Brett is not a Brat.

Many of my peers, mostly male just to point out, believe that Brett is a terrible character who can be characterized by another five lettered word that starts with a "b." I disagree, quite strongly. Primarily, there is the problem with the narration through Jake's perspective. No matter how stoic a character he may seem on the surface, he does subtly inject self-sympathy into the story. Jake portrays Brett as a complex, unattainable love interest who plays around and has a lonely life. He loves her, there's no doubt about that, but he's forcing his love for her to take precedence over her love for him. In other words, the readers can see and coo over how much Jake thinks of Brett, but cannot gain access to her thoughts. To them, Brett is a party girl with a sad history and promiscuity as wide and as deep as the sea. In a way, they are correct because she does taken on those characteristics, but on the other hand, they are absolutely wrong.

When I analyze Brett, I see her as a tragic figure. Her true love - one that must have been something to ensnare her - died in the war, and her next love (assuming her first true love wasn't Jake's masculinity because that would just be shallow) cannot provide her with the comfort she needs. She marries the first man, an abusive tyrant, who comes along and suffers terribly. And despite her great looks and lovely personality, she has an inferiority complex. She drinks to cover it up, sleeps around to hide it, and cannot be with Jake absolutely because of it. For Brett, I think, Jake is the perfect man, one who cannot taint a relationship with sex and whatnots. While she is drawn to that idea (as we all are attracted to something ideal), she is too insecure of herself to jump for it. Instead, she finds temporary solace in the flawed guys such as Mike and Robert.

Perhaps my analysis is bias and skewed. That's your opinion. But everyone has their faults, some more obviously than the other. If you are willing to forgive Jake for his inability to communicate his love and need, then you ought to consider pardoning Brett for her insecurities.

Crazy Cohn.

I really dislike Cohn. It's a very straightforward feeling. I don't even care that he's Jewish for that fact has nothing to do with my judgment of him. It's the way he talks, the way he's awkwardly trailing after Brett, the way he sends Frances away, and the way he's so easily susceptible to others' influences. Like Jake, I do not consider him a masculine figure, certainly not one worthy of Brett's love. At best, Cohn is pitiable, rather like a puppy. Brett takes him to San Sebastian out of pity, Jake befriends him to offer him advice - reading the interactions between the two, I think Jake is very much motivated by a feeling of sympathy and perhaps a bit of jealousy for Cohn still has his life, his masculinity, but he's squandering it away.

And then there's the fact Cohn's a punching machine. He's extremely volatile, almost naively so. He has a complete lack of control over his emotions and resorts to the most brutal and crude way of expressing his rage. Unlike Jake and Bill, and to a certain extent Mike, Cohn is unbelievably sensitive. It's almost feminine the way feelings leap and soar in him. It's a terrible weak trait in a Hemingway hero, and it certainly not admirable. It makes him susceptible to others' derision and an easy target. I do not condone the way Mike jeers over his Jewish ancestry, but there is a shade of justification for Mike. Cohn hangs around Brett like an adoring knight, which would be fine, almost sweet if you were utterly romantic, but he thinks too highly of himself. For he sees Brett as a woman to be claimed and protected by him, hero extraordinaire, when she doesn't need him and certainly doesn't want him.

Why does the sun also rise?

Last night, as I finished perusing the book, I closed it and stared at the cover. There, the title of the novel, a perplexing yet poetic title, stared back at me. What was this? What does it mean, I wondered. Why did Hemingway choose such an ambiguous almost lyrical title for his book. Sure there's something masculine about the Sun, hint Apollo, but is this ultimately a book about men? The Sun is bright, constant, and arbitrary. When it shines, it does so passionately, but when there's rain, it shies away behind the clouds. Are we supposed to interpret that strange, changing nature of the Sun to be the theme of the novel? Does it explain the irrational behavior of our heros and heroine? 

Or is the focus of the book rather centered on the words "also rises?" For there is something profound about the two words. Rise, and rise again, and again. It suggests a motif of resiliency, of life constantly pushing and churning against obstacles, and succeeding. There is something that hints at Jacob Barnes and Brett and all the rest, maybe except for Cohn. They are all veterans of war, one of the most devastating wars in history then known. It has cost them and left behind varying shades of damage. And yet they have survived. They have loved and lost, fought and been beaten. Life goes on, and the sun will also rise. 

Jake as Septimus

I didn't believe that a book could be more sorrowful than Mrs. Dalloway until I read The Sun Also Rises. God, the latter was just like a punch to the gut. Jake Barnes, an incredibly normal and respectable guy, is so very much like Septimus Smith. There is something fundamentally lacking about Jake and this wound, physical and physiological, prevents him from seeking the love that he so obviously desires. And yet everywhere, he is bombarded with other people in love. Walking in the street, he notices "a man and a girl... walking with their arms around each other (83)." He silently criticizes the careless matrimonial behavior of Robert Cohn, and derides the crowd of chaps that follow Brett around who are so thoughtless with their gift to procreate life. 

Septimus too suffered from his inability to feel particularly because everyone around him showered him with feelings. To realize that you lack something so essentially ingrained in everyone else is a frightening realization. It is an unbelievably lonely feeling. To escape it, Septimus commits suicide and Jake exhibits bitter behavior. What Jake will do though remains to be seen.