Sun Also Rises

Why start with Robert Cohn?

I cannot say I have a satisfying answer to this question myself, but I can imagine some reasons others might put forward. An obvious one is that Jake Barnes is a journalist, and so he is either naturally or professionally inclined to prioritize observation over reflection. Cohn then becomes an object of study for Jake, who finds Cohn fascinatingly hopeless, in which case Jake would want to open with a description of Cohn so as to disorient us into thinking we’re reading a case study of Robert Cohn, deflecting the attention away from Jake. 

A slightly weaker (but more contentious) argument could be made that Cohn functions as the pseudo-protagonist: he’s a likable guy pining after a girl he can’t have (every romantic comedy ever will tell you that this type = protagonist). Opening the novel with a rundown of Cohn filtered through Jake’s bitter cynicism thus conditions us to sympathize with, or at least pity, Cohn. Still, I would say that Jake has his fair share of pining, and even perhaps likability, if you relate to him despite the guard he puts up, so the protagnoist-antagonist argument is a shaky one.

Why the attention to bar tabs?

As a novel that seems intent upon portraying the disillusionment of the lost generation, this book would be nothing if it did not mention alcohol. In some senses, everything the figures of this milieu felt was reflected in their relationship with alcohol. I’ve already mentioned disillusionment, which, on a grand scale, generally refers to their intellectual and philosophical disillusionment with the postwar era. However, it could easily be embodied (symbolically or otherwise) in the physiological disorientation of intoxication. Furthermore, the culture around their alcohol consumption – one of spontaneity and myopic decisions and “just stay for one more, come on” – lies at the heart of their ennui. Quite simply, there’s nothing else to stimulate them, so might as well try drinking.

Because of the centrality of alcohol in this cultural context, it seems only logical that Hemingway would include detailed and frequent bar tab enumerations. It is just something that Jake has to hold onto, something he can track as an accomplishment in the very bare bones sense that he has at least done something.

Does Jake grow or change?

No, and I don’t think he’s supposed to. I guess this could dredge up what I mentioned early about who the protagonist is/isn’t, but either way I think it’s precisely the point that Jake makes no major change that is visible to us or to him. The tension lies in an unspoken, but constant, desire on his part (and on the part of a lot of these characters) to change themselves meaningfully. I should back up and say that I really have no basis on which to justify saying that Jake wishes to change, other than my sense that he seems dissatisfied currently. While it may be a modern assumption that unhappiness effects a desire for change, I still feel it. I think we are meant to leave the novel with an awareness that this generation is stunted (I believe someone – Count Mippipopolous maybe? – mentions arrested development early on) and knows not how or wants not to grow.