Hemingway, Shipman, Dostoevsky

I should be ashamed of loving Ernest Hemingway in the same way that I love Dostoyevsky.

I really do love them because, despite wildly different writing styles, they write the same emotions and stories.  They also sacrifice the same innocents on the same altars, except that Dostoyevsky uses children and Hemingway uses women.  But they are the same innocents.  They tell the same stories.

So I love the Evan Shipman chapter in A Moveable Feast because I realize that I never had to struggle, as Hemingway did, to love Dostoyevsky.  I feel very grateful for that.