Hemingway's Nobel speech. Biography of Ernest Hemingway (photo) The life of a writer when he is at his best

What is loneliness? Everyone has their own answer to this question. For some, this condition occurs after a night spent in an empty house. Others may live in solitude for months (for example, at polar stations). But most of us still don’t like to be away from people for a long time.

Prolonged isolation has many unpleasant and even dangerous companions - from severe depression to cognitive impairment with irreparable consequences for health. Psychologist Julianne Holt-Lustadt found that people who experienced chronic social isolation had a 30% increased risk of death. If loneliness is so destructive, why would anyone strive for it?

Meanwhile, many poets, artists and philosophers spoke about the fruitfulness of time spent alone with oneself. Henry Thoreau, in his famous novel Walden, or Life in the Woods, praised solitude. “I find it helpful to spend most of my time alone. Society, even the best, soon tires and distracts from serious thoughts,” he wrote. Thoreau described his own experience: he lived for two years in a secluded hut, providing himself with everything he needed. True, once a week he went into the city to have lunch with friends.

People tend to think creatively when they feel excluded

The connection between loneliness and creativity is hard to deny. “The life of a writer, when he is at his best, is a lonely one,” Ernest Hemingway said in his Nobel Prize speech. “By getting rid of loneliness, he grows as a public figure, and often this is to the detriment of his creativity.” Mozart, Haydn, Goethe, Picasso, Tesla, Einstein and many others reported insights that came during periods of solitude.

Although loneliness can lead to painful soul-searching, doubts and fears, it can help us understand the world better. In an experiment by psychiatrists John and Stephanie Cacioppo, participants who said they were prone to loneliness responded faster than others to threat-related stimuli (we are talking about brain reactions that were recorded by a tomograph). John Cacioppo suggested that such people are more responsive and perceptive because they can keenly sense changes in the environment and the behavior of others.

There is another possible explanation. Sharon Kim, an organizational psychologist at Johns Hopkins University, has found that people tend to think creatively when they feel excluded. The most interesting thing is that there may not actually be any rejection. It's just that the atmosphere of aloofness somehow helps us see what others are passing by.

From an evolutionary perspective, loneliness is an important survival mechanism, says developmental psychologist Pamela Qualter. It encourages us to seek the company of others like us, so as not to be left without food and protection. Without a feeling of loneliness, we will not know the joy of communication and life together. “It is no coincidence that among those who are not capable of this experience there are many psychopaths,” explains John Cacioppo.

The desire for loneliness can take many forms. Wandering around rented apartments, abandoning long-term relationships, moving to another country - these actions may seem chaotic and harmful, but they are associated with self-preservation. In the modern world, our “I” risks dissolving into a huge number of social roles, statuses and situations in which we have to behave in a certain way. The result is alienation: we forget who we are, what we want and what we live for.

The craving for loneliness is a protective mechanism that protects our personality from disintegration, from being washed away under the pressure of an endless stream of “others.” Losing oneself, the ability to hear one’s voice and distinguish it in a discordant chorus of other people’s voices, is ultimately no less frightening than loneliness with all its pain and shortcomings.

One might say that there is a paradox in our attitude towards loneliness. We consider it good, but only when we ourselves seek it. We need it, like a cold shower that washes away dust and the touches of other people, cleansing our pores and sharpening our senses.

home with a music room.

In June 1917, Ernest graduated from school, where he had a fairly high

quality of teaching. Soon the boy had a desire to enlist in the army

and go to the front. But my father resolutely opposed this. I had to

obey. Father's younger brother Tyler, a large timber merchant, suggested

Ernest to come to Kansas City and work at the local newspaper. Job

reporter at the Kansas City Star liked Hemingway, but he didn’t

left the thought of the front.

At the end of April 1918, Ernest and a group of young people sailed from

New York on board the Chicago liner. They landed in Bordeaux, from where

went to Paris. From there, as the driver of Red's ambulance

Cross Hemingway was sent to Italy. In Milan he received his first

baptism of fire. There was an explosion at a military factory in the city and Ernest

the victims had to be evacuated. From now on, scenes of blood, death,

human suffering in his works became familiar to him.

