A Fish, a Lion, and an Elephant: The Presentation of Animals in the Work of Ernest Hemingway

James Ralley
040152651 The University of Sheffield BA English Literature LIT386: Dissertation May 2007 Word Count: 9,997

Contents
Introduction PART ONE: Fishing in the Abyss
Section One: The New Words Section Two: The Old Mans Friends Section Three: The Platonic Fish 4 7 13 1

PART TWO: The Hunt for a Voice

Section One: The Jaguars Body Section Two: The Lions Mouth Section Three: The Elephants Eye 19 23 29

Conclusion
Bibliography 34

32

Introduction
Encountering animals is unavoidable when reading Hemingway. From the bullfights of Pamplona, to the hunting grounds of Kenya, Hemingways animals are there. They are present outside of his texts also; the grounds of his house in Key West teem with polydactyl cats. Indeed, Hemingway received the Nobel Prize in 1954 for his mastery of the art of narrative, most recently demonstrated in The Old Man and the Sea, and for the influence that he has exerted on contemporary style.1 It was this novella about the battle between an old man and a marlin that brought him Nobel recognition. Whilst animals are all over Hemingways work, most apparent is the fact that the majority of them exist to be killed: bulls for fighting; fish for fishing; lions, elephant, and birds for hunting. I explore the ways in which Hemingway presents animals, specifically the marlin in The Old Man and the Sea, the lion in The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, and the elephant in An African Story. The theorist at the core of my discussion is Jacques Derrida. His recently published lecture, The Animal that Therefore I Am (More to Follow), deals with the ways in which man defines the animal as that which is not man: as other. Derrida introduces terms that, following explication, enable me to define the specific ways in which Hemingway writes about animals, and to ascertain just what those animals are.
1

The Nobel Prize in Literature 1954, Nobelprize.org <http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/ laureates/ 1954/index.html> [accessed 20 May 2007]

2 Derrida is a familiar figure in the field of animal studies, and the lecture that informs my discussion has been used most notably by Cary Wolfe in his book Animal Rites, and by David Wood in his essay Thinking With Cats. To begin, I undertake a systematic explication of the key ideas present in Derridas lecture. I unpick and define his dense terms, the abyss, asinanity, and lanimot. Having established a theoretical standpoint I progress onto a close reading of Hemingways The Old Man and the Sea. First I look at the physical similarities between the old man and the marlin, and how this sets up an intimate relationship between them. I then talk about the physical connection that the fishing line provides, and how it seems to bridge Derridas abyss, and how Hemingway attempts to create a homogeneous community between man and animal. From here I go on to explain how this community is ultimately an illusion, and how the relationship between the old man and the marlin is predicated on the fact that they are hunter and prey. Through analysis of the ways in which the old man perceives his relationship with the marlin, I describe how these perceptions actually create and sustain the unbridgeable gap between the two. As a final site of inquiry I examine Hemingways use of allegory in the novella, and ask whether the marlin conforms to Derridas theory of lanimot. By addressing the prevalence of overt Christian symbolism, I debunk Hemingways claim that he wrote real characters, and that from there the metaphorical meaning spontaneously arose. I then show how the story is like a parable, and how it adheres strictly to ritualistic hunting codes. I end this section by looking at the final lines of the novella and explaining their importance in erasing any individuality that the marlin may once have possessed. After exploring the metaphorical significance of one of Hemingways animals, I move on to the ways in which he attempts to provide another with a voice.

3 Returning to Derrida, I explicate the theories of auto-motricity and

autobiograparaphy, and explain how they allow animals to communicate through movementI also talk about how the marlins status as a textual animal complicates this idea. Next, I discuss the ideas of J. M. Coetzees fictional character of Elizabeth Costello, as expounded in his lecture-within-a-lecture The Poets and the Animals. Costello focuses on Ted Hughess poems The Jaguar and Second Glance at a Jaguar; her ideas on the imaginative power of literature inform much of the subsequent debate. Returning to Hemingway, I look at his presentation of the dying lion in Macomber, and how he guides the reader to identification with this animal. After revisiting the shiver that connected the old man to his animals, I use H. Peter Steevess essay They Say Animals Can Smell Fear and Costellos idea of poetic invention to identify how the site of fear displays an intersubjectivity between man and animal, and how this allows the reader to borrow the animals subjectivity for a time. Following this is an explication of Steven W. Laycocks theory that man imposes his own voice upon the animals he attempts to speak foras put forth in his essay The Animal as Animal: A Plea For Open Conceptuality. I use these ideas to denounce Hemingways ability to provide the lion with a voice. Finally, I undertake an analysis of Hemingways short story An African Story, in which he avoids the ventriloquism that Laycock condemns, and allows the central animal to retain its individuality.

PART ONE: Fishing in the Abyss

Section One: The New Words
Derridas lecture is replete with wordplay, and populated with new words. To understand the ideas contained within, parts of the lecture require detailed explication. I begin where Derrida sets up the two opposing ideas of man and animal. In his redefinition: man/a man/men becomes that which calls itself man; likewise, animal/an animal/animals becomes that which he (man) calls an animal.2 Derrida talks of a rift that separates these two groups. He then goes further and expands this idea into an abyssal rupture between the two.3 The abyss between the two cannot be crossed. There is not just a limit at each side of this rupture, but an abyssal limit: imagine an infinitely deep chasm, with an emblem of man standing on one side and one of animal squatting on the other. However, the abysswhich he accepts as utterly realis not to be imagined as two opposing parallel lines. Belief in this model would constitute an asinanity.4 Instead of these parallel opposing modes of existence, the abyssal rupture must be seen as a multiple and heterogeneous border, or a plural and repeatedly folded frontier.5 Heterogeneity and plurality are

Jacques Derrida, The Animal that Therefore I Am (More to Follow), in Animal Philosophy: Essential Readings in Continental Thought, eds. Matthew Calarco & Peter Atterton (New York: Continuum, 2004), p. 251 3 Derrida, p. 251 4 Derrida, p. 253-254. This is a neologism combining the terms asinine and inane. The use of animalistic terminology (in the word asinine) is the translators way to emphasize Derridas linguistic playfulness. 5 Derrida, p. 252

