Sublime

Ernest’s zest for life was infectious.

They have remained in the museum of my mind.

Ernest captured not only the events but, more important, the emotional nuances that gave the book its thrust.

“Pauline had been writing me, sending cables, making sure I kept her in my sights.

“I think things started to fall apart with the Murphys when they flattered me into reading aloud from The Sun Also Rises to a group of their friends. I thoroughly disliked blowing my own horn, and what’s more, I came to realize they were showing me off like a prize horse.”

wrote about Scott, for example, but I gave him a cover name: Julian [in “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”].

Ernest signaled the waiter to replenish the daiquiris. Looking at my littered plate, he gave me a puzzled look. “Why’d you leave the shrimp heads? That’s the best part.” He picked one up and crunched it happily. I crunched one but not happily.

“Yes but not for long. Poor Scott. Terribly black-ass. He’d come to collect some things he’d left in storage.” “Was he with Zelda?” “No, he had to put her somewhere for safekeeping. He was feeling bereft and sorry for himself, and for her. We were having dinner at the Closerie. ‘Just imagine,’ he said, ‘ten years ago we were the Golden Girl and her

there was a sense of bonding from the very beginning, a sense of brotherhood, a right to intrude on each other’s lives, as if we were somehow responsible for the other one’s missteps and misdemeanors.