In Milan, Hemingway was destined to experience his first great love,

which brought him much joy and great suffering. Agnes von Kurowski,

sister of the American Red Cross, became very attached to her brave

“ward” - sometimes ironic, sometimes cheerful, always somehow unexpected,

who did not consider himself a hero at all and was ashamed of his short military

biographies. But she was several years older than him and refused to become his

wife.

A total of 28 fragments were recovered, but about two hundred still remained

in his body. At first he was threatened with amputation of his leg and the danger that he

will remain disabled, unable to move.

Being an impressionable person, Ernest was unusually acutely worried

wound. But he managed to recover. The treatment process took about three

His experience at the front left a wound in his memory that would not heal.

Life confronted him with death very early, and he writes a lot about it. This

and the violent death of a hunter, matador, and death from disease, and mass

death of people in war.

His attitude towards death is complex. He is interested in how people behave

in the face of suffering and death, how one accepts death.

In January 1919, Hemingway returned home. At this time in his life

an important event occurred - meeting Hedley Richardson, a beginner

pianist, native of Saint Louis. Hadley was 7 years older than Hemingway. She

I just buried my mother, whom I cared for diligently, and

felt lonely. Tall, slender, with a pleasant appearance, Hadley

She was musical, well-read, and had an even temperament. Young in September

people got married.

At the end of 1922, Hemingway, who was in Paris, received an assignment from

newspapers - urgently go to Konstantinogul to cover the Greek-Turkish

conflict. This was the second war that Hemingway witnessed. TO

To Hadley's great joy, he soon returned unharmed from the Middle East.

Hemingway was not an easy person to get along with. His relationships with others

usually formed difficult. He was a tireless reader and collected a library,

which consisted of more than 7,400 volumes.

In 1926, Ernest's state of mind was by no means serene. IN

a new woman entered the writer’s life - Polina Pfeiffer, a young rich

American, daughter of an industrialist, president of a beer company in

Arkansas. Together with her sister Virginia, she lived in Paris, where

worked as editor of the local magazine "Fashion". Together with her sister, the girl became

to visit Hemingway's house, competing favorably with Hadley, modestly dressed and

absorbed in family matters.

Having filed a divorce from Hadley, the writer tried to provide as much as possible

financially for her and her son, allocating to them all the proceeds from the novel “The Sun Also Rises.”

Love for a woman often served as a source of inspiration for Hemingway in

It's time to write his best books. Agnes von Kurowski was the inspiration

the novel "A Farewell to Arms!", Martha Gellhorn, the writer's third wife, - the novel "Po

Whom the bell tolls”, to the young Italian Andriana Ivancic - dedicated “The Old Man and

sea". Duff Twoisden, unlike Polina Pfeiffer, did not dare, however,

invade Hemingway's family life.

At the end of May 1928, Ernest and Polina visited her parents in

the city of Pigott in Arkansas, after which Polina went to his parents. IN

June, while in Kansas City, she gave birth to her second son, who was named

Patrick. Throughout the second half of the year, Hemingway traveled around the country, was on

West, in New York.

At this time, 57-year-old Dr. Clarence Hemingway was seriously ill,

suffered from diabetes, in addition, he fell into financial difficulties and

experienced mental depression. When the father turned to his

brother George, a wealthy man, a bank director, then came across

refusal. This was the drop that overflowed the cup. Ernest Hemingway's brother

Lester, 13, who was home with a cold, remembers his father

came home for lunch and then went upstairs to the bedroom. In his

autobiographical novel "The Call of the Trumpet" Lester recalls how unexpectedly he

heard something like a shot. He went up to his father's room, which was

darkened. The father lay with his eyes closed on the bed and breathed heavily. Leicester

I put my hand under my father’s head and found blood. Father shot himself in the

head from a 32-caliber pistol, which belonged to the writer's grandfather

paternal side Anson Hemingway, a Civil War veteran.

