Set in ‘darkest Africa’ on safari, Hemingway delights us with his descriptions of the raw emotions of an unhappy couple, their hired professional hunter, and even the lion that catalyzes the story. Francis Macomber, rich and cuckolded, can’t leave his beautiful wife because of some fear that Hemingway leaves us to figure out. Margaret (Margot) takes advantage of her husband’s inordinate fear by openly cheating on him and then treating him like a little boy when he complains. Robert Wilson is the professional hunter who sees the Macombers as his meal ticket and servicing Mrs. Macomber as part of his job.
“… weakening with the wound through his lungs that brought a thin foamy red to his mouth each time he breathed. His flanks were wet and hot and flies were on the little openings the solid bullets had made in his tawny hide, and his big yellow eyes, narrowed with hate, looked straight ahead, only blinking when the pain came as he breathed, and his claws dug in the soft baked earth. All of him, pain, sickness, hatred and all of his remaining strength, was tightening into an absolute concentration for a rush. He could hear the men talking and he waited, gathering all of himself into this preparation for a charge as soon as the men would come into the grass. As he heard their voices his tail stiffened to twitch up and down, and, as they came into the edge of the grass, he made a coughing grunt and charged.”
Francis Macomber turned and ran, causing Wilson to feel more respect for the lion than for Macomber. Margaret began to loathe her husband even more and immediately targets Wilson as her next paramour.
The following day during an encounter with a charging buffalo Francis finds his courage. He is a changed man. Hemingway now moves to the bloody surprise ending, revealing clues about Margaret’s state of mind, but leaving ambiguity so as to cause doubt about the nature of the ‘accident’.
The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber is a fun and thrilling read that reminds me of what a great talent Ernest Hemingway possessed.
