I don't care for Ernest Hemingway. I always figured he wrote for men, and that his reputation came from the male reviewers of the day.
Then yesterday, my critique partner Nan D. Arnold gave me a different perspective. During a time of popular authors like Thomas Hardy, Henry James, John Steinbeck, Somerset Maugham, and William Faulkner, Hemingway must have been a breath of fresh air.
No long convoluted sentences, no pages of description, no in-depth character studies. Just simple blunt prose with characters speaking for themselves.
Doesn't make me like his writing any better though.