The death of Dr. Hemingway shocked the writer. He called his father's action

“cowardice,” although he understood that he sacrificed himself in the name of his family, so that

help loved ones get out of financial difficulties with the help of insurance. After

After the death of his father, Ernest ordered to send a constant amount to his mother.

The suicide of his father will haunt the writer, he will return to this in

his works of the 30s.

At this time, Hemingway became already a famous writer. Visit him often

visitors come and look for acquaintance with him.

Having changed several apartments, Hemingway became the owner in December 1931

the beautiful two-story mansion he bought. Polina Pfeiffer took care of

so that the house is comfortable. She invested a lot of money and effort into the design.

interior of the mansion. The house was constantly modernized, in 1938 on the initiative of

Polina had a seawater pool built in her garden.

A proud person, endowed with self-esteem,

Hemingway strived to excel, to be a champion not only in writing

field. He sought to prove his superiority even in catching sea fish,

in the boxing ring, be the most accurate shooter.

In 1930, Hemingway was involved in a serious accident. Together with my friend,

writer Dos Passos, he was driving on a slippery road at high speed.

Ernest, who was driving, was blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car, but managed

turn to the side, and the car turned over and ended up in a ditch. Hemingway

received severe bruises, broken arms, several fingers, suffered

vision. The writer was taken to the nearest hospital, where for almost two hours

was on the operating table.

Throughout the following spring, 1931, Hemingway suffered from the consequences of this

accident: his hand hurt, he could hardly move the pen.

In November 1931, Polina gave birth to a boy, who was named Gregory.

So Ernest Hemingway became the father of three sons.

Meanwhile, in the early 30s. new love enters Hemingway's life. IN

September 1931, during a trip to New York, he met a couple

Masons, Jane and Grant. These were rich people. At the moment of meeting

Hemingway Jane was 22 years old. She shone with classical beauty. The president

Coolidge called her the most attractive woman ever to visit White

house. Polina watched the development of events not without alarm, but did not

took decisive steps. The writer apparently did not think about

seriously connect his life with Jane, in whom he was irritated by the craving for

luxury and unbalanced character. She even tried to commit suicide

suicide by jumping from the second floor.

was able to fulfill his old dream - to go to the British East

Africa to hunt.

In mid-January 1934, in the midst of a safari, Hemingway fell ill with an acute

a form of amoebic dysentery. He had to be taken out of the camp by plane.

After a week of intensive treatment, Ernest returns to Tanganyika, where

stayed until the rains came. His trophies included three killed lions, one

buffalo and twenty-seven different animals.

In Key West, the writer meets Martha Gellhorn, a young gifted

journalist. Martha was nine years younger than Hemingway. Between her and

Hemingway develops mutual sympathy.

At the end of 1944, Hemingway once again found himself in trouble.

One night, driving through the darkened streets of London in the car to the hotel

"Dorchester", he ran into a steel water storage tank. The writer received

concussion and numerous injuries: the operation in the hospital lasted two seconds

half an hour, surgeons put 57 stitches on him. Hemingway walked for a long time

tightly bandaged and could not get rid of the headache.

Autumn and winter 1944 - 1945. Hemingway spent time at the Ritz Hotel, alternating

rest and work with trips to the front. At the front he again became internally

collected, mobilized.

In March 1945, a writer from Paris moved to Cuba. Outcome of the war

was clear, and the writer hoped to return to his desk.

In the spring of 1945 in Cuba, Hemingway plunged into economic worries. On

on his estate he even wrote “E. Hemingway. Writer and farmer."

Soon Mary, with whom the writer had known for a long time, flew to Cuba, and

Now I have decided to formalize the marriage. His younger sons often visited the villa

Patrick and Gregory, joined by John, who returned from captivity. Father

was proud of his eldest son and said that the wound and scar on his right shoulder

They were the size of a large apple.

