"A writer's job is to tell the truth," said Hemingway in 1942. No other writer of our time had so fiercely stated, or so consistently ( 一 贯 地 ) illustrated the writer's duty to speak truly. His standard of truth-telling remained, moreover, so high and so strict that he was ordinarily unwilling to admit secondary evidence, whether literary evidence or evidence picked up from other sources than his own experience. "I only know what I have seen", was a statement which came often to his lips and pen. What he had personally done, or what he knew unforgettably by having gone through one version of it, was what he was interested in telling about.
The primary intention of his writing, from first to last, was to seize and project for the reader what he often called "the way it was". This is a characteristically simple phrase for a concept of extraordinary complexity, and Hemingway's concept of its meaning subtly (微妙地) changed several times in the course of his career - always in the direction of greater complexity. At the core of the concept, however, one can invariably recognize the operation of three instruments of beauty appreciation: the sense of place, the sense of fact, and the sense of scene. The first of these, obviously a strong passion with Hemingway, is the sense of place. "Unless you have geography, background," he once told George Antheil, "you have nothing." You have, that is to say, a dramatic vacuum. Few writers have been more place-conscious. Few have so carefully charted out the geographical ground work of their novels while managing to keep background so unnoticeable. Few, accordingly, have been able to record more economically and graphically the way it is when you watch the bulls running through the streets of Pamplona, Spain towards the bull-ring.
"When I woke it was the sound of the rocket exploding that announced the release of the bulls. Down below the narrow street was empty. All the balconies were crowded with people. Suddenly a crowd came down the street.
They were all running, packed close together. They passed along and up the street toward the bull-ring and behind them came more men running faster, and then some stragglers ( 落后者) who were really running. Behind them was a little bare space, and then the bulls tossing their heads up and down. It all went out of sight around the corner. One man fell, rolled to the gutter (排水沟), and lay quiet. But the bulls went right on and did not notice him. They were all running together."
