The Star was the arrangement that made Paris possible: hired as a stringer, then roving correspondent, Hemingway landed in France in December 1921 with a mandate to write whatever interested him at space rates — and the paper's files became the seedbed of everything. The famous pieces are here whole: 'American Bohemians in Paris' skewering the Rotonde's poseurs (the scum of Greenwich Village, skimmed and shipped); 'Living on $1,000 a Year in Paris'; the tuna of Vigo; the Swiss luge pieces — alongside the serious apprenticeship: Genoa's diplomacy, Constantinople's misery, the Greek refugees on the Karagatch road that became In Our Time's most indelible vignette.
Editor William White printed everything, weak with strong, which is the volume's scholarly point: you watch the style assemble itself — the cable-born economy, the eye for the exact detail, the flat sentence learning its power — and you watch the material bank itself for later withdrawal. The Star connection ended in 1924 when the paper wanted him at a desk in Toronto and literature wanted him in Paris; literature won, and these pages are the severance file. For us it is the primary source: the expatriate Paris of the memoirs, reported the week it happened.