But even at this time the writer’s life was far from serene. Diseases and

injuries continued to haunt both Hemingway and his loved ones. In April 1947

during a visit to his mother, his sons Patrick and Gregory got into a small

car accident. At the same time, Patrick received a cranial injury, which

caused headaches. Then Patrick suffered a new misfortune: he fell through the

college entrance exams. After this he showed signs

mental illness. Patrick began to behave extremely aggressively

towards his father, he stopped eating. For a long time, the efforts of doctors did not

were successful. Hemingway feared for his son's life. His friends made up

a kind of medical team that cared for my son all the time. IN

In the end, unexpectedly, things began to improve for Patrick, and he stood up

At this time, Hemingway had to endure another blow: death

Maxwell Perkins, a trusted friend and long-time editor of his

works.

Winter 1948 - 1949 the writer spent time at the resort of Cortino d’Ampezzo, where

became interested in woodcock hunting. Another thing happened to Hemingway there.

trouble: during shooting, a wad from a bullet hit the eye, which caused

inflammatory process. The writer was admitted to a hospital in Padua, and doctors

There were serious concerns about blood poisoning, which could lead to loss of vision. IN

in the end everything ended well.

In August 1953, exactly 20 years later, Hemingway left for his second

African safari. He set sail from Marseilles and landed at the port

Mombasa in Kenya. Philip Percival, a 68-year-old white man, was also there.

hunter who accompanied him on safari in 1933

Soon after the hunt began, Hemingway shot his first lion. The same

Mary, who arrived with her husband, also had booty. As in 1933,

the writer used his Springfield gun. However, success alternated

Hemingway with mistakes: age and excessive alcohol consumption had an effect

drinks. The writer, who loved competition in everything, was acutely worried when

some were luckier. The writer seemed to be trying to forget about age and return

lost youth.

Throughout the autumn of 1953, the camp roamed around Tanganyika, within the vast

hunting reserve. Hemingway was in a cheerful mood,

fantasized, taught local children to drive a car. Here he became friends with

people from the local Maasai tribe and even dyed his clothes in their colors.

He also tried, in the Masai spirit, to hunt a leopard with a spear. Writer

learned some customs of the inhabitants of the African jungle. Here he met

new, 1954

At the end of January, Hemingway took off from Nairobi airfield with pilot Roy Marsh

on board a small Chesna aircraft for a bird's eye view

admire the volcanoes and lakes of Africa. He saw the famous peak

Kilimanjaro, the picturesque shores of Lake Victoria, waterfalls. Mary succeeded

take a lot of pictures.

During the third flight, the plane collided with a large flock of birds,

the car lost control, began to descend sharply and hit, damaging

propeller, on a telegraph pole. The passengers survived, but received

many injuries. Mary broke two ribs, and Hemingway was seriously injured

right shoulder. We had to spend the night by the fire near the elephant camp.

A plane was sent to search for the victims, but the sound of the waterfall drowned it out

hum The pilot found traces of the accident and reported that all passengers were killed.

Suddenly in the morning a steamboat appeared on the river. Desperate screams

the victims attracted the attention of the crew. It turned out later that

the ship was chartered by director John Haston, who filmed here

film "The African Queen". Hemingway and his companions were taken to the village

Butiaba on the shores of Lake Albert.

However, trouble does not come alone. To pick up the victims, he was sent

another plane. It was an X-89 de Havilland Rapid car,

piloted by Reginald Cartwright. The airfield was like this

disgusting condition, that during takeoff the plane collided with numerous

holes and hummocks. The car shook violently and was thrown in different directions. Barely

Having taken off from the ground, the plane caught fire and crashed. She was the first to get out of the cabin.

Mary, then Roy Marsh, then Cartwright. The last ones from the cabin succeeded

Hemingway get out. He received numerous serious injuries, in particular

heads. Suffering from pain and bleeding, the writer traveled 50 miles

to the hospital in Masindi village. Hemingway later admitted that it was the most

a painful and long journey in his life.

Then another move was required. The writer was taken to a decent

hospital in Entebbe in Uganda. There for some time the writer was between

life and death. He suffered from noise in the head, pain in different parts of the body,

hearing impairment. Under these conditions, Hemingway mobilized all his courage.

