Ernest Hemingway stood out in a significant manner back in the fifties. He had a beard. And he went about flaunting his beard in an "I don't give a damn" manner. We should remember that the fifties were a time of great conformity. Those who flouted society by wearing a beard could be severly punished. Today such a rigid display of personal conformity may seem odd. Few people would care about such facial hair. But that's the way it was. This then is a novel about the ridiculous.
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