At the first visit for this time to Kilometer Zero Shakespeare in Paris, I was searching for a book which would match my own position here this time. I found this perfect piece of writing. This book I never read in translation, so it was a new one for me. I still had in my mind a mastery of "Farewell to Arms", which I re-read recently, so I knew this should be an appropriate piece.
Hemingway is here an observer, and sometimes a participant. As usual, no bull-shitting in his writing, he is frank and direct. Made of short pieces about people and places, or himself and his present condition (Paris, 1920-ies), the book becomes a discourse with the author on walks through the streets of the City. It hits you when you walk the street or place which you just read about in Hemingway's straightforward writing. It is like a stamp in time on the place, much better than any bronze or marble plaquette on the wall. And not that there would be missing such, more material ones, in the City... I think his one is to last longer.