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Books

The old man and his muse: Hemingway’s toe-curling infatuation with Adriana Ivancich

1 September 2018

9:00 AM

1 September 2018

9:00 AM

One rainy evening in December 1948, a blue Buick emerged from the darkness of the Venetian lagoon near the village of Latisana and picked up an Italian girl — 18, jet black wet hair, slender legs — who had been waiting for hours at the crossroads. In the car, on his way to a duck shoot, was Ernest Hemingway — round puffy face, protruding stomach and, at 49, without having published a novel in a decade, somewhat past his sell-by.

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