I never liked Hemingway's prose too much, but the moment I found out about this book of memoirs, I knew I'd love it. And I did.
There was a time when two people could live comfortably and well in Europe on five dollars a day, when young aspiring writers lived in Paris and wrote in cafés, when knowing Sylvia Beach didn't mean only borrowing books and reading the finest literature but also financial help for those in need, when writers helped each other getting out of menial jobs and start writing full time, when befriending waiters was such a natural thing to do, and when, if you were penniless and couldn't afford lunch, a two-hour walk in the Luxembourg Gardens would do the trick. And always, always! the nice food and the good wine. And Hem was there, young & handsome, to enjoy all of it.
Dear Hem (I so much love how they called you, since you didn't like your first name anyway),
Thanks for devoting such a generous portion of your book to Scott. It is one of the most touching portraits I've ever had the pleasure of reading. You two guys had something few people have, I guess.