On this day, July 2, 1961, in Ketchum, Idaho, USA, the sound of a single gunshot echoed in the Hemingway home: Ernest Hemingway, the Nobel and Pulitzer prize winner had accidentally shot himself while cleaning his 12-gauge shotgun.
The gun was found next to a robe-clad Hemingway, and Mary had to be sedated from her distress. It was a great loss to the Hemingway family, and a great loss to the literary world. It seems as though anything I would write in this anniversary post would seem somewhat clichéd and overdone. So instead, I’ve compiled some photos taken throughout Hemingway’s life to celebrate the unique individual that he was.
Whenever I read his work, I am always imbued with a greater sense of meaning which facilitates coping with existential threat. Hemingway’s work is like an existential bandaid, if you will…I guess that just means his books make me happy.
Photo Credit: JFK Library Hemingway Collection