Few writers have left as indelible a mark on literature as Ernest Hemingway (1899–1961). With his stripped-down prose and unflinching gaze at life’s rawest moments, the Nobel and Pulitzer Prize-winning author didn’t just write stories; he forged a new literary aesthetic that still influences writers today. From the battlefields of A Farewell to Arms to the Cuban waters of The Old Man and the Sea, Hemingway’s work distilled human experience to its essence, proving that profound truth often lies in what’s left unsaid. His famous "iceberg theory" of writing, where the depth and weight of the story exist unseen beneath a surface of spare, declarative sentences, became a revolutionary mandate: to achieve clarity and emotional power through rigorous omission and a devotion to observable fact.
Carrying forward this tradition of literary precision in a different realm is Gay Talese, a master of narrative nonfiction whose work has redefined modern journalism. The bestselling author of eleven books, Talese began his career at The New York Times before becoming one of the pioneers of New Journalism at Esquire. His iconic pieces for The New Yorker and Harper’s Magazine, marked by their novelistic depth and meticulous detail, have set the gold standard for immersive storytelling. Like Hemingway, Talese understands that great writing isn’t about embellishment, but about seeing clearly and reporting faithfully the truths that others might miss. For both writers, the integrity of the observed detail is paramount, whether drawn from the Spanish Civil War or the inner workings of a mid-century newsroom.
Yet while Hemingway sought to capture the elemental struggles of individuals against nature, war, and mortality, Talese turned that same intense focus onto the fabric of American society itself—its celebrities, its institutions, and its ordinary citizens. In works like Frank Sinatra Has a Cold and The Kingdom and the Power, Talese employs a Hemingway-esque patience and accumulation of telling detail to build monumental portraits of character and culture. His process, involving immense preparation and a scenemaker’s eye, mirrors Hemingway’s own insistence on knowing his subject down to the bone. The result is journalism that achieves the lasting resonance of literature, where the author’s presence is felt not through overt commentary, but through the masterful, almost invisible curation of reality.
This conversation, then, explores the shared discipline that bridges the fiction of Hemingway and the fact-based narratives of Talese. It is a discussion about the art of listening, the power of restraint, and the patient hunt for the single, perfect detail that can illuminate an entire character or scene. We delve into how the iceberg theory applies to profiling the living, and how the line between reporter and creator blurs in the pursuit of a deeper truth. In an age of cacophony and haste, the legacies of both writers stand as a testament to the enduring power of watching closely, writing precisely, and allowing the weight of the observed world to speak for itself.
Charles Carlini: Ernest Hemingway did away with the florid prose of the 19th century and pioneered a new style of writing—simple, clear, direct, and unadorned. Which contemporary writers of note have been influenced the most by Hemingway?
Gay Talese: (Norman) Mailer was an obvious example, as are other novelists, for example, Irwin Shaw, author of "Young Lions," "The Troubled Air," "Girls in their Summer Dresses," "The 80-Yard Run," etc.
Hemingway introduced a new style of writing, one that I don't think preceded him in earlier writers. He seemed to carve, chisel each word, each paragraph. It suggested simplicity, when in fact it was anything but simple to do. I read somewhere that Hemingway wrote and re-wrote each sentence numerous times in an effort to get it in a form acceptable to him. He was a great craftsman, but he was cutting through the territory as a pioneer. There were no maps to guide him, though he did acknowledge the influence of great people before him. "Mr. Tolstoy" was how he referred to one of them, with deference and respect for the Russian master.
Still, nobody could do it like Hemingway.
CC: When you started as a writer yourself, was Hemingway an inspiration to you? If so, how? If not, what was it about his writing that did not impact an aspiring writer?
GT: He was a writer that I, as well as the entire generation of post-war writers, respected greatly, but I always thought that it would have been ridiculous to write like him because it would not come across as anything but imitation, fake, a poor "copy" of the real thing.
CC: "A writer's style," Hemingway once said, "should be direct and personal, his imagery rich and earthy, and his words simple and vigorous." Does this kind of style resonate with you personally?
GT: Hemingway's style never resonated with me personally. My style was (and remains) the opposite of Hemingway's. I write long sentences, try to under-write, never over-state. Some of my contemporaries (Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson) over-state, for effect, but they have unique styles. Neither is easy to imitate, but that has not stopped lots of young writers from looking foolish trying to write like Wolfe and Thompson.
CC: By the same token, what is your opinion about Hemingway's Iceberg Theory ("If a writer knows enough about what he is writing about, he may omit things he knows. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one-ninth of it being above water.") Does that approach translate into compelling and gripping writing?
GT: Yes, I subscribe to the Hemingway iceberg theory. It does translate into compelling writing.
CC: Hemingway had four rules for writing: use short sentences, use short paragraphs, use vigorous English, and be positive, not negative. What do you think of this kind of writing style?
GT: The four rules apply, most particularly to Hemingway, who proposed those rules. They certainly worked well for him. But me? Other people? I don't think so. I don't think any rules apply, really. Great writers, good writers, worthy writers make their own rules and effectively communicate with readers. Some of the noteworthy stylists are (Truman) Capote, (J. D.) Salinger, Philip Roth, and William Styron, to name a few. None of them was out of Hemingway's school of rule-making.
CC: Hemingway drew heavily on his experiences in much of his writing. Is it important for a writer to rely on his or her personal experiences? Does a reader relate more to this kind of reality-based approach than to pure fiction?
GT: Yes, experience is essential. So many books of the younger writers (1960s through the 21st century) are, as Tom Wolfe pointed out in a criticism of modern fiction, the work of people who had no experience, and who wrote essentially about nothing important. Wolfe said these writers stayed on campuses for too long, and never got outside of their interior world or their privileged private circles. Hemingway was "out there," always.
CC: How much of your own work is based on personal experience?
GT: Almost all of it.
CC: The Old Man and the Sea, which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1952, is the ultimate example of Hemingway's sparse and subtle writing. The Sun Also Rises (1926) and A Farewell to Arms (1929) were included on a 1998 list of the top one hundred novels of the twentieth century. Do you have your own favorite Hemingway work?
GT: I certainly salute these three works, along with dozens of his short stories and his early journalism. He wrote non-fiction very, very well.
CC: Another of Hemingway's famous quotes is "It's none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way." So here's a question: are writers born or made?
GT: Writers are made by themselves, through writing and re-writing.
CC: How does a young aspiring writer "discover" his or her own style and voice?
GT: By writing and re-writing, and sooner or later—if you keep at it—your own style will emerge. Young impressionable writers tend to be swayed by their elders, especially famous writers, but this will not take any aspiring writer far. One must lay claim to one's own style, and there's no shortcut. It comes after much work, much patience, and persistence.
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