Across the River and into the Trees

Across the River and into the Trees was penned by Ernest Hemingway.  It was published by Charles Scribner’s Sons ten years after For Whom the Bell Tolls in 1950.  The novel was written in France, Cuba and Italy.  The reviews were negative.  A first for Hemingway.  The sales were excellent.  A common occurrence.  It topped The New York Times bestseller’s list for seven straight weeks.  It was the author’s only book to do so.

The story starts with Colonel Richard Cantwell.  He is aging and suffers from a heart condition.  The colonel is duck hunting in Italy.  He is livid with his boatman and shoots two ducks.  He is pleased as he bags them.  Shooting ducks relieves stress or maybe it does not.  The outdoors are nice.  There is soft wind that makes noise.  It could be loud.  Nature is unpredictable.  A flashback of the colonel begins.

Richard was a one-star general during World War I.  He was in Venice.  He remembers there is a countess.  Her name was Renata.  She was young and Venetian.  She still is Venetian.  There are several details about Italian culture and food. Across the River and into the Trees is over three hundred pages.  The general is demoted to colonel.  Richard is sad.  The loss of rank lingers. 

Across the River and Into the Trees Continues

Time passes.  Cantwell rides to his rendezvous with Renata.  Jackson is his chauffeur and a non-commissioned officer.  He talks about the world and Venice.  He lists reasons that Venice should be appreciated.  There are many.  The drive is longer.  The day is shorter.  Time is liner here.  Cantwell talks about his life before and after the Italian army.  The grime of World War I still remains.  The cataclysm and the fallout and the catalyst for the second global showdown combusts in the trenches.  The drive continues.

The colonel is bored when he steps into Venice.  The two meet the countess.  She is nineteen.  It is unclear why she is attracted to the middle-aged Cantwell.  Maybe it is her wealth and upbringing and disposition.  Maybe malaise or marmalade or Malaysia.  Richard calls her daughter.  She does not mind.  He is older than her father.  The wealthy are unconcerned with sexual decorum or is it boredom.

The lovers make love and eat and drink around Venice for three days.  Cantwell quotes Stonewall Jackson.  “Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.”  The title of the story is derived from it.  Across the River and Into the Trees.  He moves to the backseat of the car and perishes from a heart attack.  The former general is dead.  Jackson reads a note that says his belongings should be delivered to their rightful owner Renata.

It Follows

Italian life continues.  The reader closes the book and feels the spine and then their own.  Spinal fluid shoots up and back down.  It moves up again and falls.  Water does the same in a radiator.  It generates heat and makes a noise.  The novel made no noise.  It is quiet.  The blast of a shotgun is loud after the trigger is pulled and the barrel is pointed at a duck.  The shell ejects when reloaded.  Feathers eject if buckshot hits the fowl.  Boots crunch against the reeds as the hunter moves towards the carcass.

The hunter gets to the bird and decides to leave.  The bird takes flight.  The hunter crumples into the ground.  The gun does not make a sound.  The pile is massive and gets smaller with the beat of the wings.  The thump of the heart on the ground is in the chest of the bird.  Everything is cold and silent.  Underground and above it is loud.  Life goes on.

The form diminishes as the wings flap.  Italy too.  It is impossible to tell if the city will succumb to water.  The bird and the man think about Venice a final time.  Technology is always predicted to advance quicker than it does.  That is fine they contemplate.  Time is circular now or not at all.  The breeze is warm.  The book ends.  Maybe it ended long ago before it was written.  What was.  Across the River and into the Trees ends.  Thomas Jonathan “Stonewall” Jackson died in 1863 from pneumonia after having his arm amputated at the conclusion of the battles of Chancellorsville.  He was thirty-nine years old and looked much older in photographs.

“He saw the girl watching him and he smiled at her. It was an old smile that he had been using for fifty years, ever since he first smiled…”

– Ernest Hemingway, Across the River and into the Trees