So far so-so. Being a fictional memoir, there is not much you can change about the actual occurrences. After A Moveable Feast, I have a background of Hemingway’s life in Paris during the 1920s. Jazz age offered anything but appreciation for the marriage institution. All the convivial drinking, the endless parties, and Hemingway’s frequent trips to cover stories or the Toronto Star—didn’t quite agree with Hadley. The Paris Wife is not a biography but an imagined recounting in which “Hadley Richardson, Ernest Hemingway, and other people who actually lived appear in this book as fictional characters.” I’m about a third of the way, the book is filled with stilted prose and the daily drivel of everyday life. Maybe it’s intentionally dull, knowing the poignant end of Hemingway’s first marriage. It chronicles what they ate, drank and wore instead of examining the complexity of their marriage. I hope it will get to that later.