This is a book of love, loathing and bitterness. Love of Paris is the matter of the parts in which Hemingway relates how he settled into a routine as a writer in the tranquil years before what he calls "the rich" arrived. Written with that controlled lyricism of which he was master, these pages are marvelously evocative.
Lewis Galantier - New YorkTimes (5-10-1964)
For it is impossible to read his recollections of life in Paris in the nine-twenties without regarding this posthumous book as extraordinarily mean. His portrait of Gertrude Stein, whose hospitality he frequently enjoyed, is cruel and humiliating, and his portrait of Scott Fizgerald, a friend, is the same.
Brooks Atkinson - New York Times (7-7-1964)
A Moveable Feast retained a certain irresistible charm. It was a privilege to be able to read about that time in Paris in the words of one of the most important literary expatriates, and it remains so to this day. Reading A Moveable Feast for the fourth (and probably not the last) time, I was struck by how much of it is still agreeable to me. It is actually possible to like Hemingway as he plays with his little son and his cat, fondly nicknamed Bumby and F. Puss, as he talks and travels with Hadley...
Jonathan Yardley - Washington Post
Hemingway beautifully captures the fragile magic of a special time and place, and he manages to be nostalgic without hitting any false notes of sentimentality. "This is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy," he concludes. Originally published in 1964, three years after his suicide, A Moveable Feast was the first of his posthumous books and remains the best
David Laskin, author
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