While in the hospital, the writer read in many reputable publications

reports of his death in a plane crash and numerous obituaries,

published on this occasion. Hemingway had no choice but to laugh it off

Mark Twain's famous phrase: “Rumors of my death are exaggerated.” However

least he cut out and kept all such messages.

Despite his poor physical condition and constant pain, Hemingway

dictated an article for the magazine “Luk”, in which he told about all the misfortunes,

which have recently fallen on his head. But that's it

the troubles are not over. Not far from the Shimoni hunting camp, where this

While the writer was resting, a forest fire broke out. Despite the bad

feeling well, Hemingway began to help fight the fire and fell into the flames. His

his clothes caught fire and he suffered numerous serious burns.

From Mombama on the ship "Africa" ​​Hemingway went to Italy. One

from clinics in Venice, the writer underwent a course of treatment.

At the end of October 1954, the writer received news that he had been awarded

Nobel Prize. Due to health reasons he was unable to attend

award ceremony. He was represented in Stockholm by the American Ambassador

in Sweden, John Cabot, who read Hemingway's greeting. There's a writer in it

reported that he accepted the award “with humility” and expressed his favorite thought

that “the life of a writer, when he is at his best, is spent alone.”

Despite deteriorating health, severe physical and mental

condition, the writer waged a difficult struggle with himself, trying to maintain

creative form. “All work and no play,” he said.

At the end of January 1960, the writer arrived in Cuba. But I stayed here

not for long. Soon he decided to visit Spain again. There he meets

his old acquaintance Bill Davis, a wealthy American. Bill this time

was amazed by the profound changes that occurred with the writer. He was

sick, tired, irritated. In addition, Hemingway showed obvious mental

disorders - persecution mania. The writer constantly felt that he

is under the FBI's surveillance.

In November 1960, Hemingway was sent to the Rochester Clinic in the state

Minnesota. Here he was under the name of George Savier. However, the newspapermen

They soon figured him out. The writer began to receive numerous letters

sympathy.

At the end of January 1961, after 53 days in the clinic, Hemingway

discharged and returned to Ketchum. Three days later he already wrote: “I’m working again with

tension." Every morning he got up at seven in the morning and sat down to write

The writer began to experience streaks of depression. The consciousness that he

it becomes more and more difficult to write, my memory fails, it was so painful,

that sometimes Hemingway could not hold back his tears.

One day Mary went down to the first floor and noticed a gun in her husband’s hands,

which he was about to charge. The husband clearly attempted suicide. Mary

began to persuade him not to do this, reminded him of his courage, of three

sons.

At the end of April, Hemingway was sent to the clinic for the second time. There's a writer here

were subjected to intensive treatment, including electric shock. This procedure

weakened the writer’s will and had a detrimental effect on his memory.

At the end of June, the writer began to insist on returning home. His

discharged, although Mary asked not to do this. Having overcome 1700 by car

The Hemingways met with their friends. It seemed like there was no sign

Everyone was still asleep in the house. The writer put on his red robe, which as a joke

called it “imperial,” and went down to the basement of the house. There was a room there

where the weapons were kept. The door was locked. Hemingway found the keys

chose a double-barreled shotgun, put two cartridges into it and climbed into his

cabinet. Then he put the muzzle to his head and pulled the trigger.

hunting, on the slope of a green hill, in view of the distant mountains...

According to his will, the house in Cuba and everything that was collected in it over

than in twenty years - books, paintings, works of applied art,

hunting trophies, as well as the famous old typewriter, were handed over

by his widow Mary Hemingway as a gift to the Cuban people.

Members of the Swedish Academy, ladies and gentlemen!

Not being a master of speeches, not experienced in rhetoric and oratory, I want to thank for this award those who manage the generous donation of Alfred Nobel.

Every writer who knows which great writers have not received this prize in the past accepts it with a sense of humility. There is no need to list these great ones - each of those present here can make their own list, in accordance with their knowledge and their conscience.

I do not consider it possible to ask the ambassador of my homeland to read a speech in which the writer would express everything that is in his heart. What a person writes may contain thoughts that escape at first perception, and it happens that the writer benefits from this; but sooner or later these thoughts emerge quite clearly, and it is from them, as well as from the degree of talent with which the writer is endowed, that depends whether his name will endure for centuries or be forgotten.

