there are just some books that no matter how long it had been since you finished them youd never ever get them out of your head they just stay in you forever
Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.
He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.
[I]t’s okay to be neurotic about books, and it’s okay to be embarrassed by them sometimes, for whatever irrational or not reason you happen to be. Are you an adult and embarrassed by your fervent and ongoing love of Young Adult fiction? I wish you weren’t, but I wish I weren’t too. I understand. You can be embarrassed.
Just…don’t let anyone else do it to you. If anyone else tries to laugh at you or embarrass you, I invite you to whack them with the book they’re sneering at you over, then gather up all your toys and go find other friends and other yards, because these assholes are no good for you.”