5 crucial to Derridas idea that there are countless differing borders to the abyss. Imagine the border as a kind of infinitely complex work of origami. There is one piece of paperjust as there is an identifiable abyss but at every foldor binary oppositionthere are multiple other folds, and what at first seemed simple becomes this complex collection of concepts that exist within and outside of each other, and can all be unfolded to reveal further structures. To elucidate by example: Mans ability to laugh distinguishes him from animals. The argument may asinanely stop there. However, if this dyad is examined more closely then the need appears to define further the concept of laughter, of man, of animal, of joy, sound, fear: a perpetual defining of terms begins. Derridas model of the abyss shows man/animal relationships as infinitely more complex than the asinane view would define them as. Of paramount importance is Derridas belief that this abyss between man and (what man calls) animal is undeniably present. Derrida criticizes the assumption that there is this binary pair of man and animal. The animal that is referred to here would in fact be, the Animal (note the capitalization), in the singular and without further ado, claiming thus to designate every living thing that is held not to be man.6 An animal must be recognized as part of what Derrida tentatively calls, a heterogeneous multiplicity of the living.7 He denies the existence of a collective Other, out there, beyond man, that can be forced into this general singular noun, the Animal. As a remedy to this forced categorization, Derrida proposes a replacement for the Animal: lanimot. This neologism is homophonous with animauxthe French plural, meaning the animalsand yet the definite article, l, denotes a singular grammatical construction. Matthew Calarco describes Derridas term as denoting a singular,
6 7

Derrida, p. 253 Derrida, p. 253

6 living being that cannot be subsumed under any species concept.8 This concept is about recognizing the individuality of individual animals: animot is equivalent to the I in human terms. Derrida also says that the suffix mot in lanimot should bring us back to the word, namely, to the word named a noun.9 He uses this idea to highlight one of the borders of the abyss between man and animal: that of language. Animals are named by humans, and in those names are collected all of the ideas that man associates with that animal. The animal, having a name, a textual signifier, becomes a text itself. I showed above how Derridas term, lanimot, leads to the view of animals as having ipseity. 10 The deliberate and self-conscious wordplay enacted in the very word animot, shows the textuality of that which man calls animal. Derrida asks, what is said in the name of the animal when one appeals to the name of the animal.11 What underlies the words man uses when talking about animals? Or in this case, what is the metaphorical significance of these textual animals in Hemingways work? David Wood, in his exploratory essay on Derridas lecture, notes that many animals are symbolically deployed as boundary negotiating operators, servants themselves, that is, of an abyss at least.12 Animals are used by man to explain and interact with the world. In his section on Hemingway in Animal Rites, Cary Wolfe explains how, what he terms, the discourse of species serves as a crucial off sitean/other site where problems of race or gender may be either solved or reopened by being

Matthew Calarco, The Question of the Animal, <http://www.electronicbookreview.com/thread/ criticalecologies/animot> [accessed 15 April 2007] 9 Derrida, p. 257 10 Ipseity: Personal identity and individuality; selfhood. (OED) 11 Derrida, p. 261 12 David Wood, Thinking With Cats, in Animal Philosophy: Essential Readings in Continental Thought, eds, Matthew Calarco & Peter Atterton (New York: Continuum, 2004), p. 282. Here Wood alludes to abysses other than Derridas Man/Animal abyss. His example is a life/death abyss.

7 recoded as problems of species.13 The site of the animal is used metaphorically to deal covertly with troubling issues.

Section Two: The Old Mans Friends

Derrida says that the I is anybody at all; I am anybody at all and anybody at all must be able to say I to refer to herself, to his own singularity.14 The concurrence of universality and individuality within this single concept of I is expressed in The Old Man and the Sea. The novella is foremost about an encounter between a man and an animal, specifically a marlin.15 The titular old man is named Santiago. His name is only used four times in the novella. For the rest of the time the narrator uses the old man, and never Santiago. This combination of the definite article, the, and the impersonal, descriptive common noun, old man, fuses the individual and the universal. Likewise, the narrator and the old man refer to the marlin as the fish: it has no proper noun title. Through their shared commonality the marlin and the old man become grammatical equals. Hemingway carves identities for the two protagonists. The marlin becomes not what Derrida says he (man) calls an animal, but what the narrator calls a fish.16 Conversely, the old man is able to refer to himself as old man, and does so several times. Harnessing the power of speech he becomes what Derrida might term that which calls itself old man, and thus in control of his own identity.

13 14

Cary Wolfe, Animal Rites (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003), p. 124 Derrida, p. 259 15 A very large marine food and game fish. (OED) 16 Derrida, p. 251

8 The edges of this hunter/prey limit are seemingly brought closer together through the way Hemingway constitutes the old man and the marlin. Hemingway describes the old man with trademark succinctness:

The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. [] Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.17

The old mans physical appearance is described in terms of the sea. There is likewise no mention of his clothing in this initial description, and he remains as naked as an animal until nine pages later when the narrator talks about his shirt that has been patched so many times that it was like the sail and the patches were faded to many different shades by the sun.18 The shirt, like his body, like an animal, is at the mercy of the sun and the sea. He is exposed and vulnerable. The marlin is described thus:

He was bright in the sun and his head and back were dark purple and in the sun the stripes on his sides showed wide and a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball bat and tapered like a rapier.19 [] [He had] purple stripes that banded him.20

The two resemble each other physically; the cancerous blotches running down the sides of the old mans face, and cord-scars on his hands echo the marlins own purple bands.

17 18

Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea (New York: Scribner Classic/Collier, 1986), pp. 9-10 Old Man, p. 18 19 Old Man, p. 62 20 Old Man, p. 72

9 The similarities between the old man and the marlin set them up as physical equals at their respective abyssal limits. But the old man needs to do more than look like the marlin to fully engage with it: he has to think like it. The old man connects with the marlin through the twitches and tugs of the fishing cord, and the movement of his skiff in the water. This is the moment at which the marlin and the old man enter into their relationship:

He reached out for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. [] One hundred fathoms down a marlin was eating the sardines that covered the point and the shank of the hook where the hand-forged hook projected from the head of the small tuna.21

The narrative focus moves from the old man in his skiff to a hundred fathoms down to where the marlin finally takes the bait. There is no physical disconnection between the old man and the marlin; the line links them for the next fifty-four pages. The hand-forged hook is the old mans presence in the deep ocean. It is as if his hand is holding out the tuna for the marlin to catch. As a palpable link between the two characters, Hemingway sets up the fishing line as a symbol of their intimate connection. In Derridean terms, it becomes a potential bridge across the abyss. There is textual congruity between the old man and the marlin, but also with the other animals he encounters. The narrator explains how the old man was shivering with the morning cold. But he soon knew he would shiver himself warm.22 This is echoed in the weight of the small tunas shivering pull,23 and how he clubbed a dolphin until it shivered and was still.24 The old mans fishing equipment also shivers: his line stayed at the hardness and water-drop shivering that preceded
21 22

