I feel like I might lose some props as a writer/drinker/drink writer after this post, but for a while now, I’ve been thinking this needs to be said.
Who cares about Ernest Hemingway?
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean his books, and I don’t mean his cool. He was brilliant. He could write. He could drink. He was the excuse I use when I want to write and drink.
But why do I care WHERE he wrote and drank? Every time I do research for anything in the Caribbean, I read 17 articles about bars that Hemingway boozed at. Or hey, he boozed in France at this place. Or hey, he boozed in a bar carved into the side of Mt Kilimanjaro (not true that I know of). And he named this drink or made up that drink or blah blah blah drinky drinky Hemingway blah blah. Seriously people, he’s been DEAD 50 years. Find something else to fly on your banner.
Edgar Allen Poe drank too and nobody’s claiming fame to his favorite bar. Or maybe they are. They probably are.
When I first started writing about booze, I thought anything to do with Hemingway and drinking was worth writing about. Now, I see his name and I purposely leave it out. Unless he actually invented the drink, or owned the bar, or died there, I simply do not care.
Just thought I’d let you know.