The torture of being a rising American literary star in the tumultuous 1920’s must have been too much for poor young Ernest Hemingway. I can think of no other reason why an author of Hemingway’s enormous talent would have written and published the singularly curious, if entertaining, little book that is The Torrents of Spring.
The Torrents of Spring was published in 1926, the same year in which Hemingway published his classic novel The Sun Also Rises – a wrenching study of powerlessness, both physical and spiritual, among American and British expatriates in post-Great War Spain. And yet The Torrents of Spring could not be more different from The Sun Also Rises. The best way to try to explain The Torrents of Spring may be to tell you that it is an extended satire of a literary movement that you may have heard of, and of a specific novel that may not be at all familiar to you.
Let’s look, first, at the literary movement that Hemingway was interested in when he wrote The Torrents of Spring – the “Chicago School of Literature.” Chicago’s explosive growth as a commercial and industrial center in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was accompanied by a comparable artistic and cultural growth. Chicago was the “City of the Big Shoulders,” a place where life was vivid and fast-moving. It was a city where big dreams were dreamed, where vast fortunes were made - but it was also a place of crime and violence, of profound racial and socioeconomic division. In short, Chicago personified, for many, the nation of which it was “the Second City.”
And the city nurtured the growth of a great many talented writers – Nelson Algren, Sherwood Anderson, Gwendolyn Brooks, Willa Cather, Theodore Dreiser, James T. Farrell, Frank Norris, Carl Sandburg, Upton Sinclair, Richard Wright. Hemingway was himself from suburban Oak Park, and he followed the work of the Chicago School of writers with interest, and often with respect – as when he said of Algren’s tough, hard-bitten work that “No one should read Nelson Algren if they can’t take a punch.”
One of the most important writers of the Chicago School, for Hemingway, was Sherwood Anderson – and it is in Hemingway’s complex relationship with Anderson that The Torrents of Spring begins to take shape. Hemingway admired Anderson’s short-story cycle Winesburg, Ohio (1919) for its muscular, no-nonsense prose style, and for the courageous, uncompromising manner in which Anderson peered behind the nice, wholesome, gee-whiz/aw-shucks surface of Midwestern U.S. life to reveal the ugly realities hiding behind that “all-American” façade. Anderson in turn saw Hemingway’s talent and promise, and tried to help the young author along.
But that mutually reinforcing literary friendship underwent a reversal when Anderson published his novel Dark Laughter (1925). The book, a sexually frank exploration of life in early-20th-century New Orleans, was widely banned, and (perhaps not coincidentally) was a best-seller. But Hemingway disliked the James Joyce-style experimentalism of some of the novel’s passages. Perhaps he thought that Anderson was deliberately separating himself from the Winesburg, Ohio-style realism that made Anderson an important writer.
Whatever the reason, Hemingway deliberately wrote The Torrents of Spring as an extended satire of Dark Laughter. Readers of the time could not have doubted Hemingway’s intent, as the first section of the book is titled “Red and Black Laughter.”
At its beginnings, The Torrents of Spring seems as if it will be the story of two men, Scripps O’Neil and Yogi Johnson, both of whom are working at a pump factory in northern Michigan. So far, it might seem as if we are in familiar Hemingway territory – the land of the Nick Adams stories that reflected details of the young Hemingway’s own youthful experiences in Michigan. Hemingway’s stories that featured the Nick Adams character were first presented to the American reading public via the short-story collection In Our Time (1925). A reader in 1926, knowledgeable of In Our Time and taking up The Torrents of Spring for the first time, might have been forgiven for assuming that Scripps O’Neil and Yogi Johnson were going to meet young Nick Adams sometime in the next couple of pages, especially after reading a passage like this one, from the beginning of Chapter 6:
Scripps O’Neil was looking for employment. It would be good to work with his hands. He walked down the street, away from the beanery and past McCarthy’s barber shop. He did not go into the barber shop. It looked as inviting as ever, but it was employment Scripps wanted. He turned sharply around the corner of the barber shop and onto the main street of Petoskey. It was a handsome, broad street, lined on either side with brick and pressed-stone buildings. Scripps walked along it toward the part of town where the pump-factory stood. At the door of the pump-factory, he was embarrassed. Could this really be the pump-factory? (p. 27)
The theoretical reader mentioned above might well have expected, at this point, to see young Nick Adams walking down that Petoskey street, and providing, in response to a question from Scripps, a reassuring, “Yes, sir, that’s the pump-factory, all right.”
But Nick Adams is nowhere to be found here, and The Torrents of Spring strays a long way from the no-nonsense, down-to-earth realism of the In Our Time stories. For one thing, there are scattered references to Sherwood Anderson throughout the book. Yogi Johnson reflects at one point that “There was a chap in that fellow Anderson’s book that the librarian had given him at the library that night”, and further reflects, as a veteran of the Great War, that “This chap in the book by Anderson. He had been a soldier, too” (p. 53). It seems to have worked, back then, the same way it might work today if a contemporary author were to incorporate sarcastic references to the work of Dan Brown or Nicholas Sparks.
