to Arms is one of the most famous war novels ever written.
Unlike many war stories, however, the novel does not glorify the
experience of combat or offer us portraits of heroes as they are
traditionally conceived. What is the novel’s attitude toward war?
Is it fair to call A Farewell to Arms an antiwar
As the title suggests, A Farewell
to Arms is in many ways an antiwar novel, but it would
not be fair to connect this novel with a literature of pacifism
or social protest. In the novel’s value system, violence is not
necessarily wrong—neither Henry nor Bonello feels any remorse for
shooting the engineering sergeant, and the reader believes Henry
when he tells Catherine that he will kill the police if they come
to arrest him. Furthermore, the novel glorifies discipline, competence,
and masculinity and portrays war as a setting in which those qualities
are constantly on display.
Nevertheless, A Farewell to Arms opposes
the thoughtless violence, massive destruction, and sheer senselessness
of war. It also criticizes the psychological damage that war inflicts
on individuals and populations and its brutal upheaval of the lives
of survivors. In the face of such devastation, the novel posits,
victory and defeat are meaningless terms. Unlike many novels that
glorify courage in battle, A Farewell to Arms attempts
to give a realistic portrayal of a terrifying and, at the time of
World War I, new kind of war. Never before had men fought with machines
and artillery capable of bringing about such annihilation. Still,
the aim of the novel is not to protest war or encourage peace; it
is simply to depict the hostility and violence of a universe in
which such a conflict is possible.
the various ways in which characters seek solace from the pains
of a war-ravaged world. In the end, what does the novel suggest
about such comforts?
From the beginning of the novel, nearly every
character has a habit to which he or she turns to help alleviate
his or her private suffering. Mourning the death of her fiancé,
Catherine plays a distracting game of seduction with Henry. Rinaldi
loses himself in the comforts of women, while the priest uses his
faith in God to ease the pain of the war and the ruthless taunting
of the soldiers. Nearly all of the characters rely heavily on alcohol
to numb the daily assaults of the war, both physical and emotional.
The most appealing of all of these comforts is
love, which Hemingway explores for its power to endow characters
with a sense of security. Upon meeting, Henry and Catherine imitate
conventional courtship, speaking words that seem stolen from a scripted
romance. They engage in such behavior, they admit, in order to take
their minds off the war. As their love grows stronger and more legitimate,
they continue to treat it as a protective shelter: Henry abandons
the army and ends up living in the supposed safety of neutral Switzerland.
In the end, however, nothing offers lasting protection.
Rinaldi, Henry suspects, has succumbed to syphilis, reflecting the
degenerate nature of Rinaldi’s values. The priest’s philosophies
regarding God are outdone by Henry’s belief in the hollowness of
lofty abstractions. Catherine, despite her all-consuming love, dies
in childbirth. The novel suggests that no matter where characters
turn for solace from the harsh circumstances of the world, the need
for comfort and protection can never be fulfilled.
Frederic Henry as a narrator. Assuming that, as a character, he
is writing his story many years after living it, how does he convey
its sense of extreme immediacy?
The descriptive immediacy of A Farewell
to Arms is the novel’s most distinctive feature, and Hemingway
achieves it through a simple, but expertly executed, technique:
he allows Henry, as the narrator, to describe events according to
his own perception and memories. The story never strays from Henry’s
vantage point. Even panoramic scenes of war and the afflicted Italian
countryside, such as the passages describing the great retreat,
are filtered through Henry’s eyes—the reader sees only what Henry
sees. Because Hemingway never offers objective narration (in which
an omniscient, omnipresent voice tells the story), he must render
the chaos and confusion and brutality of war by using only Henry’s
experiences. In choosing these experiences so skillfully, Hemingway
is able to communicate the bleakness of one of the most traumatic
times in world history—World War I—by focusing, for instance, on
a conflict between two men: when Henry shoots the fleeing engineering
sergeant, his actions convey the grim reality of a world that enables
him to behave in such a way.
Additionally, the lack of other viewpoints contributes
to the immediacy of the story—Henry, as though he is perpetually
too engrossed in the moment to think outside of himself, never imagines the
perceptions or feelings of other characters. He does not, for instance,
presume to know what Catherine thinks or that she ever thinks anything
other than what she says. Like a reporter, he simply reports what
he sees and hears. This technique binds the reader to Henry’s experience,
and interpretation, of the events that he details.