks another fight so that he might sport that coleta less strangely. But from the narrator’s perspective, the strange look of Manuel marks him for death—as many years later in A Moveable Feast Hemingway would describe the poet Ernest Walsh as a man “marked for death” (123).

Manuel clarifies that he is just out of the hospital. How serious his wound has been is emphasized not only by his paleness but also by the rumor Retana has heard about the loss of a leg. The leg is the usual spot for wounds in bullfighting; the wound also links Manuel with Nick Adams, who in In Our Time in “The Battler” has been tossed from a boxcar and lands on his knee and who in “Cross-Country Snow” cannot do a telemark while skiing. In Men Without Women in “In Another Country,” we learn unmistakably that Nick had been hit in battle on the Italian front of the Great War. The sympathy for Manuel that Retana has held at bay surfaces with his deeper look at the now capless bullfighter. Although he offers Manuel a cigarette, he does not join him in the ritual. (In “Big Two-Hearted River,” the last story of In Our Time, Nick Adams smokes a cigarette as he recovers from the shock of seeing the burned country near Seney, Michigan.) Watching Manuel smoke, Retana begins to chart his own plan. Tellingly, he has remained on his side of the desk.

184:30–39 “Why don’t you” . . . “Tomorrow night.” Before making his own offer, Retana suggests the alternative that Manuel “get a job” and “go to work.” Retana has been dealing with matadors for many years, and he knows that the practical advice will not be heeded. Manuel defines himself by his profession: to work is to be a bullfighter. Though Manuel may laugh at Retana’s glib response, “Yes, while you’re in there,” he disregards the warning in the response. Just released from the hospital as he is, his visit to Retana carries a good deal of hubris. Nevertheless, wounded bullfighters were usually eager to return to the arena. Manuel is not unusual.

Sphinx-like, Retana continues to study Manuel before offering to put him in a nocturnal. There is no balancing pause from Manuel—and he quickly asks, “When?” That Retana can promise the following night suggests a callousness to match Manuel’s hubris.

184:40–185:10 “I don’t like” . . . “or leave it,” Retana said. Having set aside medical wisdom that would mandate against returning to the ring immediately following his release from the hospital, Manuel pauses over the superstitious (or supra-rational) consideration: substituting brings bad luck. The rational mind would question Manuel’s cause-effect assumptions. Salvador may not have been in good condition for the fight; possibly he was past his prime. Arguing for a fight in a week (when he presumably would feel stronger), Manuel appears to wish to convince himself as much as Retana: “I’ve got a lot of stuff.” Retana turns to the practical concerns of managing his business, but his statements emphasize the importance of audience to the bullfight. It matters only if the audience is present—unlike Nick’s fishing in “Big Two-Hearted River.” Like the heroes of ancient epics and sagas, the bullfighter puts his life at risk for a people. “The Undefeated” gives a great deal of attention to the worth of the audience but never minimizes its importance. For Retana, it’s all about money. Manuel would not draw, though in an earlier time he would have: “They don’t know who you are any more.” Manuel touts the youth of the current favorites: Litri, Rubito (The Blond One), and La Torre (The Tower), all “kids.” In the nocturnal, Manuel will work with “young” Hernandez and face two novillos (underaged or overaged bulls). These are names of current bullfighters. Since time present in the story is 1918, Hemingway can quietly parallel their forays into their craft in the very period when he was making his own. Manuel’s assignment with the young makes clear his standing in his profession—and his desperation. In Death in the Afternoon, Hemingway explains: “Novillada is a bullfight in which bulls which are under aged, or over aged, for a formal bullfight, that is, under four years and over five, or defective in vision or horn, are fought by bullfighters who have either never taken or renounced the title of matador de toros” (426). The majority of the deaths in the bullring come in the novilladas. The assignment will come late in the schedule—following the “Charlots,” the Charlie Chaplin comic routines. When Manuel inquires whose novillos he will face, Retana makes clear that the stock will be inferior; the question helps define the nature of the novillada. Manuel knows well their makeup, but he again sets aside the rational and repeats his conviction that substituting brings bad luck. He makes the ploy in the fading hope that Retana will give him a better assignment.

185:11–29 He leaned forward . . . in his pocket. Retana’s body language leaves no doubt that Manuel has but one possibility for a fight. Retana is not desperate to get Manuel. He wants to make a saving by replacing Larita, but he knows he can get others cheaply too. He tells himself, realizing how weak Manuel is, that he would like to help him. He would better “help” Manuel by refusing to give him a fight until he is stronger. The negotiation over the amount that Manuel will be paid qualifies considerably the amount of compassion Retana feels for “Manolo,” the familiar form of the name he uses to his own advantage in the negotiation. The negotiation exemplifies Hemingway’s statement in Death in the Afternoon about finances and the present-day novillada, which came about “through the desire to present a regular bullfight at less than formal prices due to the bulls being bargains and the men, due to a desire to present themselves and make a name, or to the fact that they have failed as formal matadors, are less exigent in their demands for money than the full matadors” (426–27). The fifty pesetas that Retana advances Manuel is all that Manuel’s participation ends up costing him. The bullfight represented many things to Hemingway—a heightened test of manhood; confrontation of one’s mortality; art of the highest order, comparable to tragedy—but he emphasized that the bullfight is also a business.

185:30–186:16 “What about” . . . until it clicked. Salary settled, Manuel inquires about the support team—the cuadrilla made up of bullfighters, picadors (who on their horses stab the bull, weakening it but also enraging it), and banderilleros (bullfighters who help run the bull with the cape and place the decorated barbed darts into the bull’s neck or shoulder muscles). These are matters Manuel more reasonably would have addressed before agreeing on that salary. Manuel knows well what the “boys” who work nights for Retana are like—and Retana refuses to fund the “one good pic” that Manuel insists that he needs. (Hemingway has shortened picador, giving it a more informal flavor; pic is not a term that a Spaniard would say or write. But for an English-speaking audience, Hemingway has good precedent on his side. Chaucer’s monk in The Canterbury Tales is a “prikasour,” a hunter on horseback: “Of prikyng [pricking or spurring a ho...