Hemingway is even more overt in his sarcastic or satirical intent elsewhere in The Torrents of Spring. At times, he steps right out of the story and engages in a bit of literary name-dropping, in the course of which he lampoons absurdism and metafiction and whatever else writers of the time might have been doing that he might not approve of. For instance, Chapter 13 ends with Yogi chatting and walking with a group of Native Americans. And then, out of nowhere, there is an “Author’s Note to Reader” that states, in a perfectly offhand and routine manner, that “It was at this point in the story, reader, that Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald came to our home one afternoon, and after remaining for quite a while suddenly sat down in the fireplace and would not (or was it could not, reader?) get up and let the fire burn something else so as to keep the room warm” (p. 76).
Really, Ernest? Really?
But wait, there’s still more! Hemingway apologizes: “If you should think this part of the story is not as good as it might have been, remember, reader, that day in and day out all over the world, things like this are happening” (p. 76). Truly, Mr. Hemingway? People are sitting down in fireplaces and refusing to get up out of them?
And then Hemingway assures the reader “that I have the utmost respect for Mr. Fitzgerald, and let anybody else attack him and I would be the first to spring to his defense! And that includes you too, reader, though I hate to speak out bluntly like this, and take the risk of breaking up a friendship of the sort that ours has gotten to be” (p. 76).
And as if all that weren’t enough, a “P.S. – To the Reader” expresses Hemingway’s hope that the reader will like the chapter in spite of any possible shortcomings, asks the reader to get their friends to buy a copy of the book, and reminds the reader that he only gets 20 cents for each book that is sold! He even offers to read anything the reader has written and help with rewrites! And he closes with the following conversational bit:
If there is anything you do not like in the book, just write to Mr. Scribner’s Sons at the home office. They’ll change it for you. Or, if you would rather, I will change it myself. You know what I think of you, reader. And you’re not angry or upset about what I said about Scott Fitzgerald either, are you? I hope not. Now I am going to write the next chapter. Mr. Fitzgerald is gone and Mr. Dos Passos had gone to England, and I think I can promise you that it will be a bully chapter. At least, it will be just as good as I can write it. We both know how good that can be, if we read the blurbs, eh, reader? (p. 77)
Well, what the hell, Ernest?
But do not be unduly alarmed, friend reader (if you will pardon me for speaking directly to you, as Hemingway does in these passages from The Torrents of Spring): I think I know what’s going on.
We all know that the heyday of literary modernism was a time of wide-open experimentation. Some of those experiments, like what Joyce tried in Ulysses (1922), were wildly successful; others, not so much. Hemingway, I think, felt that some of this experimentation – e.g., what Anderson was trying for in Dark Laughter – was unnecessary and self-important, and was taking away from what good literature should do.
Therefore, Hemingway pokes fun at absurdism, with F. Scott Fitzgerald sitting down in the fireplace. He mocks the tendency of some authors to “break the fourth wall,” stepping out of their customary narratorial role and addressing the reader directly – and his use, as chapter epigraphs, of passages from the work of Henry Fielding (who did the same thing all the time back in the mid-18th century, in books like his 1749 novel Tom Jones) may be there to remind the reader that that sort of literary experimentation is not nearly so “new” as some writers of the time may have wanted their readers to believe.
Hemingway also seems to have lost patience with the literary celebrity culture of the time – a time when the doings of major writers were avidly followed, within a small coterie of what might be called literary fan culture, just as movie stars were followed by readers of the glossy Hollywood magazines. This may explain Hemingway’s indulgence in name-dropping throughout The Torrents of Spring -- Fitzgerald, Joyce, John Dos Passos, and others – and it may also explain one of the major plotlines of the novel, in which Scripps O’Neill, shortly after his arrival in Petoskey, meets and quickly marries an older waitress named Diana, and then almost immediately takes up with another, younger waitress named Mandy! What brings Scripps, a writer, close to Mandy? Why, Mandy’s regaling him with anecdotes of “writer gossip” from the literary magazines, of course!
Hemingway paid a bit of a price for publishing The Torrents of Spring. Gertrude Stein, who had done so much to nurture Hemingway’s literary career, knew that Anderson had been comparably generous to young Hemingway, and felt that Hemingway had responded to Anderson's generosity with an act of literary back-stabbing. There were even rumours that Hemingway had deliberately published a “bad book” in order to get out of one book contract and into a more generous one.
Personally, I don’t think that was the case. Even a writer as serious as Hemingway could have his whimsical moments, and I believe that The Torrents of Spring was written and published in that spirit. While it will never replace classics like A Farewell to Arms (1929) or For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940) in the minds and hearts of Hemingway’s legions of admirers, The Torrents of Spring certainly gives us an example of Ernest Hemingway trying something different.