Old Man, p. 41 Old Man, p. 25 23 Old Man, p. 38 24 Old Man, p. 73

10 breaking,25 and he recalls feeling the whole boat shiver.26 Hemingway poses the shiver as a universal and involuntary reaction to external forces. In the way he constructs the old man and the animals, Hemingway creates what Derrida defines as a homogeneous continuity between what calls itself man and what he calls the animal.27 For Derrida, the abyss is utterly unbridgeable. Hemingways bridge is likewise an illusion. The intimate relationship that he forges between the old man and other animals is predicated on their hunter/prey relationship. As equal as they may appear superficially, a little unfolding ultimately reveals an imbalance with the marlin as prey and the old man as predator. Carey Voeller notes that Hemingway often creates compassionate, contemplative hunter[s].
28

No matter how

compassionate and contemplative the old man can be, he remains a hunter. Garry Marvin, in his excellent essay on hunting, notes that:

[In] the case of human-animal relations, the human need and ability to kill animals and the general acceptance of tolerance of the violence of killing is fundamental to the creation of the social order between these sets of creatures; such killing constructs, defines, and shapes this order.29

The killing constructs, defines, and shapes the abyssal limits. It is here that the social order is created, within which it becomes acceptable to kill animals for food. As close together as the fishing line seems to bring the hunter/prey boundaries, it actually acts as an impervious barrier between the proposed ipseities on either side. Instead of the hook becoming the old mans hand touching the marlin underwater, it
Old Man, p. 71 Old Man, p. 12 27 Derrida, p. 251 28 Carey Voeller, He Only Looked Sad the Same Way I Felt: The Textual Confessions of Hemingway's Hunters, The Hemingway Review, 25 (2005), 63-76 (p. 65) 29 Garry Marvin, Wild Killing: Contesting the Animal in Hunting, in Killing Animals (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006), p. 11
26 25

11 emerges as the device through which the old man enacts his violence. Just like the harpoon shaft30 that he pushes into the marlins heart to kill it, so the man-made, metallic hook is thrust into the marlins mouth, forcing it to enter into this hunter/prey relationship. If the old mans limit is unfolded further, it is revealed that he characterizes his bonds with animals as friendships: the flying fish [] were his principle friends on the ocean31; I am with a friend32; and The fish is my friend too.33 A friend is one joined to another in mutual benevolence and intimacy, and this relationship requires reciprocation.34 These particular friendships are in no way reciprocal, or indeed mutually benevolent. The marlin is the old mans adversary. The old man constructs these friendships so he does not feel alone out at sea. Ultimately, if the old man had enough money for a radio, the animals would be replaced by the sound of the baseball news.35 Hemingway says, in an interview with TIME magazine: I thought Santiago was never alone because he had his friend and enemy the sea and the things that lived in the sea some of whom he loved and others that he hated.36 This is a nave, idealized assessment of the situation. The old mans relationship with the marlin complicates the hunter/prey issue. Referring to him as a friend, and saying things like, Fish, [] I love you and respect you very much, seems bizarre when it is followed by, I will kill you dead before this day ends.37 Ann Putnam explains the paradox thus: The heart in Hemingways fiction is always divided against itself. The pastoral impulse to merge with nature is

Old Man, p. 95 Old Man, p. 29 32 Old Man, p. 55 33 Old Man, p. 75 34 OED 35 Old Man, p. 48 36 Author unknown, An American Storyteller, TIME, 13 December 1954 <http://www.time.com/ time/magazine/article/0,9171,935439,00.html> [accessed 27 February 2007], p. 10 37 Old Man, p. 54
31

30

12 always working against the tragic impulse to master it.38 The heart itself can serve as a neat image with which to explain this paradox. The old man plunges the harpoon into the marlins heart to kill it. He reflects on this as he ties it to his skiff: I want [] to touch and to feel him. He is my fortune, he thought. But that is not why I wish to feel him. I think I felt his heart, he thought.39 Key words here are heart, and thought. The heart is both an organ and an emblem. The heart as an emblem for desire, love, and the soul, is what the old man imagines. Whereas the heart as a basic pump is all the marlin feels. Hemingways use of thought has dual meaning. Whilst the old man literally thinks, or engages in mental action, he also constructs a belief or supposition.40 He believes that the marlin will be his fortune, but it will not; just as he believes that he has touched the marlins soul, but has not. If the hunter is successful then the prey eventually becomes a dead animal. A further unfolding of the border reveals that as soon as the marlin is dead the old man becomes a seller, and the marlin becomes a product. As much as the old man praises the marlins majesty and strength, the question looming over the entire operation is one of money, of what [the marlin will] bring in the market if the flesh is good.41 The marlins death transforms it into a piece of meat; in fact it essentially became a piece of meat as soon as it was forced to enter into this relationship. The old man reflects on his catch: Hes over fifteen hundred pounds the way he is, he thought. Maybe much more. If he dresses out two-thirds of that at thirty cents a pound?42 The marlin becomes less a fish, less an adversary, and more like three-thousand dollars tied to the side of the skiff.

38 39

Ann Putnam, in Voeller, p. 66 Old Man, p. 95 40 OED 41 Old Man, p. 49 42 Old Man, p. 97

13

Section Three: The Platonic Fish

The Old Man and the Sea is at its core a parable. The old man is all men, and the marlin is that against which all men struggle. Hemingway mused on the subject of allegory in the TIME magazine interview:

I tried to make a real old man, a real boy, a real sea and a real fish and real sharks. But if I made them good and true enough they would mean many things. The hardest thing is to make something really true and sometimes truer than true.43

Also, on the subject of symbolism, he stated that:

No good book has ever been written that has in it symbols arrived at beforehand and stuck in, [] [that] kind of symbol sticks out like raisins in raisin bread. Raisin bread is all right, but plain bread is better.44

Hemingways metaphor is flawed. All that he writes about, in fact anything at all, is a symbol. This leads back to Derridas animot, and the fundamental textuality that is constructed as soon as something has a name. Hemingway talks about writing a real old man: a contestable statement. Michael Lundblad questions Cary Wolfes view that there is, an opposition between what [Wolfe] calls the ontological and the linguistic or textual animal.45 His riposte goes thus:

43 44

TIME, p. 5 TIME, p. 5 45 Onto- is from the Greek meaning being or that which exists. (OED)

14
But the question that immediately comes up, in my mind at least, is why we must resort to this distinction; why must we maintain that real animals are not socially constructed through discursive and linguistic formulations, if not literally brought to life through a range of human actions, from breeding programs that supply animals to be used as companion, factory-farm and laboratory animals, to rigid preservationist rules that allow animals to populate national parks and zoos?46

Lundblads argument is that no animal can escape social construction. In his refusal to separate the ontological from the textual, Lundblads views correlate with the concept of lanimot, which forces both the ontological animal and the textual animal into one entity. Imagine an animot as a single sheet of paper, with ipseity written on one side, and textuality on the other: they are two aspects of the same thing, and are inextricable from one another. Hemingways real fish has been filtered through his hunters view of the world, and through the ideas of fish that he was inescapably subject to throughout his life. In this section I ascertain if Hemingway creates an animot in the character of the marlin, or not. Hemingways assertion that he wrote from some kind of objective viewpointout of which arose a multiplicity of deeper meaningsis horribly contrived. Joseph Waldmeir notes that the Christian religious symbols running through the story, which are so closely interwoven with the story in fact as to suggest an allegorical intention on Hemingway's part, are so obvious as to require little more than a listing of them.47 This is the epitome of this overt Christian symbolism:

Michael Lundblad, The Animal Question, American Quarterly, 56, (Dec. 2004), 1125-1134 (p. 1130) 47 Joseph Waldmeir, Confiteor Hominem: Ernest Hemingways Religion of Man, in Ernest Hemingways The Old Man and the Sea, ed. Harold Bloom (Philadelphia: Chelsea House, 1999), p. 27

46

15
He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern and sometimes chewing a bit of the meat from the marlin, trying to rest and to be strong, when he saw the first of the two sharks. Ay, he said aloud. There is no translation for this word and perhaps it is just a noise such as a man might make, involuntarily, feeling the nail go through his hands and into the wood.48

The association between the old man and Jesus continues, as he carries his mast up the hill to his house at the close of the novel, and then falls asleep on the newspapers with his arms out straight and the palms of his (blood mushed 49 ) hands up, emulating the crucifixion.50 Allegorical intention should not even be questioned. These are the raisins in the plain bread that Hemingway so despised, yet could seemingly not avoid. A more accurate analogy might be to compare the allegory to the flour in the bread. Just as flour is a necessary ingredient, so allegory is fundamental. And just as the flour is incorporated invisibly into the dough mixture, so the allegory is stitched into the fabric of the text. The parable of The Old Man and the Sea is about mans universal struggle against the Other. Waldmeir says that in Hemingway:

A man must depend upon himself alone in order to assert his manhood, and the assertion of his manhood, in the face of insuperable obstacles, is the complete end and justification of his existence for a Hemingway hero. The Old Man must endure his useless struggle with the sharks.51

Hemingway sets up the episode with the marlin as an idealized struggle. The marlin is so big, and puts up such a fight that its status is elevated to that of the idealized marlin: a kind of Platonic form of a marlin. As stated above, Cary Wolfe explains
48 49

Old Man, p. 107 Old Man, p. 102 50 Old Man, p. 122 51 Waldmeir, p. 30

16 how the discourse of species serves as an off site where problems may be reopened by being recoded as problems of species.52 The species battle here is a cover for what Waldmeir calls a rigid set of rules for living and for the attainment of Manhood.53 It is the struggle that is important, not the fact that the old man catches the marlin. Also, what Waldmeir terms the procedure is of paramount importance and is present in The Old Man and the Sea. Waldmeir says that the procedure is carefully outlined; it is meticulously detailed. If no part of it is overlooked or sloughed off, it must result in a satisfying experience almost in and of itself.54 Hemingway echoes this sentiment in his TIME interview:

The right way to do itstyleis not just an idle concept, he says. It is simply the way to get done what is supposed to be done. The fact that the right way also looks beautiful when its done is just incidental.55

Hunting and fishing are rituals. Whilst the animal that any hunter or fisherman attempts to kill at any one time is an individual, it is constructed by the operation of hunting as a part of that homogenous community of the Animal, and must necessarily remain so in the hunters eyes. Hemingways marlin is no exception. Whilst Hemingway complicates the abyssal borders between man and animal by writing an intimate relationship between the old man and the marlin, the marlin is never allowed to transcend its textuality. The allegorical and universal nature of this parable overshadows the identity that Hemingway attempts to construct. At the close of the novella, any individuality that the marlin may have possessed is destroyed as it is dragged by the sharks back into the sea, and back into its status as Animal. This is how The Old Man and the Sea ends:
52 53

Animal Rites, p. 124 (paraphrased) Waldmeir, p. 30 54 Waldmeir, p. 31 55 TIME, p. 6

17

That afternoon there was a party of tourists at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead barracudas a woman saw a great long white spine with a huge tail at the end that lifted and swung with the tide while the east wind blew a heavy steady sea outside the entrance to the harbour.

Whats that? she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide. Tiburon, the waiter said. Shark. He was meaning to explain what had happened. I didnt know sharks had such handsome, beautifully formed tails. I didnt either, her male companion said. Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.56

The marlins identity is finally eradicated. It is not even seen as a part of the species marlin any more, let alone possessing of an ipseity. The final word of the novella is lions. This is the image that Hemingway ends with: the lions that played like young cats in the dusk on a beach in Africa. The old man says that he loved them as he loved the boy, but that he never dreamed about the boy.57 The lions, appearing only in dreams, are solely textual. The motif of the dream demands an exploration of their metaphorical significance. Carlos Baker explores this in his essay The Boy and the Lions. He says that the lions carry associations of youth, strength, and even

56 57

Old Man, p. 126 Old Man, p. 25

18 immortality.58 And suggests that the planned contiguity of the old man with the double image of the boy and the lions converts the story of Santiago, in one of its meanings, into a parable of youth and age.59 In the way that he ends on these idealized figures of the old mans youth, and of Manolins future, and uses the lions as a site for this discussion, it must be said that Hemingway is not writing lanimot. He complicates the abyssal border between Man and Animal; and he attempts to bridge the abyss through the seemingly intimate relationship between the old man and the marlin. But he fails to see that this relationship is inevitably one-sided. That the relationship is predicated on the hunter/prey dyad proves to be an insuperable barrier. Likewise, the allegorical nature of the novella itself means that the marlin was never to be allowed an ipseity.

Carlos Baker, The Boy and the Lions, in Ernest Hemingways The Old Man and the Sea, ed. Harold Bloom (Philadelphia: Chelsea House, 1999), p. 12 59 Baker, p. 11

58

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PART TWO: The Hunt for a Voice

Section One: The Jaguars Body
Animals are not capable of speaking as humans do. Whilst they can undoubtedly communicate, and certainly vocalize, complex language is restricted to the human realm. Derrida explains how animals call attention to themselves through their ability for volitional movement; whereas Laycock says that man must listen into the silence that animals present him with, in order to hear their non-linguistic voices. Below, I use Derrida and Laycock to examine the way Hemingway crafts his animals. More specifically, I examine the way he attempts to give a voice to a dying lion, and how this affects the reader. I draw on the ideas of J.M. Coetzees character Elizabeth Costello when looking at the ability of poetic invention to allow the reader to connect with the animal. Derridas translator explains that the title of the conference [at which the lecture was given] was Lanimal autobiographique (the autobiographical animal).60 Derrida first assures us that he is not using this phrase in its colloquial sense, in which a political animal would mean an individual who has the taste, talent, or compulsive obsession for politics.61 Instead he takes us back to the I and the animot. The I, he says, has the ability to call attention to itself. When it says I, it is saying this thing that is saying I is unique, and is aware of its own uniqueness.

60 61

Derrida, p. 416 Derrida, p. 258

20 The I separates itself from the world. The very use of I constitutes an autobiography. Derrida notes, that by saying I the signatory of an autobiography would claim to point himself out physically, introduce himself in the present.62 For the animal, the problem arises from the word saying. Animals are restricted to basic auto-motricity: the ability to move that distinguishes the organicinert or cadaverous physico-chemical, from volitional animals.63 They cannot say anything, and thus cannot create their own autobiography. Derrida constructs a hierarchy with auto-motricity underneath auto-biography, and acknowledges that there is an abyss between them. His arguments in this introductory lecture are not fully explicated, but he suggests that an animal can write an autobiography of sorts. He says that the animal is capable of autobiograparaphing itself.64 Meaning that the animal writes its autobiography through its actions. The use of parameaning both alongside of and beyondsuggests a mode of expression that exists in para-llel with writing, yet remains fully distinct from it. It is the capability for auto-motricity that enables this kind of writing. Derrida says that the animal traces its autobiograparaphy, rather than writing it.65 Movement is all that is required to trace a path, and all animals are auto-motoric. Imagine looking out of a window and seeing a bird flying overhead. A swift, swooping and rising, darting after flies, perching on a chimney stack, taking flight again. The swift writes its autobiograparaphy as it flies. The swift, so Derrida says, has the aptitude that it itself is, this aptitude to being itself, and thus the aptitude to
Derrida, p. 260 Derrida, p. 259 64 Derrida, p. 260. This word requires a systematic breakdown. Auto: self, ones own, by oneself, independent-ly. Bio: life, course or way of living. Graph: that which writes, portrays, or records. Para: alongside of, by, past, beyond. To begin: the entire word autobiography is defined as, The writing of one's own history; the story of ones life written by himself. An intuitive transliteration that matches this, and is based on our individual definitions might be: ones own life writing. Therefore, autobiograparaphy might transliterate as: ones own life alongside of/beyond writing. (All definitions are taken from the OED.) 65 Derrida, p. 259
63 62

21 being capable of affecting itself, of its own movement, of affecting itself with traces of a living self.66 By simply moving, an animal becomes an individual, and forges its ipseity. Likewise the marlin of The Old Man and the Sea writes its story as it swims, and drags the skiff, and bites the hook, and dies at the hands of the old mans harpoon. However, the marlin is not just an auto-motoric entity; it possesses the textuality (or metaphorical significance) that overshadows its animality and ipseity. This textuality allows Hemingways literary animals to continue to trace some kind of path after they are dead: after they have lost the ability for auto-motricity. The marlin, as a symbol of mans universal struggle, retains meaning as it is tied to the skiff, and is eaten by sharks, and finally as its carcass lies on the beach swinging with the tide. There is a conflict here between the ways in which animals are able to write or define themselves, and their inevitable, and certainly in a literary context, powerful, textuality. The theory of lanimotas discussed in Chapter One, Section Oneinforms this conflict. In a work of literature, even the descriptions of the basic motoric functions of animals are filtered through the medium of the author. J.M. Coetzee in his fictional lecture-within-a-lecture The Poets and the Animals, has his character Elizabeth Costello praise a poetry that does not try to find an idea in the animal, that is not about the animal, but is instead a record of an engagement with him.67 She cites Ted Hughess poems, The Jaguar and Second Glance at a Jaguar, as a matter not of inhabiting another mind but of inhabiting another body.68 These poems allow a direct connection with the auto-motricity of an animal: with its physicality and
Derrida, p. 260 J.M. Coetzee, The Lives of Animals, in The Tanner Lectures on Human Values, delivered at Princeton University, NJ (October 15 and 16 1997) <http://www.tannerlectures.utah.edu/lectures/ Coetzee99.pdf> [accessed 03 February 2007], p. 148. This lecture takes the form of a fifty-three page story, containing two lectures within it, both given by Coetzees recurrent character, Elizabeth Costello. 68 Coetzee, p. 147
67 66

22 presentness. The poems allow the reader see and feel the animals body, and to imagine what it must be like to walk as a jaguar does. The jaguars are no different from the marlin, or indeed all animals, in that they are subject to the animot dichotomy of ipseity and textuality. Costello says:

When Hughes the poet stands before the jaguar cage, he looks at an individual jaguar and is possessed by that individual jaguar life. It has to be that way. Jaguars in general, the subspecies jaguar, the idea of a jaguar, will fail to move him because we cannot experience abstractions. Nevertheless, the poem that Hughes writes is about the jaguar, about jaguarness embodied in this jaguar. [] So despite the vividness and earthiness of the poetry, there remains something Platonic about it.69

She asserts that Hughes was possessed by the real, individual jaguar he saw at the zoo. Then emphasizes how it is only unfiltered contact with a singular entity that has the power to move people. She sets up a contrast between vividness and earthiness, and the Platonic modes of presentation. Like the animot, Hughess poem acknowledges the corporeality and ipseity of the jaguar, as well as its textuality. Just as the marlins own ipseity is buried under allegory, so the jaguars is buried under his own jaguarness.70 In her discussion of the Platonic jaguar, Costello overlooks Hughes second poem, Second Glance at a Jaguar. Whereas the jaguar of the first poem is referred to as the jaguar, this is a jaguar: an individual. It is a member of Derridas heterogeneous multiplicity of the living.71 In this second poem the reader is in the cage with the jaguar, and moves with him as he paces his well-worn path; the first poem is positioned at a cage where the crowd stands, watching the world roll[ing]

69 70

Coetzee, p. 150 See my discussion of the Platonic marlin in Part One, Section Three. 71 Derrida, p. 253

23 under the long thrust of [the jaguars] heel.72 The jaguar is written as a primitive demigod: harnessing fire and blood; controlling the spin of the earth; transcending the bars of his cage through his force of being. A jaguarin the second poemis a pathetic, material creature. Hughes describes it without embellishment. It has a terrible, stump-legged waddle, and a gorged look,/Gangster, club-tail lumped along behind gracelessly. The majesty of the previous jaguar is gone, and all that is left is this manic prisoner pacing back and forth, Like a cat going along under thrown stones, under cover.73

Section Two: The Lions Mouth

In his short story The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, Hemingwaylike Hughesallows the reader to engage directly with an animal. It contains two passages in which the narrative centre shifts to that of the lion under pursuit by the titular hunter. The lion is not seen through the vision of the hunter, but filtered directly through the narrators voice like any human character would be. Hemingway describes the animals pain in visceral and minute detail. In both Hemingway and Hughes texts, the reader is invited to become the animal. Costello describes this as inhabiting another body.74 Hemingway recounts the lions auto-motoric sensations as the bullet tears through his body: [the bullet] bit his flank and ripped in sudden hot scalding nausea through his stomach. [] Then [the gun] crashed again and he felt the blow as it hit his lower ribs and ripped on through.75 The descriptions are vivid and brutal, and oddly human. Hemingway talks about the lion not being
Ted Hughes, The Jaguar, in Selected Poems 1957-1981 (London: Faber and Faber, 1982), p. 15 Ted Hughes, Second Glance at a Jaguar, in Selected Poems 1957-1981, p. 72 74 Coetzee, p. 147 75 Ernest Hemingway, The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, in The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003), p. 13
73 72

24 afraid, and later full of hatred: two seemingly very human emotions.76 The thirdperson omniscient narration blurs the distinction between the narrator and the lion. To begin the lion is described as majesticfrom what is clearly a point of view outside of its ownand then the reader suddenly sees Macomber in silhouette through the lions own eyes.77 Hemingway uses all five senses to draw the reader in to the lions subjectivity. Just as the lion does, the reader smells no man smell, sees a man figure, hears a cracking crash, feels the slam and the blow of bullets, and tastes blood sudden hot and frothy.78 It is through the physics and chemistry of the body that this connection with the lion arises. In entering the lions realm of subjective experience, Hemingway counterbalances the anthropocentric remainder of the short story, and simultaneously denounces Macombers hunting ability. Hemingway notes how:

Macomber had not thought how the lion felt as he got out of the car. He only knew his hands were shaking and as he walked away from the car it was almost impossible for him to make his legs move. They were stiff in the thighs, but he could feel the muscles fluttering. He raised the rifle, sighted on the junction of the lions head and shoulders and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened though he pulled until he thought his finger would break. Then he knew he had the safety on.79

Macomber loses motor-control as he stalks his prey. This lies in direct contrast to the lion who first trots, and is able even to gallop after he has been shot. In The Old Man and the Sea, Hemingway posed the shiver as a universal and involuntary reaction to external forces. Here Macomber shivershis muscles flutterin fear. He does not belong in Hemingways timeless, mythical world of hunters and prey. The old man

76 77

Macomber, p. 13 & 16 Macomber, p. 13 78 Macomber, p. 13 79 Macomber, pp. 13-14

25 shivered from the cold, the tuna in its death throes, and the fishing line and skiff whilst battling the marlin. Macomber shivers because he is scared. The lion, in contrast to the irregular flutter of Macombers muscles, lies in the high grass slowly dying with his tail steadily twitching up and down. 80 Macombers hands shake, and he fumbles with the safety catch, whilst the lion remains prone, anchored with his claws dug in the soft baked earth.81 H. Peter Steeves says of hunters:

The man who faces a deadly opponent without fear is a fool; the man who presses forward through his fear is a hero. Courage cannot exist without fear, and thus the hunter who admits his fear accentuates his accomplishment.82

To overcome fear is the mark of a good hunter. Steeves posits fear as a site of a potentially intimate encounter between man and animal. He says:

Fear is a mode of state-of-mind. The dog experienced through fear is not frightening; our relationship, our proximity, our way of being-with the dog is as frightened. Fear is spatial. Is it not proof enough we share an intersubjective world with animals that we can fear them? Where the dog sits snarlingHere for him, There for mecan quickly become Here for us both.83

It is the prospect of a potential physical encounter that elicits the fear. The man and the dog are joined in this state of being frightened. Steeves says that fear is proof enough of an intersubjectivity84 between man and animal. He holds both parties to be equal in this encounter.

Macomber, p. 16 Macomber, p. 16 82 H. Peter Steeves, They Say Animals Can Smell Fear, in Animal Others: On Ethics, Ontology, and Animal Life, ed. H. Peter Steeves (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1999), pp. 135136 83 Steeves, p. 137 84 Intersubjective: Existing between conscious minds. (OED)
81

80

26 To hunt well necessitates a certain mingling of subjects. Carey Voeller explains howat a point in the autobiographical Green Hills of Africa where he has been shotHemingway reflects on the pain his prey must feel and acknowledges a communion between human and animal.
85

This

common-union,

or

acknowledgement of intersubjectivity, requires the hunter to think themselves into the body of their prey. To read well also necessitates a mingling of subjects: the reader must enter into a communion with the lion. Just as Macomber should have thought how the lion felt86, so the reader must be receptive to thinking like the animal in the text. Through what Costello terms poetic invention, the animals ipseity is reflected onto the reader. Costello says of Hughes:

By bodying forth the jaguar Hughes shows us that we too can embody animalsby the process called poetic invention that mingles breath and sense in a way that no one has explained and no one ever will. He shows us how to bring the living body into being with ourselves. When we read the jaguar poem, when we recollect it afterwards in tranquillity, we are for a brief while the jaguar. He ripples within us, he takes over our body, he is us.87

The reader borrows the animals autobiograparaphy for a short time. With this intersubjective communion, and the ability to intimately experience an animal through its auto-motricity, it would seem that Hemingway has the ability to provide the animal with a strong basis for subjective presentation. However, this may not lead to providing the animal with a voice. Laycock, in his essay The Animal as Animal: A Plea For Open Conceptuality, interrogates this idea of providing animals with voices on the grounds of its anthropocentrism. This is useful

85 86

Voeller, p. 65 Macomber, p. 13 87 Coetzee, p. 149

27 when determining how possible it actually is for animals to vocalize. One objection is to the following:

[The] idealist proposal that what it would be like for us to be a bat is what it is like for the bat to be a batthe astonishingly audacious and human-centred presumption that human experience is the measure, not only of all things, all objectivity, but of all forms of subjectivity as well.88

Laycock rejects the arrogant assumption that man can easily imagine himself into the mind of any other being, operating under the belief that he is the core of all experience. In Hemingways case there is an attempt to relate to the reader what it is like for the lion to be a lion; and through poetic invention and an intersubjective communion, what it is like for the reader to be the lion. Laycock goes on to describe the forceful manner in which man imposes himself upon the animate Other (animals):

We (man) penetrate the barrier of unknowing; we decide the undecidability of reflection or expression; and we insert ourselves at the heart of the purported [sic] alterior subjectivity, there to speak for the mute, to give voice to the silentto give (or rather impose), that is, our own voice, not to offer the animate Other a vehicle whereby it may express itself.89

Man allows himself to speak for the animal, because the animal is silent. In concordance with Laycock, Derrida states that the most difficult problem lies in the fact that [the animal] has been refused the power to transform [auto-motoric] traces

Steven W. Laycock, The Animal as Animal: A Plea for Open Conceptuality, in Animal Others: On Ethics, Ontology, and Animal Life, ed. H. Peter Steeves (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1999), p. 271. This essay uses Thomas Nagels essay, What is it like to be a bat? as its starting point. 89 Laycock, p. 277

88

28 into verbal language.90 In his attempts to speak for the animal, Laycock says that man drowns out its silence. Or rather, that by speaking for the animal he does not then listen to what it may be saying in what he perceives as silence:

Busy imposing our own views, speaking for the animate Other, we are not genuinely open, receptive. And it is no excuse to complain that in attending the Others voice we hear nothing, that we must speak for the Other because the animate Other cannot speak for itself, that the screen would be blank without our own projection. Let the screen lapse into imageless blankness. [] If silence or incomprehensibility is the expression of the animate Other, we must nonetheless attend. And we must find a voice in this silence, this silence beyond silence, that is not our own.91

Laycock says that this silence is unavoidable. He emphasizes the fact that silence does not denote a lack of meaning or expression. The silence that animals are bound to is a silence only in terms of speech. He talks about finding the voice of the Other in this silence beyond silence, but gives no means by which to achieve this. He concludes thus:

[W]hen the Other becomes aware of itself in us, when we offer ourselves as the site of its own self-expression, when our gift of voice is genuine, no strings attached, when the expression is not that of ventriloquist projection but a genuine submission of the voice to the Others disposition [] this is enlightenment.92

Laycock never prescribes a method of providing animals with a voice, or of how to listen for that voice beyond silence. Nevertheless, it highlights the inevitable artificiality and anthropocentrism of any text that attempts to speak for an animal.

90 91

Derrida, p. 260 Laycock, p. 279 92 Laycock, p. 280

29 Behind the dying lion then, hidden between the lines of text, is Hemingways ventriloquists hand making the lions mouth move: speaking for him, rather than allowing him to speak. In writing an animalwhether giving it a voice directly, or writing about itthe author is bound to enact this ventriloquism. No matter how authentically and objectively the animal is written, the task is an attempt to give language to something that cannot accept it. Using Laycocks terminologythe words insert themselves at the heart of the animals subjectivity. And to return to Derridas abyssthe words seem to leap across the abyss, and bury themselves at the centre of the animal on the other side. But the abyss is fundamentally uncrossable and unbridgeable. What stranglehold the words had on the animal was an illusion; they remain firmly on the side of man.

Section Three: The Elephants Eye

Laycocks idea of the fundamental impossibility of giving animals a voice leads back to Derrida, and autobiograparaphy. In terms of literature then, perhaps the only authentic representation of an animal is one that restricts itself to auto-motoric depictions. However, the presentation of the marlin in The Old Man and the Sea is restricted to auto-motricity, yet predicated on the hunter/prey relationship. The marlin comes close to being an authentic representation of an animal, but its mythical status, and participation in the hunting ritual eradicates its ipseity and forces it to be seen as prey, as a fish, and ultimately as the Animal.93 In his short story, An African Story, Hemingway does not submit to ventriloquism. The animal is not given a voice, but speaks for itself through movement. The relationship between it and the

See Part One, Section One for my discussion of the Animal claiming thus to designate every living thing that is held not to be man. Derrida, p. 253

93

30 protagonist, David, is not that of hunter and prey. David recognizes the animals individuality, and is captivated by its presence. David is waiting for the moon to rise with his dog, when he sees the huge elephant that his father will ultimately pursue and kill:

Then the elephants shadow covered them and he moved past making no noise at all and they smelled him in the light wind that came down from the mountain. He smelled strong but old and sour and when he was past David saw that the left tusk was so long it seemed to reach the ground. [] [He] could see the elephants head and the great ears slowly moving. The right tusk was as thick as his own thigh and it curved down almost to the ground.94

An African Story is told through limited third-person narration. It never strays from the point of view of the protagonist. Thus the elephant is always the elephant as David sees it, never the elephant as what it is feeling or thinking. There is no attempt to cross the unbridgeable abyss between man and animal, but David still attends to the elephant. He does this through silence. The elephant moves past David making no noise. Just as Hemingway drew the reader into the lions subjectivity in The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber through his senses, so connection with David is through hisalthough in this case he smells and sees the elephant, he does not hear it. Sight and sound attend to the silence without drowning it out. The moment before the elephants death is where David experiences his most intimate connection with it:

94

Ernest Hemingway, An African Story, Complete Short Stories, pp. 545-546

31
[His] father raised his rifle and fired and the elephant turned his head with the great tusks moving heavy and slow and looked at them and when his father fired the second barrel the elephant seemed to sway like a felled tree and came smashing down towards them. But he was not dead. He had been anchored and now he was down with his shoulder broken. He did not move but his eye was alive and looked at David. He had very long eyelashes and his eye was the most alive thing David had ever seen.95

Here, sight takes precedence. The adage, the eyes are the windows to the soul, would seem to aptly expresses this encounter. However, it is not the elephants soul that David sees, it is just his eye. To call this a meeting of two souls would assume an intersubjectivity that cannot be proved. David describes the eye as the most alive thing he has ever seen. He is entranced by the elephants immediacy, and corporeality. The eye meets the eye in silence, and the elephant speaks to David.96

African Story, p. 552 The eye is an important point of identification between man and animal. Both Jonathan Burtin his book Animals in Filmand Robert McKayin his essay Identifying With the Animals: Language, Subjectivity, and the Animal Politics of Margaret Atwoods Surfacing, in Figuring Animalsmention the ability of the look of an animal to force the viewer into a relationship with it.
96

95

32

Conclusion
In undertaking this survey of Hemingways animals, I make no attempt to condemn the great man for perceived crimes against animal-kind. The TIME magazine article describes the uninhibited, wine-purpled, 100-proof, side-of-the-mouth bottleswigging days of the swashbuckling young Ernest Hemingway who was the bronze god of the whole literary experience in America.97 This is Hemingways inescapably enduring image. Despite his love of bullfights, hunting, fishing, and his 60-foot-long living room lined with heads of animals at his house in Cuba, he does not actively marginalize animals in his prose.98 The most successful portrayal of an animal is Davids elephant. This animal is a success where the marlin and the lion are failures. It is auto-motoric, and thus is the author of its autobiograparaphy. It has an ipseity: it is an individual in Davids (the focal point of the narrative) non-hunters eyes, whereas for his father it is merely a member of the homogeneous community of the Animal. And is never subject to Hemingways ventriloquists hand. However, this restriction to auto-motricity does not allow for an unbiased presentation of the animal. Every word is filtered through the pen of the author, then through the voice of the narrator. Even its most basic movements are ultimately subject to the prejudices of its creator.

97 98

TIME, p. 2 TIME, p. 3

33 This exploration of the presentation of animals in Hemingways work opens up issues regarding the presentation of animals in literature as a whole. Instinctively, it seems that creating a fictional human character would be far easier than creating an animal: perhaps because the author is always human, and very much not an animal. Richard Ryder first coined the term speciesism while [he] was lying in a bath in Oxford some 35 years ago (1970).99 Bound up in this term is the idea that the distinction between arbitrarily defined species is akin to racism and sexism, in that it is a prejudice based upon morally irrelevant physical differences.100 A white male writer is not black or not a woman just as much as they are not an animal. This reasoning leads to a kind of syllogism: if it is impossible to depict the reality of an animal in literature without submitting to allegory or ventriloquism, and the differences between humans and animals are based on morally irrelevant physical differences; then it is surely impossible to depict the reality of a human in literature without submitting to allegory or ventriloquism. Cary Wolfe says that contemporary cultural studies operates by repressing the question of nonhuman subjectivity, taking it for granted that the subject is always already human.101 My reading of Derrida, Laycock, and Ryder suggests that the supposedly privileged human subjectivity is no more authentic or easily written than a nonhuman subjectivity. Wolfe says in his conclusion: the only way to the there in which the animals reside is to find them here, in us and of us.102 Perhaps the key to hearing animals is to find the silence beyond silence within man.103 We must translate the language of the animals by harnessing our own animality, or perhaps by

Richard Ryder, All beings that feel pain deserve human rights, in The Guardian, 6 August 2005 <http://www.guardian.co.uk/animalrights/story/0,11917,1543799,00.html> [accessed 14/05/07] 100 Ryder 101 Animal Rites, p. 1 102 Animal Rites, p. 207 103 I borrow Laycocks phrase, as quoted in Part Two, Section Two. Laycock, p. 279

99

34 recognizing a humanity in animals. Ultimately this demands that man attends to the individual animal, and does not seek to repress or control it, but to erase all disparity and to allow himself to blend into the heterogeneous multiplicity of the living.

35

Bibliography
Animal Studies Group, Killing Animals (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006) Bloom, Harold, ed., Ernest Hemingways The Old Man and the Sea, (Philadelphia: Chelsea House, 1999) Boese, Gil K., Under Kilimanjaro: The Other Hemingway, The Hemingway Review, 25 (2006), 114-118 Burt, Jonathan, Animals in Film (London: Reaktion Books, 2002) Calarco, Matthew, The Question of the Animal, <http://www.electronicbookreview.com/thread /criticalecologies/animot> [accessed 15/04/07] Calarco, Matthew, and Peter Atterton, eds, Animal Philosophy: Essential Readings in Continental Thought, (New York: Continuum, 2004) Coetzee, J.M., The Lives of Animals, The Tanner Lectures on Human Values, <http://www. tannerlectures.utah.edu/lectures/Coetzee99.pdf> [accessed 03/02/07] Gunn, Alastair S., Environmental Ethics and Trophy Hunting, Ethics & the Environment, 6 (2001), 68-95 Hemingway, Ernest, Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway, The (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003) Green Hills of Africa (London: Arrow Books, 2004) Old Man and the Sea, The (New York: Scribner Classic/Collier, 1986) Sun Also Rises, The (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1954) True at First Light (London: Arrow Books, 2004)

36 Hoffman, Emily, Tradition and the Individual Bullfighter: The Lost Legacy of the Matador in Hemingways The Capital of the World, The Hemingway Review, 24 (2004), 90-105 Hughes, Ted, Selected Poems 1957-1981 (London: Faber and Faber, 1982) Lundblad, Michael, The Animal Question, American Quarterly, 56 (2004), 11251134 Maier, Kevin, Hemingways Hunting: An Ecological Reconsideration, The Hemingway Review, 25 (2006), 119-122 Melling, Philip, Cultural Imperialism, Afro-Cuban Religion, and Santiagos Failure in Hemingways The Old Man and the Sea, The Hemingway Review, 26 (2006), 624 Pollock, Mary Sanders, and Catherine Rainwater, eds, Figuring Animals: Essays on Animal Images in Art, Literature, Philosophy, and Popular Culture, (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005) Ryder, Richard All beings that feel pain deserve human rights, The Guardian, 6 August 2005 <http://www.guardian.co.uk/animalrights/story/0,11917,1543799,00.html> [accessed 14/05/07] Steeves, H. Peter, ed., Animal Others: On Ethics, Ontology, and Animal Life, (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1999) TIME, 13 December 1954 [http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/ 0,9171,935439,00.html] [accessed 27/02/07] Voeller, Carey, He Only Looked Sad the Same Way I Felt: The Textual Confessions of Hemingway's Hunters, The Hemingway Review, 25 (2005), 63-76 Wolch, Jennifer, and Jody Emel, eds, Animal Geographies: Place, Politics, and Identity in the Nature-Culture Borderlands (London: Verso, 1998) Wolfe, Cary, Animal Rites (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003)