The life of a writer, when he is at his best, is spent alone. Writers' organizations may alleviate his loneliness, but they hardly improve the quality of his work. Getting rid of loneliness, he grows as a public figure, and often this is to the detriment of his creativity. For he creates alone, and if he is a good enough writer, his job is to see eternity or the absence of it, day after day.

For a true writer, every book should be a beginning, a new attempt to achieve something unattainable. He must always strive for what no one has yet accomplished or what others before him tried to accomplish, but failed. Then, if he is very lucky, he may succeed.

How easy it would be to create literature if all that was required was to write in a new way about something that has already been written about, and written well. It is precisely because we had such great writers in the past that the modern writer is forced to go so far, beyond what is available to him, to where no one can help him.

Well, I've already said too much. Whatever a writer dares to say to people, he should not say, but write. Thank you again.

"Mark Twain Journal", 1962

Note ed.: I was not personally present at the award ceremony. On his instructions, the speech was read by the US Ambassador to Sweden.

The craft of a writer is a solitary craft. Gordon Smith. // The writer is more of a stranger, an outside observer, than an active member of society. I remember, back in Leningrad, I wrote a poem and went out for a walk. And suddenly I thought: “What do I have in common with these people?” You become a product of your own words, and the outside world begins to crowd you out. Joseph Brodsky. // The life of a writer, when he is at his best, is spent alone. The more you write, the more lonely you become. Ernest Hemingway. // In the highest sphere, where humanity turns its sad gaze, the icy wind of bitter loneliness always blows. It is the one who creates for everyone who remains alone. Stefan Zweig. // I have lived creatively for so long, isolated in book characters, that it seems to me as if there is no real world, there are only my heroes. Scott Fitzgerald. // ...finally moved to the notebook. Marina Tsvetaeva. // What are these tens of thousands of lines written in small handwriting or typed? These are tens of thousands of hours spent alone in an office. Georges Simenon. // The work of a creator is a terribly lonely task. To be a real writer means to be lonely. Mikhail Prishvin. // The more original you are, the more complete your loneliness. Gilbert Chesterton. // Every true writer inevitably ends up lonely. It cannot be otherwise. At a certain stage of his creative path, he notices that he has entered into it. Georgy Adamovich. // He who ascends the path of word creation reaches the pinnacle of prophecy, receiving as a reward the bite of the poisonous snake of loneliness. Vladimir Zyuskin. // Be skillful and you will remain alone. Mark Twain. // At the pinnacle of success there is loneliness and cold, loneliness and cold. Judy Garland. // The strongest people are the loneliest. Henrik Ibsen. // “Everything is for the better, you win!” - I said after seventeen years of separation. “I don’t think it was easier for you,” Brodsky answered dryly. “Me?.. I taught, translated for income. Besides, you have Nobel...” A gloomy answer followed: “But you had someone to call!” Alexander Kushner. // This is true, I have no friends. Marina Tsvetaeva. // ...I haven’t found a friend in a century. Yuri Kuznetsov. // The higher you climb the hierarchical ladder, the stronger the loneliness. Georges Simenon. // Great people must feel great sadness on earth. Fedor Dostoevsky. // In one of the interviews, a question was asked about the hopeless loneliness that emanates from his poems. “Yes, it is,” Brodsky agreed. “Akhmatova said the same thing.” The hatred of some, the envy of others, the misunderstanding of others. The author's fatal loneliness increases gradually. A man of genius does not find equals or friends. The Nobel Prize only deepened the uncrossable line. // It’s scary to mature to the height at which you remain alone. Ivan Kramskoy. // But even the thought of – what’s his name! – immortality is the thought of loneliness, my friend. The better the poet, the more terrible his loneliness. Joseph Brodsky. // ...and with a chill I felt the cold, shiny crown of loneliness on my head. Alexander Solzhenitsyn. // ...collapsed into himself as if into an abyss! Anna Akhmatova.