Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls might strike one as an intimidating classic, with an intimidating subject matter (the Spanish Civil War), and a pretty sizable page count.  But rest assured, the writing is just classic Hemingway, and the pages float by as pleasantly as anything else you’ve enjoyed by Hemingway, if not better.   

As Hemingway’s grandson Sean Heminway put it: 

“For Whom the Bell Tolls is Hemingway’s longest and, for many readers, finest novel and his most in-depth treatment of war.” (xii). 

The novel does not lack for critical acclaim.  Yet I suspect that its length alone makes it a less discussed and studied book such as Old Man and the Sea, for example.  But again, though the novel is fairly long, it doesn’t feel that way to read it.  This may be attributed to its laser focus on a particular space of time and discrete events; and the writing style is anything but ponderous. 

It sounded a bit sacrilegious when a colleague, who happened to be reading the novel at the same time as me, commented that he thought the book began too slowly and then its pace was clunky.  He further commented, rather incredibly, that there was too much “tell” rather than “show.”  Didn’t Hemingway invent that concept, I thought to myself sardonically?  But meeting such ignorant commentary on Hemingway from an otherwise intelligent person forced me to articulate what was so fine about For Whom the Bell Tolls, and I found I had something to say on that score indeed. 

What is special about the novel and what can we notice from the outset?  First, there is Hemingway’s classic witty dialogue–the ironic banter between the characters.  This could be lost on a less sensitive reader, it could go over their head.  But they might be better served by, I don’t know, young adult literature?  

Then there is Hemingway’s method of bringing into focus a very small part of a much wider conflict.  This is to say that we’re drawn into the day to day affairs of one specific part of the three year Spanish Civil War in a very specific locale, one that is not necessarily vital to the outcome of the war.  Yet this allows us to experience the humanity of the war, the hum-drum day to day existence of fighters on the Republican side. 

War will never be like this again

There is also the romance of war which makes For Whom the Bell Tolls delightful–along with other Hemingway works such as Farewell to Arms. When Robert Jordan eyes the bridge and sketches in his notebook his plan to blow it up, that is something much more human than operating a drone in an air conditioned office.  

War will never be like this again, something we can experience vicariously through Hemingway’s experience; and of course Hemingway witnessed the Spanish Civil War first hand. 

Indeed, war is still a masculine affair, although For Whom the Bell Tolls features some important female characters.  This includes Maria, who is described rapturously through Robert Jordan’s eyes, and Pablo’s wife Pilar, who is describe in terms of a manly but admirable toughness.  

Masculinity 

Furthermore, For Whom the Bell Tolls is about what it means to be a man, how to comport oneself in this regard, especially in the context of a war.  Our hero, Robert Jordan, asks Anselmo: 

“Hast thou ever been in a battle?”  

Anselmo testifies that he can’t really say he has, given that they just ran away: 

“...we were beaten and we ran.  I ran with the others.  We did not truly understand what we were doing, nor how it should be done” (42).  

But when Anselmo asks Jordan if he’s been in battle, Jordan responds laconically, “several,” and we like to imagine he acquitted himself well, that he proved himself.  He doesn’t like to kill people, even if they’re fascists.  But he understands that that’s his job, as a small part of the war effort; it’s not his place to dispute his orders.  However, when a guard for the Republic cannot remember the password to let Anselmo and Jordan pass, and they never were told the password anyway, it tends to bode poorly for the Republican cause, against the presumably better organized fascists. 

But at least Anselmo is willing to carry out the operation to blow up the bridge.  The putative leader of the group, Pablo, is having grave doubts, based on what he refers to as a concern over “safety.”  His wife points out that there is no such thing as safety, much less in a war.  Our hero, Robert Jordan, however, has a steely determination to attack the bridge and its sentries. 

What’s more, Jordan is hard drinking (kind of like a certain writer) absinthe mixed with water, in this case, then chased with some wine if possible.  It is certainly a motif of Hemingway’s writing that his protagonists are a stand in for him, and that seems to be the case with Robert Jordan too, given the character’s stoicism and courage under fire.  What’s more, Hemingway was embedded in the Spanish Civil War as a journalist.  

Robert Jordan is a man not afraid to die, as he tells Pilar “truly.”  What is his only fear? 

“Only of not doing my duty as I should” (94).  

Now that is a real man, without too much regard for his own life, while dedicated to a higher cause which he believes in fervently, in this case, the cause of the Republic. 

On the other hand, you wouldn’t exactly say that For Whom the Bell Tolls is super-charged with machismo.  Pablo’s mujer, after all, seems to wear the pants in the relationship and also is a leader for the whole group.  Pablo accepts her assertiveness with a quiet dignity, basically telling her, ok, you want to be in charge?  Good luck.  

One could be forgiven if they referred to this character simply as “Pablo’s woman,” or just “woman.”  But she also happens to have a name, Pilar, which is not used too often.  Could this be a microaggression for feminists to stew over?  

Comment below: