The Bittersweet Taste of Absinthe in Hemingway’s ‘Hills Like White Elephants’

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Author: Doris Lanier
Date: 1989
From: Studies in Short Fiction(Vol. 26, Issue 3)
Reprint In: Short Story Criticism(Vol. 168)
Document Type: Critical essay
Length: 4,894 words

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[(essay date 1989) In the following essay, Lanier examines the symbolic uses of drinks flavored with aniseed, like absinthe, in “Hills Like White Elephants.” In Lanier’s view, Hemingway expects his reader to have knowledge of the almost mythical tales of self-destruction associated with the drink to understand the destructive nature of the couple’s relationship and the woman’s ironically expressed disappointment in her life, in which everything she has waited for ends up, like absinthe, tasting of licorice.]

In discussing alcoholic drinks flavored with aniseed—one of which is absinthe—one food and travel writer for a current popular magazine describes them as follows:

There is something about the spirits laced with aniseed that suggests overripe fruit on a hot summer’s day, when the fruit is in that highly scented state, about to burst the skin and spoil. Or a crowd of magnolia or lilac in an enclosed garden. These drinks are not, of course, made of fruit or flowers, but simply of neutral spirits distilled from grain and flavored with anise. But the direct, licorice-like taste and the smell—heady, rich, a little brazen—instantly evoke an idyllic drowsiness. Perhaps these sensual spirits also inevitably call up a sort of sweet decadence because of a history rich in carnal, and narcotic, connotation.1
It was exactly this history rich in narcotic and carnal connotation that Hemingway meant to call to the reader’s mind when he had the unmarried, pregnant girl in “Hills Like White Elephants” say to the father of her unborn child, “Everything tastes of licorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.”2 Obviously, the licorice flavor imparted by the anise in the Anis del Toro, which she is drinking when she makes the comment, triggers a response that causes her to see some connection between absinthe and “everything” about their relationship; “like absinthe” reverberates beneath the surface of the story, bringing to mind a multiplicity of images and emotions that serve to reinforce the other major elements of the narrative.

On the surface, “Hills Like White Elephants” appears to be no more than a thumbnail sketch, a story with a plot so slight that it can be summarized in a few sentences. An unmarried pregnant girl and the father of the unborn child are discussing their situation over drinks in a cafe in a train terminal as they wait for a train to Madrid, Spain. He wants her to have an abortion; she doesn’t want one. As the conversation becomes more tense, she walks to the end of the station and looks at the Ebro River and the hills beyond. She returns to the table, and after they converse some more, he carries their bags to the other side of the terminal and returns to the table. When their conversation ends, the girl seems resigned to having the abortion, and the two prepare to board the train.

Only deceptively simple, the story is somewhat like a painting: the entire scene is visible at once; every stroke of the pen, every detail, every word counts. The couple’s conversation takes place in public. Forced to vent their emotions in an unobtrusive way, the two resort to irony, sarcasm, and suggestive, indirect language to express their resentment, anger, frustration, and hurt. Under these difficult circumstances, Hemingway, using the objective point of view, manages to communicate the feelings and emotions of the two without intruding as an author and forces the reader, like the travelers in the terminal, to become a silent participant in the life-and-death drama in which two people decide to terminate the life of the unborn child, thereby rejecting the opportunity for a new, vital, and meaningful relationship.

Hemingway once optimistically predicted that those of his stories which had been at first rejected by publishers would someday be understood, though gradually, as a painting is understood.3 As far as “Hills Like White Elephants” is concerned, critical commentary over the past two decades proves him right. Several critics have discussed the importance of the setting in interpreting the story. From where the girl sits at the table, the hills across the Ebro Valley appear “white in the sun and the country was brown and dry” (273), but from the end of the station, she can see “fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro” and “the river through the trees” (276). Mary Dell Fletcher, Laurence Perrine, and Lionel Trilling generally agree that the brown, dry, and infertile land represents a rootless, empty, and sterile life—like the one the couple is presently living—while the fertile land along the Ebro River represents the meaningful and fruitful life they could have if they would not go through with the abortion. The railroad junction—a place where one can change directions—symbolically represents a point in time when the couple can change the direction of their lives.4 Related to the landscape symbolism, the white elephant symbolism in the title is also important. According to Lewis Weeks, Kenneth Johnston, and Perrine, the unborn child, though of value to the girl, is a white elephant to the man, who wants to get rid of it. The barren hills remind Weeks of a pregnant woman’s swollen belly and breasts, and Johnston sees the “hills like white elephants” as a constant reminder of the abortion and the couple’s opposing views: the girl’s reverence for life and the man’s lack of reverence for it.5

Gary Elliot, Dennis Organ, and J. F. Kobler have dealt with the curtain symbolism in the story. Elliot believes that the girl is Catholic, that the curtain made of bamboo beads functions as a rosary for her, and that she adamantly opposes the abortion because of her religious convictions. Organ adds to Elliot’s interpretation the idea that infants play with beads, and, thus, to the woman they “symbolize the unborn child.” He believes the literal separation of the two by the curtain toward the end of the story represents “their emotional separation as well.” Making another point, Kobler believes the attitudes of the couple towards the curtain represent their attitudes towards the abortion. “Neither the curtain nor the abortion is important to [the man],” says Kobler. To him, it is “just as reasonable and normal” for an unmarried woman to get an abortion as it is for a curtain to hang in a doorway. To the opposite, the girl’s “direct, visual, and tactile responses to the curtain connote her much deeper response to the abortion.”6

Other comments on the story by Norman Friedman, Perrine, and Trilling are also worthy of mention.7 According to Friedman, the labels infer that the two have a “shallow,” “rootless,” and “transient” relationship, while Perrine, similarly sees their suitcases with labels on them as representing a “kind of rootless, pleasure-seeking existence without responsibilities. …” Perrine also agrees with Trilling that tone of voice and word choice are important in the story. Perrine discusses irony and sarcasm in the story, while Trilling discusses Hemingway’s choice of the word “reasonably” in the sentence “They were all waiting reasonably for the train.” He says the man perceives himself as a “reasonable” man who is having trouble “reasoning with an unreasonable woman.”

Even though the discussions of “Hills Like White Elephants” make it clear that everything in the story contributes in some way to its meaning, critics have surprisingly paid little attention to the connotative and symbolic value of absinthe in the story, even though “like absinthe” is one of its major similies. Perhaps this oversight has occurred because most modern readers do not know the narcotic and carnal history of the drink—a history of which Hemingway was most certainly aware, since absinthe drinking was a controversial subject frequently in the news both before and during his lifetime.

The reputation of the drink as a narcotic began around 1790, when a French refugee named Dr. Ordinaire settled at Corvet, Switzerland, where he became known for his homemade medicines, some of which he concocted from plants in the area. One of these, an extract of wormwood, was so effective when administered to patients that it was extensively made and sold to others. In 1797, some time after Ordinaire’s death, Henry-Louis Pernod in France first produced the drink called absinthe, using the recipe originated by Ordinaire. A bitter liquor, absinthe is chiefly made from the leaves and top part of the plant wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) and certain aromatics such as angelica, anise, balm mint, and hyssop. Pale green, almost emerald in color, the drink has a strong, licorice-like flavor, which is contributed by the anise and which disguises the bitter taste of the wormwood.8 The use of anise for medicinal purposes and for flavoring drinks and food goes back to the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans; by the Middle Ages, it was being used all over Europe and was being produced in most of the warmer climates of the world.9 The most dangerous ingredient in absinthe is the wormwood, which is capable of producing a potent, toxic psychoactive alkaloid “that is extremely harmful to the habitual user.”10

Following its first production, there was a steady increase in absinthe consumption, and in less than a century, there was beginning to be a great concern about Europeans’ overindulgence in the drink, particularly in France and Switzerland, where absinthe was first produced in quantity.11 The greatest absinthe drinkers of all, the French consumed it in epidemic proportions in the latter part of the nineteenth century—a situation viewed with alarm by the medical community. Said one observer of the Paris scene in the 1890s,

Whether you be on the boulevard or in Bellville, the green drink at the “green hour” … is a special feature of the landscape. … Parisians sit on the sidewalk, sip their drinks, and look at the passers by … [and] by slow degrees they feel their poor, tired backbones strengthen and their brains grow clearer, and they feel a touch of happiness. … absinthe captivates the palate by its peculiar and really exquisite flavor. … During the 5 O’clock absinthe hour [even] women drink absinthe … [and] many take their absinthe “pure.”12
In spite of the controversy surrounding the drink, it was not prohibited in France until 1915, when, in the face of World War I, government officials banned its use in both the army and the navy for fear that its overconsumption was undermining the military strength of the country. The ban was later extended to the entire country.13

Though Europeans were the major consumers of the drink after its first production, it was exported to the United States early on, and was especially popular in “the little Paris of North America,” New Orleans.14 But fearing the drink’s deleterious effects, U.S. health officials followed the lead of Holland, Belgium, Brazil, and other countries, and imposed a ban on the drink in July 1912.15 Still, the appeal of the drink was so great that it was difficult to control its sale, and as late as November 1926—only a few months before Hemingway published “Hills Like White Elephants”—a violation of the ban was widely reported in U.S. newspapers: the Old Absinthe House in New Orleans, a historical landmark frequented by artists and other professionals, was closed and padlocked because its proprietors continued to sell the drink.16 Other countries, too, had difficulty controlling the sale of the drink. By the 1920s, absinthe was again being sold in a disguised form in Paris cafés, resulting in a new ban on “all liquor similar to absinthe.” And in the 1930s, cocktails to which absinthe had been added were being sold in England, causing the medical profession to issue “grave” warnings about the consequences.17 Today, absinthe is still not illegal in some countries, notably Spain, where “its evils are still debated—over full glasses,” and various imitations of absinthe which contain anise are readily available in many other countries.18

The leaders of the movement to ban absinthe were mainly concerned about the addictive nature of the drink, the difficulty of curing a person of absintheism, and the mental and physical deterioration that it caused in the habitual user. Calling the drink “seductive and treacherous,” a reporter for the New York Times in October 1879 described its effects:

At first there is very little reaction from it; it quickens the mental faculties, lends a glow to the health and spirits, and seems to raise man to a higher power. Its encroachments are scarcely perceptible. … [But] all of a sudden he breaks down; his nervous system is destroyed; his brain is inoperative; his will is paralyzed; he is a mere wretch; there is no hope for his recovery. … the absinthe drinker … very rarely does or can throw off the fatal fascination.19
Another writer of the period claimed that the increase in insanity in France was largely due to absinthe. “Its immoderate use,” he said, “speedily acts on the entire nervous system in general and the brain in particular,” causing a “derangement” of the “mental powers” and, finally, “raving madness.”20 So concerned was Victorian novelist Marie Corelli about the growing number of absintheurs in France in the 1890s that she wrote a novel entitled Wormwood on the subject. Her purpose was to show “the destruction of a good and creative man by his addiction to absinthe”; the victim of this addiction frequently refers to the drink as “the fairy with the green eyes.”21

This view of absinthe as a seductive and treacherous crippler of man continued for the next several decades. Writers frequently warned the public that overindulgence in absinthe would cause insomnia, nervousness, nightmares, hallucinations, delirium, and profound mental problems and that even the descendants of the absinthe drinker would be affected. Many would have agreed with the writer in the May 1915 issue of The Literary Digest that “Absintheism makes mad those who suffer from it and weak-minded the next generation.”22 Many horrid crimes were also attributed to overindulgence in absinthe, and, in fact, the most successful effort to ban absinthe occurred after a Swiss farmer, reputedly under the influence of absinthe, brutally murdered his wife and child.23 That Hemingway was aware of the drink’s potential to destroy is evident in his other writings. In For Whom the Bell Tolls, for example, Robert Jordon on one occasion tells a gypsy that “real” absinthe has wormwood in it and is “supposed to rot your brain out.” In To Have and Have Not, after one of the characters drinks three Spanish absinthes, he is warned, “not to follow the drinks with any other drink” because of their extreme potency. And in The Sun Also Rises, it is observed that absinthe will “make [one] sick” if he drinks it too fast.24

Several artists of the period, some with whom Hemingway was personally acquainted, were influenced by the drink, either directly or indirectly. As recently as 1981, Michael Albert-Puleo, of Case Western University School of Medicine in Cleveland, hypothesized that absinthe had “pharmacologic influences” on Vincent Van Gogh’s “artistic vision.” According to Albert-Puleo, the “exaltation,” “excitation,” and “hallucinations” produced by the absinthe, in combination with Van Gogh’s mental illness, certainly “played a part in the strange and wonderful visions the artist captured on canvas.”25 The French painter and lithographer Toulouse-Lautrec, who spent two years in a sanatorium to seek a cure for “nervous diseases” and “alcoholism,” was very likely addicted to absinthe; he was known to carry a supply in his custom-made cane for instant rejuvenation.26 The French artist Edgar Degas, in his 1876 painting “The Glass of Absinthe,” shows a “dazed” couple under the magical, narcotic influence of the drink. Similarly, in one of his Blue Period works, “The Absinthe Drinkers,” Picasso reveals the depravity, the hopelessness and the tragedy of the absintheur.27 Indeed, Hemingway may have had Picasso’s painting in mind when he wrote “Hills Like White Elephants”, especially in the scene with the two drinking at the table. Hemingway was personally acquainted with Picasso through his friend Gertrude Stein.28

Absinthe was alluring not only because of its narcotic effects but also because of its reputation as an aphrodisiac. The erotic history of anise—a key ingredient in absinthe drinks—dates back to Pliny the Elder in the first century. In his Natural History, when Pliny discusses the medicinal powers of various spices and herbs, he includes anise as an aphrodisiac29 and even goes so far as to recommend its use in wedding cakes. Various other accounts exist of the efficacy of anise as a sexual stimulant. Edward IV of England was one believer in its power and was known to have ordered his sheets scented with aniseed to get the full effect of its power;30 according to 1840 Royal Wardrobe Accounts, his linen closet was perfumed with “lytil bagges of fustian stuffed with ireos and anneys.”31 Marie Brizard’s anisette, a popular eighteenth century liquor, contained anise; though the drink was first used only for medicinal purposes, according to one writer, “when the fashionable Duc de Richelieu, noted for his sexual prowess, took to knocking it back, Marie’s business boomed.” Some people still contend that “a little dried aniseed in the linen closet makes for sweet dreams.”32

As one reviews the critical commentary on “Hills Like White Elephants” and reads the history of absinthe and absinthe drinking, two things become quite clear. First, Hemingway counted on the details of the story to communicate its meaning; thus, his details are highly selective, each serving some purpose, each a piece of the puzzle which, when complete, reveals a tightly structured, highly unified story that is much larger than the one in print. Second, it is not just by chance that Hemingway has the girl to refer to absinthe in one of the major similes of the story. The absinthe becomes a stimulant to the reader’s imagination, as it did to the girl’s, resulting in a series of images and emotions that build on and reinforce what is communicated by the other major elements of the story. Like the landscape, the title, the beads, and the labels on the luggage, the absinthe reveals a great deal about the situation that is never put into words by the couple or the author.

The addictive quality of the drink most certainly is meant to emphasize the addictive nature of the couple’s lifestyle. Like the person addicted to absinthe, the two are addicted to a way of life that will lead to destruction—a situation that the girl is just becoming aware of. It is an empty, meaningless existence that revolves around traveling, sex, drinking, looking at things, and having pointless conversations about these things. “That’s all we do, isn’t it,” said the girl, “look at things and try new drinks?” (274). The lack of focus and the indirection of their lives are emphasized by the reputation of the rather indefinite “everything” and “things.” When the girl says, “Everything tastes. … like absinthe,” she is making a comment about the quality of their lives and expressing her own dissatisfaction with life. When she later tells the man, “We could have everything,” she is referring to those things that would bring a quality life: love, home, family. The girl is aware that “something” is missing in their lives, but she is not quite able to put that “something” into words. Neither is she able to say what “thing” will be missing if she goes through with the abortion, which is, according to the man, “the best thing to do” because the pregnancy is the “thing” that has made them unhappy (275). But the girl has a feeling. “I just know things,” she says (276). Her intuitive perception of what will happen to their relationship after the abortion contrasts with his inability or unwillingness to see that their lives will be changed by the event. Though the girl would like to break the addiction and change the direction of their lives, she lacks the strength to do so without his help, and he has no desire to change.

The destructive potential of absinthe also suggests the destructive nature of the couple’s relationship. Innocent-looking, seductive, and intoxicating, absinthe promises joy, excitement, heady delight, its tantalizing color and taste concealing the destructive power that is lurking in its green opulence. Subtly and slowly, however, its treacherous poison overpowers its victims, bringing with it impotence, sterility, dullness of emotions, and, finally, abject despair; likewise, the couple’s illicit affair and irresponsible lifestyle, which deceptively promise joy and happiness, are fraught with concealed danger from the very beginning. It becomes a destroyer of the child, who is aborted; a destroyer of the girl, who endures the physical and emotional pain of aborting the child she wants; and a destroyer of the couple’s relationship. Though the man insists that after the abortion they will be “Just like [they] were before” (275), the girl is very aware that the abortion will probably mark the end of what had once promised to be a happy relationship. As a destroyer of life, the drink aligns itself, symbolically, with the brown, dry side of the landscape and serves to emphasize the barrenness, infertility, and unproductiveness of the couple’s lives. The green color of the drink, however, reflects the greenness of the fertile landscape, a reminder that they could “have everything” instead of nothing.

Because of its reputation as an hallucinatory agent, the absinthe adds another dimension to the white elephant symbolism in the title. The hallucinatory quality of the drink relates directly to the girl’s distorted view of the hills, reflecting her emotional and mental state. For the moment, at least, she is having difficulty distinguishing between illusion and reality. Her failure, or reluctance, to see the real landscape—the brown, dry hills—suggests her inability to face the reality of their deteriorating relationship. Deep down she is holding on to the belief that there is still a chance that the man will commit himself to a permanent relationship, that her pregnancy means something to him, and that she can give birth to the child that is the product of their love; in reality, however, even though he insists that he loves her and doesn’t want her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, he doesn’t want the child and is coldly indifferent to her feelings. To him, their relationship is no more than an illicit affair, a temporary arrangement; unlike the girl, he wants to avoid the possibility of a permanent relationship that would result if she had his child. By connotatively suggesting eroticism and sexual stimulation, the absinthe, like the labels on the suitcases and the girl’s pregnancy, emphasizes that their relationship is mainly a sexual one.

Although the religious symbolism in “Hills Like White Elephants” is not as obvious at first glance as the landscape and white elephant symbolism, there is some validity to the argument that the beaded curtain, which resembles a rosary, symbolizes the girl’s religion, Catholicism—the predominant religion of Spain, the setting of the story. To some extent, the absinthe reinforces the religious symbolism of the story, chiefly because the main ingredient in the drink is wormwood. In the frequent references to wormwood in the Bible, it is symbolical of bitter sorrow, calamity, or cruel punishment. In Jeremiah (9:15 and 23:15), for example, a wrathful God promises to punish the people of Israel with wormwood and gall, and in Revelation (8:11) a star called “Wormwood” falls to the earth, causing a third of the water to become bitter and kill many people.33 Many times in the Bible, wormwood is connected to gall to express something offensive and nauseous or the extremity of bitter experience. Wormwood also has been traditionally associated with Christ’s crucifixion in that some believe that Christ was given wormwood to drink when he was crucified.

One could argue, with some validity perhaps, that the girl and the man in “Hills Like White Elephants” are alcoholics—more specifically, addicted to absinthe—and that Hemingway meant to paint a word-picture of the drinkers that could compare to Picasso’s “The Absinthe Drinker.” This argument would account, in part, for the man’s feeling that the girl was being unreasonable in not wanting to get an abortion. Certainly, their drinking is significant. “What shall we drink” are the first words of their conversation; they drink during the conversation, and he drinks an Anis after the conversation. One must assume that this heavy drinking is the usual thing for the couple. There is no question that the girl has drunk absinthe—and, we assume, the man, too—since she immediately relates the licorice taste of the Anis del Toro to absinthe. The man, however, is a more sophisticated drinker and has to explain to her that Anis del Toro is a drink. As a sophisticated and knowledgeable drinker, he also knows the deadly and mutilating effects that absinthe and other alcoholic drinks can have on a fetus; thus, the man thinks he is being “reasonable” in wanting the woman to abort what could possibly be a mentally or physically handicapped child.

Though the reader has to imagine what is taking place in the girl’s mind when she says, “Everything tastes. … like absinthe,” the man immediately understands what she is thinking and what she is indirectly saying to him, for he responds rather crossly with, “Oh, cut it out” (274). He knows that the bittersweet taste reminds her of the whole of life as they are living it, a potentially destructive life that is meaningless, empty, and lacking in morality—a life in which, like absinthe, bitterness has become a substitute for the sweet.

Notes

1. Regina Nadelson, “The Sweet Taste of Decadence,” Metropolitan Home, Nov. 1982, p. 62.

2. “Hills Like White Elephants,” in The Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway (New York: Scribner’s, 1953), p. 274. Subsequent references appear within the text.

3. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (New York: Scribner’s, 1964), p. 75.

4. See Mary Dell Fletcher, “Hemingway’s ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” The Explicator, 38, No. 4 (1980), 16-18; Laurence Perrine, ed., Literature: Structure, Sound, and Sense, 4th ed. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1983), pp. 198-201; and Lionel Trilling, ed., The Experience of Literature (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1967), pp. 729-32.

5. See Lewis E. Weeks, Jr., “Hemingway’s Hills: Symbolism in ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” Studies in Short Fiction, 17 (Winter 1980), 75-77; Kenneth Johnston, “‘Hills Like White Elephants’: Lean, Vintage Hemingway,” Studies in American Fiction, 10 (Oct. 1982), 233-38; and Perrine, p. 198.

6. See Gary D. Elliot, “Hemingway’s ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” The Explicator, 35 (Summer 1977), 22-23; Dennis Organ, “Hemingway’s ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” The Explicator, 37 (Summer 1979), 11; and J. F. Kobler, “Hemingway’s ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” The Explicator, 38 (Summer 1980), 6-7.

7. See Norman Friedman, “What Makes A Short Story Short?” Modern Fiction Studies, 4 (Summer 1958), 103-117; Perrine, pp. 198-99; and Trilling, pp. 730-32.

8. James Mew and John Ashton, Drinks of the World (London: Leadenhall Press, 1982), pp. 162-63; “Absinthe,” Encyclopedia International (New York: Grolier, 1963), I, 20.

9. Tom Stobart, Herbs, Spices, and Flavorings (New York: Overlook Press, 1892), p. 46.

10. “Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder,” Popular Science, 219 (Oct. 1981), 26.

11. “France Banishing Absinthe,” Literary Digest, 50 (May 1915), 1084-85; H. E. Turner, “The Clinic: The Shaky Case Against Absinthe,” The American Mercury, 35 (May 1935), 103-05; and “Absinthe,” New International Encyclopedia (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1911), I, 44.

12. Sterling Heiling, “Absinthe Drinking,” Atlanta Constitution, Aug. 19, 1894, p. 6.

13. Turner, p. 103; “France Banishing Absinthe,” p. 1084.

14. Stanley Clisby Arthur, Famous New Orleans Drinks and How to Mix ’Em (Baltimore: Pelican, 1977), p. 34.

15. Monthly Catalog of U.S. Government Publications, July 1912, p. 6. Food Inspections Decision 147.

16. “Absinthe House Padlocked: Once Haunt of Jean LaFitte,” New York Times, Nov. 6, 1926, p. 1.

17. “Paris Cafés Sell Absinthe,” New York Times, April 9, 1920, p. 16; see also “Imitation Absinthe to Go,” New York Times, Oct. 27, 1922, p. 9; “Urges Ban on Absinthe,” New York Times, April 25, 1930, p. 6.

18. Nadelson, p. 65.

19. New York Times, Oct. 14, 1879, p. 4.

20. New York Times, Dec. 12, 1880, p. 6.

21. Marie Corelli, Wormwood (London: Methuen, 1897), p. 211 and “Introductory Note”; Arthur, Famous New Orleans Drinks, p. 37.

22. “France Banishing Absinthe,” p. 1080; “Urges Ban on Absinthe,” p. 6.

23. Nadelson, p. 62; “France Banishing Absinthe,” p. 1084.

24. Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls (New York: Scribner’s, 1968), p. 55; To Have and Have Not (New York: Scribner’s, 1937), p. 194; and The Sun Also Rises (New York: Scribner’s, 1954), p. 223.

25. “Science Watch: Van Gogh’s Hallucinations,” New York Times, July 7, 1981, col. 2.

26. Fritz Novotny, Toulouse-Lautrec (New York: Crown, 1983), pp. 6-7; Nadelson, p. 62.

27. Nadelson, p. 62; Turner, p. 104.

28. Emily Stipes Watts, Ernest Hemingway and the Arts (Chicago: Univ. of Illinois Press, 1971), pp. 4-6.

29. Pliny, Natural History, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Howard Univ. Press, 1969), Bk. XX, Vol. VI, p. 113.

30. Nadelson, p. 67.

31. Frederic Rosengarten, Jr., The Book of Spices (Wynnewood, PA: Livingston, 1969), p. 109.

32. Nadelson, p. 67.

33. Paul Achtemeier, Harper’s Bible Dictionary (New York: Harper and Row, 1985), pp. 1142-43.

Source Citation

Source Citation   

Gale Document Number: GALE|H1420110527