53 Brentwood Blog

Friday, May 06, 2016

Don DeLillo

Apropos of almost nothing, he recalls Ernest Hemingway.
He’s been thinking a lot about Hemingway; he doesn’t entirely know why. He says, “Here’s a story I don’t think I’ve told before. Back in the early 1960s I was standing on 48th Street between Fifth and Madison. And there was Hemingway walking across the street. This was roughly a year before he killed himself. He was going towards Fifth Avenue and I knew that Scribner, his publisher, was right around the corner and that this was where he was going. And it was a wonderful thing to see him walk by. But what’s astonishing now is to think of Hemingway and Fitzgerald and to find myself with those guys in one of those special editions that Scribner did recently – one for each of us. And how did that happen? It’s astonishing to me.” He smiles. “Because I’m not Hemingway. I’m just a guy whose name can’t be spelled properly.”

Don DeLillo



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